FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In a kingdom so prosperous (or so they say) as Lionopolis, sometimes, the threat of attack doesn't come from an invading force of stinky coyotes, or a warrior from a distant land who had been dishonored.

It didn't always come from a particular author who had been continually tarnished at the financial behest of his customers, either, but that's another story...

Sometimes, in a kingdom that reached nearly to the farthest edges of the continent of Furope, the greatest threat to High King Nbowa's throne came not from an angry or vengeful source, but just that of someone thinking that it might be a fun prank to ruin the week for literally everyone.

"Fish! Get your fish, 'ere! Fresh fish, caught today, yanked right out of the Two Tails River, some of 'em might still be kicking!"

In a kingdom unaware, spring was just starting to thaw the cruel winter away from the earth, and the capitol of Lionopolis was alive and kicking. Citizens were finally coming out of their houses, huts and slums to head to the bazaar for shopping and entertainment. The Castle Lion was finally going to open its doors again after a long, tired season full of hibernation for High King Nbowa and the laz-...I mean Great Knights of Furope.

Truly, it was in the spring that the kingdom was to shine the greatest, even if the thawing and warmth brought back the less than fresh stink of Coyote Mountain. Thanks to some legislation that Lykanos the Wolvenmurr was able to pass, Coyote Mountain was moved further away from the outskirts of the kingdom the previous fall, but that didn't mean that living in the slums was any walk in the park. Those poor fools who had been living there for their entire lives didn't realize how much better it could get, however, so just to be free of the stink (mostly, anyway,) they were thrilled with the new accommodations, and were out in force, pumping money back into the wavering economy of Lionopolis.

Like most days in the spring in Furope, in those days of peace, everything was the way that it should have been, with minor exception to a couple of characters that had been continually given the shaft, but I promised myself that I wouldn't dwell on the fact that I'm writing this story in a hut made of straw, with no door on the bathroom and an obnoxious neighbor who wakes me up at six in the morning every day to tell me that the rash on his privates is st-

"Dirtscribe! Why are you talking to yourself again? I thought we agreed that as part of your banishment, you weren't allowed any forms of entertainment!"

Joshiah, now known in the land as the banished Dirtscribe, sighed and rested his forehead on the table with his scroll. "Good morning, King Smelly Shorts. You have my deepest apologies. To what do I owe this most prestigious honor?"

"We also agreed that sarcasm wasn't allowed, either..."

"Sarcasm? Why, I would never, King Smelly Shorts! Your shorts really do smell!"

Brandishing Excalifur with a white-knuckle grip, High King Nbowa slashed the blade down upon the table and nearly cut the scroll in half, which would have put a seriously quick end to this story, but, thankfully, he missed, and I was able to finish writing it in private, away from his infernal distractions.

What? You all know that this is just my avatar in a fantasy land. We can all agree that you all knew who I was the entire time, and that I've just been telling all of these stories from an omnipresent perspective.

"I've no time for your silly insolence and insults, Dirtscribe! I come here bearing an offering of greater kindness than you deserve!"

Now, the Dirtscribe was actually interested. He'd been in exile in the outskirts of Lionopolis for nearly three quarters of a year already, and after just the first week, he was ready to attempt suicide by jumping off of his roof...but it was only about seven feet high, and the ground around it was made of soft sand, meaning that he was only able to test his parkour abilities, which had faded over the recent years of sitting behind a desk, and before that, going around and helping certain lions become appointed king of an entire continent.

That's right, Nbowa. Never forget that. I freaking made you.

"I'm listening, High King Nbowa, but what offer would I be worthy of from such a benevolent ruler?"

"I can still hear some sarcasm in that voice, but...it's not important. What is important is that you used to be The Arbiter of Large and Powerful Fantasy Weapons, and we may have need of your skills and expertise once again!"

"W-wait. Stop. Can you say that bit again? That title?"

"The Arbiter of Large and Powerful Fantasy Weapons?"

"Mmmmn... Yeah. That's the good stuff. Okay, continue."

High King Nbowa made a disgusted face and shook his head. "Anyway... I was strolling through the bazaar this morning and thought that I might sample some fresh fish for breakfast, when I noticed something unusual about one of the customers that had just taken a bite...and it was no ordinary customer." Reaching into the pocket of his shorts, High King Nbowa opened his paw to Joshiah the Dirtscribe to reveal a mouse, about the right size that a mouse should be.

"So...there are mice in the fish market, and you need me to find a weapon to get rid of them?"

"It's not a mouse, Joshiah The Dirtscribe...at least, it's not supposed to be."

It certainly didn't look like any normal mouse, and it was wearing a tiny, fun-sized suit of armor that looked awfully familiar to the Dirtscribe. Upon further inspection...he started laughing.

Hysterically.

"T-that's Atimist the Strong But Really Small! He's a mouse! Oh my God, this is too good!"

Obviously not seeing the concern in the moment, The Dirtscribe rested his face on the table again and continued laughing until he fell out of his small stool, kicking up dust from the floor and leaving Atimist in a fury, but given that he was even slightly smaller now, it was easy enough for High King Nbowa to hold him tightly in his paw to keep the transformed mouse from running over and nibbling upon the hybrid writer like he was a piece of cheese.

"Actually, it's not good...at all. Atimist The Strong But Really Small is only the first victim that I saw! Everyone that was eating fish caught from the Two Tails River was changing into a different species than they were supposed to be!"

"...And...the problem is...what?"

"The problem is that the kingdom-wide census is coming up, and if everyone keeps on transforming, we'll have no idea who anyone actually is! That throws accountability out the window! Crime will skyrocket, fire and brimstone will fall from the heavens, people will unknowingly commit adultery, and-

"Or," Joshiah The Dirtscribe cut him off, "Everyone will just panic for a little bit until they get used to their new bodies, and everything will be fine after a week."

"But is that a risk you're willing to take, Dirtscribe?"

"Yes. Yes it is. Can I please get back to my exile?"

"No, he's at the castle, and he's not yours to begin with!"

"... MY exile, not the Exile!"

"Oh, of course. Well, you can if you really want to, but I must warn you, Dirtscribe, this travesty will affect all of us, and this is the only chance you're going to get for a reduced sentence! If you can help us find the source of these transformations and fix the problem, we'll shorten your banishment to only two years!"

"Not interested."

"How about one year?"

It was clear that Joshiah, The Dirtscribe, wasn't going to be so easily swayed, and that he valued the little privacy he could get while he was supposed to be working, as a series of veins was starting to pop out of the side of his head. "Here's the deal, King Smelly. If you want my help with this, after you quite literally threw me under the proverbial bus without any evidence that I was working against you, I'm going to need a full pardon, a nice house in uptown, and at least a year long supply of scotch...which I will be consuming in a month, so that's more like twelve years worth for the average person."

High King Nbowa tilted his head a little bit as his jaw hung agape. "...Y-you're serious, aren't you?"

"And busy, so...y'know. Take it or leave it. I'm a four animal hybrid...I'm not really worried about being transformed," he said, not realizing just how fucked he was for that statement already.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, High King Nbowa stuffed a squeaking Ati-mouse back into his pocket and crossed his arms. He wanted to mull over the decision in his lion-sized brain, but he already knew that his paws were tied. He was going to need all the help he could get, especially if the rest of the Great Knights of Furope were transformed...not to mention that he was already in danger of transforming, himself.

"...Damn it. Fine. A full pardon, a nice house in uptown, and a month supply of scotch. I've seen how you drink...if we gave you an actual year long supply, it would bankrupt the whole kingdom!"

Jumping right up from his desk, Joshiah The Dirtscribe threw his arms around High King Nbowa and squeezed him up with such vigor that he started carrying the royal feline back toward the castle. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Things are finally looking up for the most cursed citizen in all of Furope!"

...Sigh.

No, they're not, me. No they're not.

**

A quick run through the bazaar and uptown Lionopolis revealed just how quickly the situation was spiraling out of control. Mice were turning into rabbits, rabbits were turning into foxes, foxes were turning into a myriad of different animals, and because of a lack of mirrors being publicly available, the only way to confirm a new identity was to run around the town in a frenzied panic, hoping that someone would tell you what you'd become. It was already too late for the Great Knights of Furope when Joshiah, Atimist and High King Nbowa arrived at Castle Lion, finding them all completely changed in the Great Hall.

Deep in the Bogs of Acid (see what I did there? You'll see what I did there,) between the split branches of the Two Tails River, a wolf of the darkest, blackest fur and the meanest, angriest eyes was cackling with delight, holding a potion bottle in his paws.

"My first potion worked like a charm!" he declared. "All of those obnoxious yuppies across Lionopolis are trapped in a whirlwind of despair, with no cure to be found!"

Not everyone in the kingdom of Lionopolis was under the spell yet, as he'd only poisoned the food supply first, but this time, he was heading to the banks of the Two Tails River, right at the fork where the two branches, or tails of the river split apart. "Once I add this poison to the water supply, they'll be trapped in an endless loop of daily transformations, until no one knows who, or even what they are anymore! That'll show High King Smelly Cat and his stupid alchemists for rejecting my theories on Transformation Science! I mean...I only had that one project go wrong and escape my laboratory, and I get kicked out of the League of Alchemists! What kinda bullshit is that?!"

...Well, you did kinda create Diz. That warrants some serious punishment.

"And you keep on using the fourth wall as a convenient way to mock your commissioners!"

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"My next potion is going to be one that breaks all of your fingers. It's called a hammer."

Oooh, I'm so scared. Maybe just work on not spilling that first potion in the dirt or something, you gloid.

Unfortunately, to mock the ever present voice in the sky, the mysterious wolf, a banished wizard, never spilled his potion as he made his way to the riverbank. He uncorked the top, and an ominous, purple mist started to ooze and waft from the opening of the bottle, one that turned all of the grass around the riverbank into thorn bushes.

"With this potion...I seal the fate of the big, stinky cat, his stupid alchemists, and all of Furope, forever!"

Thick, viscous fluid of ultraviolet spilled into the water and blended right in, splitting down each of the tails of the river and going straight into the irrigation system of Lionopolis.

Now, it was only a matter of time before the transformation cycle was unbreakable, and only a hybrid spy, keeping a close watch over the mysterious wizard, could save the day.

And damn, she's fine.

**

"So now that we know what we must do...are you ready to accept your next mission, Great Knights of Furope?"

"...No. You just walked in here and said that. We have no idea what's going on, or why you're even allowed in Castle Lion, Dirtscribe!"

Joshiah the Dirtscribe was standing in the Great Hall, still unchanged, as he looked upon a cast of Great Knights that weren't reminiscent of the ones he once quested with. Atimist the Strong But Very Small was even smaller now, as a mouse, and thanks to his exposure to the mouse, High King Nbowa was now Tiny King Mouse. Just to add to the confusion, Lykanos the Wolvenmurr was starting to grow a mane, and Arcturus the Bolton felt his tail starting to shrink back into his body, as more spots appeared upon his normally blank underbelly.

"You've all been transforming all morning. I didn't think I needed to explain that someone has obviously poisoned the food supply...I...I kinda figured that would explain itself."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here," Huscoon the Stats Guy pointed out. "And the numbers aren't exactly in your favor for High King Nbowa reaching out to you for help. There was only about a 27% chance of that happening today."

"You seriously had time to figure that out already?"

"...I was bored."

Joshiah the Dirtscribe sighed and shook his head. "Never mind, that isn't important. What is important is that King Smelly Shorts down there actually did come to me for help, and offered me a pardon if I assisted you guys in finding out who was behind all of this, so...here I am. Let's all do each other a favor and not do any more transforming along the way, because I need you guys to keep your original bodies so I know how to work you into my attack strategies."

As if the plot called for Joshiah the Dirtscribe to be inconvenienced, Chutora the Momma's Boy suddenly grew up and out of his role, keeping his black fur and unusual orange stripes, but suddenly growing several feet taller. His tail shrunk down into a tiny, wiggling nub, and his sharp ears rounded off into small half-circles as he towered over everyone else in the room.

"...Or, y'know, Chutora can transform into a grizzly bear. That's actually kinda cool."

"Sorry, guys," Chutora said, poking his wide, massive paws together. "I kinda got hungry and had some of the fish.

Joshiah crossed his arms. "Rule number one: no one eats or drinks anything until we know what is and isn't safe to consume. Rule number two: I'm calling the shots this time, because I've learned after three of these adventures that you guys can be kinda hapless without proper leadership, and your leader is currently a cheese monger. Rule number three: we're likely dealing with an extremely powerful wizard here, so unless you know for sure that you can handle yourself in combat, do not engage him when we find him!"

"But...how do we find him?"

"The first food that we noticed any sort of poison in was the fish, so it's likely that this guy is somewhere close by the river, and if he only poisoned them last night or this morning, he hasn't gone far. We'll start by looking at the Two Tails River, and spread out our search from there! Sound like a good plan to you guys?"

For the first time in months, all of the Great Knights of Furope were gathered with a sacred charge. They had a kingdom to save, and under the guidance of the former Arbiter of Large and Powerful Fantasy Weapons, there was almost no way that they would fail in their mission.

" WAIT! Don't go out there!"

An animal burst through the front doors of the Great Hall, wearing an outfit that was vaguely familiar to everyone, but they'd only ever seen it on a zebra. This time, it was worn by a wolf, coated in a thick layer of white fur...with thick, black stripes.

"Wait a minute...Lan or Gren?"

"Y-yes, it's me..." Lan or Gren confirmed, although his striping pattern was the only thing that would give a clue to his identity. "It's become total chaos and anarchy out there...no one can handle how rapidly they're transforming, and it's causing all of the citizens of Furope to lose their minds! It's too dangerous to make the journey to the Two Tails River!"

The sacred robes that Lan or Gren were always wearing had been torn asunder by the chaos he ran through, and his fur was ruffled with marks from claws and paws trying to grab at him. His story was completely sound, and he was completely out of breath.

"Then we'll just take the back door," Joshiah the Dirtscribe pointed out.

"O...oh. That would kinda fix all of our problems, wouldn't it? What a convenient plot device!"

"It's not a plot device, it's a part of the castle that leads you out of town without having to deal with anyone!"

"Right. A plot device."

"The door was there before it was needed for this situation! That doesn't...siiiigh. You know what? We're not having this argument, Lan or Gren. We have to bring you up to speed on the plan."

Of course, the writer didn't feel like typing out the same thing twice in a row, so...poof and skidoosh, the Great Knights went out the back door, Lan or Gren magically knew the whole plan, and the heroes that would ultimately save Furope (or transform trying) were on their way to the Two Tails River!

"You're really getting lazy in your old age, Joshiah."

"Thanks, Lan or Gren."

**

Wandering aimlessly through the Forest of Lost Souls, an area further north along the Two Tails River, Diz the Indecisive was doing what he did best: wandering aimlessly and changing into whatever he saw.

The product of a failed experiment, using transformation chemicals on a border collie, Diz the Indecisive was branded a monster by the kingdom and most of the citizens that lived within it. He'd been defeated by the Great Knights of Furope before, but this time, as he pondered what to transform into next, it wasn't a knight that was going to be his adversary.

It was the quick, deft paws of a drop dead sexy spy.

"Don't move, Diz. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

"Pfft...you couldn't hurt me, whoever you a-

The small, but razor sharp blade of a hooked knife was pressed to the neck of the border collie, and he stopped, frozen in his tracks. Standing behind him and placing a paw on the back of his neck was a hybrid of a fennec fox and a desert cat, a kixen, the only one in the known continent. Clad in thin, tight leathers that allowed for excellent movement and wearing a dark cloak that aided in stealth, this hybrid was a pioneer in the field of spies, and her success was a double-edged sword; she was so good at her craft that she existed only as a legend.

She was Roosles, the Desert Spy.

"Yes, I can hurt you...very badly, at that, unless you're willing to be a good doggy and assist me with something."

Diz the Indecisive tried to whirl his head around to look, but the knife was pressed tighter to his neck, and he decided that he did like living, after all. "O-okay, okay! I'll cooperate! Jeez...why is everyone in this kingdom so mean to me all the time?"

"Because you're an abomination and a sin against God?"

...I mean...she kinda has a point...

"That was a rhetorical question."

"I figured, but you deserved an answer for your cooperation. Now...keep the gravy train rolling, and send a message for me."

"A message?"

Roosles the Desert Spy pulled her knife away and spun Diz the Indecisive around. In the moment, all he could see was a shadowed visage with two long, pointed ears poking up against the inside of a dark, hooded cloak. "You will go to the Great Knights of Furope and warn them that I have the secret to stopping the evil wizard, but that I cannot leave him unattended for long. Tell them to make way for the Bogs of Acid...I'll be waiting just outside of them."

"And just who might you be, anyway?"

"A whisper in the sands of the desert...you can call me 'Ears.'"

The cloak was whipped around, blocking Diz and his vision for a moment, and when he opened his eyes after the recoil, Roosles the Desert Spy was gone.

Damn. Even I didn't think I could make a legitimately cool character in Furope, but I did. Sometimes I even amaze myself! And she's hot, too. A kixen spy? Seriously? I've outdone myself.

"W-who's there? Are you the voice in my head that's always telling me to transform into things?"

No, Diz, that's your own subconscious.

"Then who are you?"

I'm Santa Claus. Go do your job or I won't bring you any transformation stories for Christmas.

"Awww...okay, but I want a refund!"

You didn't even pay for this story!

"...So?"

**

"Dirtscribe, how much further until we reach the banks of the Two Tails River?"

"We're less than a mile away. I can already smell the fresh, cool mists coming up from it!"

Huscoon the Stats Guy shook his head. "It's a river, not a freaking ocean! There's no way you can actually smell that. You're probably smelling more of the poison!"

"It would be our luck that the villain would actually be smart enough to do something dangerous like that, for once...this guy is good."

Doxial the Nibbler was now Doxial the Devourer, thanks to his having consumed some bugs along the way, directly ignoring the first rule that had been issued. Already, the wildlife around the river was starting to change and transform, and it seemed that by consuming anything that was simply within proximity of the potion, you risked being transformed.

Doxial was no longer a cute, tiny little fennec with harmless fangs.

He was now a full grown saber-toothed tiger, and every couple of seconds, his eyes darted over to High King Mouse, filled with the temptation to consume his own royal leader.

"My bigger concern is that we won't be able to reverse the spells," Bluemoon the Overbearing pointed out. "It's all well and good if we find the person responsible, but are we really going to live with a mouse for a king? And poor Arcturus is now Arcturus the Falsetto!"

"I knoooooow!" Arcturus the Falsetto cried out, in a high pitched voice that reached much further than his already impressive musical range...but, in his new form, that of a pure lynx, he only seemed able to hit the high notes, and his mannerisms were becoming much more feminine. "I can't hit those low, rich toooooones like I used to!"

Joshiah the Dirtscribe turned back and looked at the Great Knights of Furope with disdain. Lykanos was now Lionkanos, and it seemed that only he, Huscoon the Stats Guy, and Bluemoon the Overbearing hadn't been changed. The odds were already highly stacked against them, and the closer they got to the river, the more and more that Joshiah the Dirtscribe began to wonder if being banished for eternity would really be such a bad thing...

...I mean, I wouldn't have to write anymore Furope stories, the rent is super low, and the Great Knights tend to leave me alone...wouldn't have to do any work...

...E-excuse me. I'm gonna go have an existential crisis.

"Well, whatever we're going to do, we need to do it fast, because there's only so much daylight left, and I'm starving," Huscoon the Stats Guy pointed out. "I haven't eaten anything all day, and it would seem that my only options are tainted fish, tainted bugs, tainted grass and now, likely tainted water!"

Joshiah the Dirtscribe continued staring into space, not really hearing the conversation as the Great Knights carried onward.

"I've got some leftover cake from the inauguration," Bluemoon the Overbearing offered, pulling a small slice out from one of the pockets in her battle dress.

"...That cake is seriously almost two years old. Is it even still good?"

Bluemoon the Overbearing sighed and tossed the cake into the tall grasses of the open field. "No...probably for the best that we get rid of it. It's no better to get food poisoning than it is to be transformed! We just have to learn to adapt to our new forms until we can find a cure!"

That idea was finally enough to snap Joshiah the Dirtscribe out of his trance...that, and accepting that this was going to be his fate, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. "We need to stick to the rules here. You two are the only ones still in your own bodies, and I need to keep you that way until we find the jerk-off that's behind all of this!"

A prime suspect jumped out of a small thicket of bushes and tried to startle the party, but...no one was really afraid of Diz the Indecisive, after all. In fact, they all smiled and waved to him as he did his best to bare his fangs and look menacing.

"There's a blast from the past!" Joshiah the Dirtscribe declared. "Good to see that you're still alive and kicking, Diz! What brings you around these parts?"

"You're...not afraid of me?"

The entire group shook their heads.

"...Awww...well, I've got a message for you guys, anyway, from someone called 'Ears.' They say that they know how to defeat the evil wizard that poisoned everything, and you guys need to meet up with her. Or something. I wasn't really paying that much attention."

"Someone was trying to give you the secret to fixing the problem that could end an entire kingdom, and you weren't really paying attention?!" Joshiah the Dirtscribe demanded, grabbing the otherwise nude Diz the Indecisive by the scarf and yanking him forward.

"They didn't tell me! They just told me that you had to meet up with them by the Bogs of Acid!"

The Great Knights of Furope weren't aware of the location of such, but as two members of the mystic community, Joshiah the Dirtscribe and Lan or Gren knew it well. "Then we'll make haste for them, so I can finally go home and enjoy my evening scotch!"

"Right...like you're going to have just one scotch this evening."

"Diz. We're friends, right?"

"Right."

"And you know you deserve what I'm about to do, right?"

"Rig-...wait, what?"

WHACK! Joshiah the Dirtscribe smacked Diz the Indecisive in the face with a scroll, right over his eye, which immediately started to swell up. Diz was filled with a sense of deja vu, as if he'd been in such a moment before, but this time, no one tended to him...instead, they all kept marching along as the constantly transforming border collie tried to keep up, deciding that he enjoyed the company of others around him.

"It's just another mile and a half to the Bogs of Acid, everyone," Lan or Gren explained. "When we get there, take good care to watch your step...one false move, and you could lose a leg...or worse, your life! ...Uhm...Doxial, could you please spit out the king?"

A tiny, squeaky voice came up from the ground. "I'm down here!" High King Mouse confirmed.

"Oh. Then could you please spit out Atimist the Strong But Very Small?"

Doxial grinned wide, happily showing off his long, tusk-like fangs to the rest of the party, with a small, thin tail wiggling out between them. His jaws finally opened and Atimist the Strong But Very Small jumped out and rolled around in the grass, trying to get all of the saliva out of his fur and armor. "Oh...my...God...brush your damned teeth after you've been eating bugs, Doxial!"

The chaos that enveloped the capitol of Lionopolis was starting to spread already, and it seemed that even the Great Knights of Furope weren't immune to the side effects of being transformed...even though they'd all been through it multiple times.

Seriously. I wrote about a lot of them. These guys do this kind of stuff like...every day, anymore. I don't know why this is such a big deal.

"Dirtscribe, are you talking to yourself again?"

"N-no! No...not at all, Lan or Gren. Shall we carry on with the quest?"

The former zebra sighed. "Yes...we probably should."

Joshiah the Dirtscribe matched his sigh. Both animals were clearly banking on their retirement from the mystical community (and this kind of madness) for some time, but it seemed that their requests had been denied...and that meant at least ten more years a piece of marching buffoons around the most treacherous parts of Furope without any hope of receiving the glory of the would-be heroes.

"When I print all this stuff out, Lan or Gren, remind me to put in a whole chapter just about us and how awesome we are."

"Consider it done."

**

Fumes of bright, toxic yellow belched and bellowed up into the air, polluting the atmosphere and creating a miasma of discomfort around the Bogs of Acid. Of all of the mystical locations in Furope, this was the one most detested, and if the other alchemists knew of a way, they likely would have sealed it off a long time ago.

Instead, it turned out to be the perfect place to exile a former alchemist turned wizard, and the name it was given was no coincidence.

"The Great Knights make haste for my location, no doubt, but they'll never know my secret...even if they can defeat me, I'll never undo the potions that I've created! I will force all of Lionopolis to live with the same humiliation that I have, and when I'm done here, I'll spread this disease to all of Furope, until I'm the only one who hasn't transformed!"

So...you're gonna poison all of the food and water in the known world.

"Yes. That's the plan."

But you're not gonna transform, somehow?

"..."

I'm waiting.

"That's a minor oversight in my plan. I'll figure out a way around it! Thank you for pointing that out, strangely omnipotent voice! You've only assured that my plan will succeed!"

Yeah, call me skeptical, but I don't think that your plan has a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding.

"I'll just call you a dick instead. It's easier, and I think it gets my point across much more effectively."

While the evil wizard was raving at the sky like a madman, no doubt a side effect of making too many lobster jokes, he was completely unaware that Roosles the Desert Spy, the legendary 'Ears,' was just starting to make her way out to the edges of the Bogs of Acid, having kept a close watch over him from the very beginning of his banishment. It was a tough, terrible job, and no doubt, she saw things that no mortal should ever have to witness, but in her patience and diligence, she saw the key to his defeat, and perhaps, even a way to reverse all of the evil that his potion had done.

As she sat upon a tree branch, high up in the old, decaying trees that dotted the Bogs of Acid, she could see a large group of adventurers drawing nearer, though they weren't exactly what she was expecting.

"Hey, Diz. What color is the sky?"

The border collie suddenly shifted from a canine to a feline, a short, stubby calico. "It's blue."

"Where do babies come from?"

The calico sprouted long, thick legs and his paws turned to hooves as he was suddenly transformed into a buck. "From the stork..."

Before antlers could even properly sprout from his head, Huscoon the Stats Guy chimed in. "Why do you wear a red bandanna?"

" KNOCK IT OFF!" Diz shouted, as his body was already turning once again. His short, fluffy deer tail sprouted out as long as the frame of his body and wrapped itself with a fur coat of alternating rings, and he shrunk down rapidly in size until he was even shorter than Joshiah the Dirtscribe. This time, he was a red panda, but he didn't expect it to last very long, now that they knew his secret.

Every time you asked Diz the Indecisive a question, his body automatically transformed into something else.

"These...these are the Great Knights of Furope?" asked a voice from high up in the trees, but it wasn't the author, mocking the characters of the story this time.

A cloaked figure dropped down from the trees and stood in front of the Great Knights, refusing to lower the hood of her cloak. "Yes, we are the Great Knights of Furope. We've come here under the advice of Diz the Indecisive...might you be the fabled 'Ears?'" Lionkanos asked, crossing his arms tight over his chest and trying to look as regal as possible, knowing that the Great Knights didn't exactly look like themselves at the moment, much less like actual knights.

"It would seem that the wizard has already poisoned you. I just hope it's not too late to stop him," Roosles worried aloud. "I am indeed Ears, the greatest spy in all of Furope, and I have been tasked with keeping an eye on the evil wizard, Acid, who lives here in the Bogs of Acid."

Joshiah the Dirtscribe snickered. "I see what you did there."

"That wasn't a joke," Roosles the Desert Spy pointed out. "This place was called that long before he was ever banished here. It's just a coincidence, really, and it's not important to the overall plan. Personally, I'd like to just get this over with so I can be tasked with something a little less boring and a lot less disgusting."

"Girl, you and I have so much in common, it isn't even funny," Joshiah the Dirtscribe replied.

"If you saw what this guy did with lobsters, something tells me you'd consider your job a walk in the park."

" Try me."

Roosles slowly lowered the hood of her cloak, revealing that long, thick tresses of auburn had been tugged back into a ponytail. Her ears were tall, though not quite as much as the average fennec, and her eyes sparkled with the luster of a thousand jades glistening in the sun, a brilliance that could only be equaled by the mind behind them.

Needless to say, Joshiah the Dirtscribe was instantly smitten, and had no concern for the safety of the Great Knights or the completion of his quest any longer.

"Thanks, but I'd rather not relive that nightmare," Roosles the Desert Spy replied. "Let's just get this ordeal over with so we can get things back to normal before they get any worse."

"Everyone is already being transformed against their will," Bluemoon the Overbearing pointed out. "How much worse can things possibly get?"

"Yeah," Diz the Indecisive cut in, "That must be a real tragedy...people being transformed against their will. Not a funny joke or anything that's happened to anyone we know."

"Is something wrong, Diz?" Roosles asked, tilting her head just slightly, and inadvertently turning Diz into a puma.

"No. Everything is fine. Can I go now?"

"I'm afraid that we might need you for my plan of attack," Roosles the Desert Spy declined his request. "Because you're already plagued with the curse of transformation, beyond the effects of the poisoned water and food, you shouldn't be affected by them if you were to consume them, and we could have serious use for that. I'm personally starving..."

"Me too," Huscoon the Stats Guy chimed in.

"Me three," Bluemoon the Overbearing mentioned, as she held her paws around her gurgling tummy.

"Me four," Joshiah the Dirtscribe added last, "And I just happen to have to some scotch that I know is untainted, and a couple small pieces of dried meat, if you'd like to join me, Ears."

Roosles the Desert Spy wrinkled up her muzzle and shook her head. "Scotch tastes like burning," she suggested, "Though I could go for a piece of dried meat. I do love jerky."

"Oh, I'll give you a piece of meat."

"What was that?"

"I said I will happily share this delicious jerky with you so that we can complete our mission," Joshiah the Dirtscribe corrected himself and approached Roosles. He pulled a small piece of meat from within one of his scrolls and handed it to her, but with a quick examination, Roosles quickly flicked it to the ground and growled angrily. "H-hey! What did you do that for?!"

"The wizard Acid must have already poisoned the water supply! Any mist that comes up from the river will pollute the air, meaning that all of the food and water in the area will be immediately tainted by it! Your dried meat is already starting to change!"

"Guess I'll just have a gulp of scotch, then..."

"Did you not hear a single word I just said?!"

"The alcohol in scotch will just kill off the poison," Joshiah the Dirtscribe said, too foolhardy and head strong to realize that this potion was stronger than any alcohol. He popped the cork from his personal bottle, and as soon as the air hit the liquid, it started to turn color...but it was too late. Joshiah was already taking a swig of the liquid and letting out a breath of satisfaction, all while giving Roosles the Desert Spy a quick wink. "See? Nothing! A big, full gulp, and I don't...feel...a...penis."

Seriously. I'm not this stupid in real life. I hate you all so much sometimes.

"I...I'm sorry, what was that?" Roosles the Desert Spy asked him, grinning from ear to ear. "Were you saying that you are transforming right away, and that I was right?"

Joshiah the Dirtscribe didn't dare to speak again, as he could feel his throat tightening up just slightly around his voice box, and the organs between his legs shriveling up in the worst possible way. There was no pain, of course, other than the hollow emptiness that came along with realizing that you no longer had a pair, quite literally, and that you were all out of sausage, so to speak.

"Nice tits, by the way. What was your name again?"

The Dirtscribe looked down and watched as his usual tunic suddenly became very tight around a budding pair of bosom, inflating with such rapid speed that they almost appeared to be filled with air...but a quick self-check with the paws confirmed they were flesh. White hair that was cut clean to his hair sprouted out like weeds and cascaded over his shoulders and his forehead, blocking his vision until he pushed it out of the way. "My name is Joshiah, the Dirtscribe..."

"No," Roosles the Dirt Spy disagreed, "I think your name is Josianne, the Dirtscribette. Shame that you're a girl, now. You were actually kinda cute as a guy."

"I'm still a guy!" Joshiah the Dirtscribe tried to protest, but it was to no avail. His voice came out in a higher pitched whine, and his frame was still shifting, giving him wider hips and a more feminine frame. The outfit he was wearing quickly became frumpy on his changed body, and arms that were once filled with proud, powerful muscles started to narrow down and shrink. "Honest! This is all entirely temporary!"

"For your sake, I sure hope so," Roosles the Desert Spy replied. "Sure looks to me like the guys are gonna be all over you!"

Fate continued to be a cruel, PMSing bitch to Joshiah the Dirtscribe, who was currently being mocked by the only female in the kingdom that had ever tugged on his heartstrings...or rather, her heartstrings, because he was a boastful idiot who decided to swig scotch in front of her. Y'know, cause I would totally do that if I knew that the air would taint my scotch.

Ugh.

"Either way, I'm sure we'll still need you to help out with the plan of attack, so you should probably stick around, Josianne. In the meantime, shall we go over our strategy to defeat the wizard?"

"Slow, painful death by repeated blows to the crotch. Got it. I like it. Go team. Break."

"I'm sure that you would be very happy with that strategy, but at the moment, it isn't going to remove the poison from the water supply, and I'm sure that he sufficiently armored his testicles ages ago."

Huscoon the Stats Guy tried to ignore his painful hunger and stay focused on the plan. "Then...what can we do to defeat him, if not kick him in the balls? Only myself and Bluemoon the Overbearing can still properly use our abilities as intended!"

Roosles the Desert Spy crossed her arms in deep thought, framing up her perfect breasts in the process and nearly distracting the writer from finishing the story. "We really are in a pinch, but I think we're going to have to use a distraction. We could easily kill him, but we need him alive until we can figure out how to reverse the process of those devious potions!"

"I'm telling you, blunt force trauma to the testicles..."

"Now now, Josianne, that's not very lady like of you," Lan or Gren taunted him, patting him, or her, on the shoulder. "A blow to the testicles should always be considered a last resort!"

"Or a fitting revenge for tainting my scotch and commissioning me to write this."

"Write what?"

"Never mind that. The only thing that matters right now is stopping the wizard Acid and putting an end to his evil schemes!"

"If you guys really wanted to do that, maybe you should have discussed your plans outside of an area where I can overhear most of your conversation."

Clad in a dark, dirty robe that was more rags than threads, and a tall, pointed cap fitting of the cheesiest wizards, Acid the Lobsterborn had been sitting around, listening to the plan of action the entire time and doing his best not to laugh at the way that the Great Knights of Furope had been so easily defeated, without so much as a struggle. "You may as well run while I still allow you to. I've poured a second potion into the water supply, ensuring that all of the transformations will become permanent by tomorrow morning! One drink of the tainted water, and all of Lionopolis will be a confused mess of constantly transforming fools!"

"So...everyone in the kingdom will be Diz for eternity," Josianne the Dirtscribette suggested.

"That's a name I've not heard in many years...and also the name of the failed experiment that caused me to be cast from the League of Alchemists in the first place!" Acid the Lobsterborn declared, revealing his motive to the Great Knights of Furope and eliminating the need for them to play the question game. "Now I live in this smelly, stinky bog, breathing toxic air and walking into trees all day because the smog is so thick!"

Though he was small, High King Mouse poked Huscoon the Stats Guy, making an upward gesture. Huscoon leaned over and scooped his king up in his paws, lofting him toward Acid the Lobsterborn, in the hopes that the wizard might be able to hear the squeaky king. "Listen, foul wizard! You will undo this sorcery post haste, or I'll have my band of knights send you to an early grave!"

"Sure, sure...what, is Huscoon gonna number me to death?" Acid the Lobsterborn mocked the decree, laughing at his own joke. "Is Bluemoon the Overbearing going to give me an early bedtime? I've got nothing to fear! All of your most dangerous warriors have been transformed into bodies that make them helpless against me, and even your two mystical buddies can't be of any assistance in their current forms!"

Huscoon the Stats Guy frowned and looked away for a moment. "I do have feelings, y'know..."

"Oh, shut up! You silly fools run around the forest all day and get all the credit for being such amazing, brave knights, while the alchemists do all of the work to actually make the kingdom better, and when we make one teeny, tiny, little mistake, we get banished from the kingdom forever! How is that fair?"

Doxial the Devourer glanced aside. "Well, I mean...you did create Diz...that's a pretty big mistake."

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely."

"Totally."

"He's a monster!"

"Why haven't we killed this guy, yet?"

The Great Knights of Furope were all in agreement that Acid the Lobsterborn had been sentenced to a fitting punishment, but this only angered the wizard that much further. "Oh, come on! He's not that bad! He just doesn't work exactly right! What was I supposed to do, just toss him off a cliff like all the rest of the failed experiments?"

Dude. This story just got really dark.

"And exactly what were all of the rest of the failed experiments?"

"Lobsters."

Shut the fuck up.

"Yes, strange and omnipotent voice, the other alchemists and I were trying to make the perfect, fresh water lobster, so that we could stock the Two Tails River with a delicacy that could be easily accessed by all of the citizens of Lionopolis, and not just the upper class. It was a noble pursuit, but when the other alchemists failed and gave up, moving on to how to deal with the smell of Coyote Mountain, I stayed behind and worked diligently on the lobster project...but one of my experiments went terribly wrong, and it turned into Diz, the Indecisive. It's true...it's all true!"

Josianne the Dirtscribette rested her face in the palm of a paw. "And since you were rightly punished, you think you have the right to use the same failed potion to turn everyone else in the kingdom into a bunch of Diz clones."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, you're wrong, so if you could please pour the antidote into the river and fix all of this, so we can go about killing you and going home, that'd be just peachy. I've got a pardon to cash in on."

"You? The legendary Dirtscribe even got a pardon for his betrayal of the kingdom?! Then what the hell do I have to do to earn mine?"

High King Mouse spoke up once again in his cute, tiny little mousey voice. "Apologizing for turning everyone into Diz clones would be a great place to start, and offering up the antidote so that we can fix all of the damage you caused would be a good second step."

"Hmmm...I dunno...I'm pretty sure that even if you kill me at this point, I've already won if I just don't have over the cure."

WHAM! Bluemoon the Overbearing whacked the foolish wizard over the head with her legendary battle hammer, crushing his hat and sending his face down into the dirt. "Hey, we tried being nice, but I've got a son to protect, and no son of mine is going to be a big, nasty bear for the rest of his life!" she explained, living up to the namesake of her knighthood and embarrassing Chutora the Momma's Boy in the process.

With his muzzle forming a small divot in the earth, Acid the Lobsterborn groaned in pain and grabbed the back of his head, now too dizzy to cast a spell or fight back. "U...ugh...I think I can feel my brains coming out of my ears..."

"Serves you right for turning everyone into a copy of Diiiiiiiz!" Arcturus the Falsetto sang, unable to keep himself from making all of his statement in a singing voice that was so high, it defied logic, and was perhaps even meant as a joke to stereotype other such big cats...like a certain lynx. "Now fix us...fix us allllll!"

"If you're mad at me for giving you such a beautiful singing voice, then you people are just ungrateful as all hell," Acid the Lobsterborn argued, "But...I can imagine that some of you aren't happy with the changes that I've made."

Josianne the Dirtscribette jiggled her breasts and groaned. "You can say that again. You're pretty much the cock block master."

"And just what makes you say that?" Roosles the Desert Spy and Acid the Lobsterborn asked at the same time, their voices working in such a unison that they glanced at each other immediately after.

"...N-nothing, just...y'know...he literally took mine away. That's like, the ultimate cock block."

"I'm sure that's exactly what you were getting at," the defeated wizard agreed sarcastically, "However, I can't just undo everything that's been done. My magic isn't that powerful, and now that I've been kicked out of the League of Alchemists, I don't have access to the kinds of raw materials that I would need to make a cure for the transformation potion."

High King Mouse squeaked in terror and trembled in Huscoon the Stats guy's paw. "So you're saying you can't fix this?!"

"No, I can, but I'm going to need something that is extremely hard to find, and access to the castle laboratory, so...if you could hurry up and pardon me-

"Like hell I'm gonna pardon you!" High King Cheesebreath cut him off, squeaking furiously and making everyone d'aww in the process. "I won't as much as whisper those words until you can prove that you have a way to undo the evil acts that you've committed!"

Prying his face from the dirt and reaching into his old, disgusting robes, Acid the Lobsterborn pulled a tiny, barely visible seed from his inner pocket and tossed it to the High King. "Here. Try this, and I'm sure that you'll believe me."

High King Mouse quickly nibbled away at the seed, breaking it down with his small, square teeth and making it easier for him to swallow (phrasing.) With each tiny bite that he took, his fangs grew larger, and his fur grew thicker. His body became more and more massive as the seconds passed, until Huscoon the Stats Guy was forced to set him down in the dirt because of his increasing weight. His thin, small tail, befitting of a mouse, started to sprout tufts of thin, peach fuzz fur, and at the very end, a small gathering of longer, larger furs erupted, like a still picture of a brown flame. His blonde bangs and proud, rich mane started to grow back in around his face, and his long, narrow muzzle, that of a vermin, slowly shrunk back toward his face in a feline shape.

"It's working!" Atimist the Strong But Really Small Mouse declared. "Our High King is returning to his old form!"

"Duh...you guys could have killed me at any time. Do you really think it would be in my best interests to try and betray you right now?" Acid the Lobsterborn asked, proving that he would be an excellent announcer for Cinema Sins.

As a few more moments passed, High King Mouse finished his transformation. His legs grew long and thick with the powerful muscles of a predator once again, and his mane shook and whipped around delicately in the warm breezes of the Bogs of Acid. He stood proud, pressed his paws against his hips in a triumphant pose...

...And flashed everybody.

"Uhm...your majesty," Roosles the Desert Spy said, as she glanced away and covered her eyes, "It would seem that you've lost something."

"I would say that I've gained something! I've got my old body back, and I feel fantastic!"

"You're rather famous for wearing red shorts, though...right?"

"Why yes, I...am. Huh. That's my genitals. What did you guys do with my shorts?"

Chutora the Momma's Bear poked his massive paws together shyly. "Well...they didn't really fit you anymore, since they were quite literally three times the size of your whole body, so we just left them back at the castle."

Acid the Lobsterborn groaned and picked up his ruined wizard cap. "I cannot believe I've been defeated by easily the most ridiculous group of buffoons that I've ever met! It feels like our battle barely even took place! You guys can't even find your own clothes!"

Josianne the Dirtscribette patted the poor wizard on the shoulder. "There there, buddy. You had your moment in the spotlight, and you ruined my entire day! That makes you a lot more effective than the average villain! Isn't that worth something?"

"Hmmph. I guess so...but can't I at least get an epic clash on top of the castle or something? You know, for my troubles of making an antidote for the transformation potion?"

...Sure, why not?

**

The walk back to Lionopolis was boring, as it always was, save for the fact that some of the transformed citizens got an eyeful of High King Nbowa's scepter. Along the way, Josianne the Dirtscribette stepped squarely in the old piece of inauguration cake that had been tossed aside by Bluemoon the Overbearing, and she was trying to scrape it out from between her pawtips the rest of the way back to the castle. Thanks to holding up her end of the bargain, she was in high spirits, thinking that her ordeal would come to an end, and finally, she'd be living in that amazing house in uptown Lionopolis.

She had no idea that she was being targeted the whole way back to Castle Lion, but she really should have, because this is a Furope story, and...yeah...

"When the storm clouds gather overhead, fresh rain water will fall. It's the last ingredient that I'll need to complete the antidote for the transformation potions."

The Great Knights of Furope were standing upon the roof of Castle Lion, a rarely used venue. It was designed almost entirely for the purpose of defense, but it was rare enough that anyone was foolish enough to make a direct assault on such a fortified building, making the roof something of a formality, except in this particular instance.

"...But...there's no storm clouds," High King Nudity pointed out. The sun was still shining overhead, and the sky was every bit as pure of a shade of blue as the unspoiled waters of the ocean. "There's no clouds at all, really."

"Well, no shit," Acid the Lobsterborn muttered. "That's because this was all part of my evil plan to knock you fools off of the roof of Castle Lion, so that I can claim the castle for my own and become the new king of all of Furope! My transformation potions will make the citizens helpless to band together and stop me!"

"Dontcha think it might be just a little too early to be declaring your evil plan?" Bluemoon the Overbearing asked, as she clenched her paws tightly around her war hammer once again.

"It might seem that way...but I was just biding my time! I allowed myself to be captured because this was the perfect venue to achieve my ultimate victory! I've had the antidote all along...but you fools will never get it! Now, wallow in misery and despair as I show you my ultimate weapon!"

Swirls of bright, deep crimson energy surrounded Acid the Lobsterborn, and he lifted his arms up over his head, gathering a great deal of power to himself. The citizens below looked up to the top of the castle and admired the light display as the devious wizard employed his ultimate attack...by casting his energy at Josianne, who was too close by to dodge it in time.

FWOOOSH! Josianne immediately hunched over and shrunk down, but she wasn't in pain. She was merely stunned, and shock immediately set in as she looked at her paws. The pawtips started to mold together into the shape of pincers, and suddenly, she was given a giant pair of claws. Chunks of her fur began clinging together, into the form small plates of chitin, acting as an exoskeleton for the hybrid, transformed female. Her tail shriveled up just slightly, and the end of it flared out into a wide, fan shape, rounded off at the end with three tips. Red chitin spread up from the end of the tail and covered her back, and her muzzle disappeared, replaced with a strange protrusion, almost like a proboscis.

Hunched over at the hips and scaring the living hell out of everybody by appearance alone, Josianne the Dirtscribette was now Lobsterfolf.

"Behold...the ultimate expression of my power! There can be no greater warrior than the Lobsterfolf!" Acid the Lobsterborn declared, as he pointed menacingly at the poor Dirtscribe. "Impenetrable armor, a terrifying face, and a bunch of weird little leg thingies that are just really gross and unsettling at this size! You're all doomed!"

Everyone was frozen with fear, except for Roosles the Desert Spy, who stepped over to the disgusting hybrid creature, and pushed him over onto his back. Because of the extreme weight of his exoskeleton outside of water, he wiggled around on his back for a few moments, but quickly gave up, wanting nothing more than to somehow fall off of the roof of the castle and end it all.

"...So, about that antidote..."

" IMPOSSIBLE! Lobsterfolf is my greatest creation! H-how...how could this happen?!"

"Dude, you are a terrible wizard. I've been watching you since you were banished, and I've gotta say, you probably should have just joined the other alchemists and moved on with your life when you had the chance...I mean...look at that. Does that really look normal?"

Squirming, wiggling and gushing strange looking fluids from the mouth, or what seemed to be a mouth, anyway, Joshiah was...well, he was something, but all of the Great Knights nodded their agreement.

"See, everyone here thinks that you suck at your new job, and all you really managed to do was make Monday that much worse than it already was...now can you please unfuck the food supply so we can get on with our lives?"

"But...this is the worst epic clash in the history of epic clashes! You guys didn't keep your end of the bargain!"

High King Nbowa gestured to the warriors that were still able to wield their weapons, and they closed in on Acid the Lobsterborn, their eyes narrowed and their blades at the ready.

"Okay, okay! I'll give you guys the antidote...but I still want to be allowed back into the League of Alchemists."

"Request denied," High King Nbowa immediately spoke, "But...I do think I have an idea to integrate you back into society...one that will benefit all of us...even poor Joshiah over there!"

Forgive my skepticism, King Smelly Shorts. They turned me into a lobster again.

**

"Are you sure that we can't convince you to join the Great Knights of Furope? You've proven your valor to us more than once this week, and you move with a grace and skill even greater than that of your vulpine or feline brethren!"

Roosles the Desert Spy was standing in the Great Hall, before the throne of High King Nbowa. The Great Knights of Furope all stood around her, dressed in their appropriate weapons and armor, now that they had been cured. Acid the Lobsterborn kept his word and used the antidote on the water supply of the Two Tails River, curing everyone by Tuesday, even Joshiah, who was forced to keep his title of Dirtscribe after the royal moving company found some less than flattering stories about High King Nbowa in his effects.

"I'm flattered by the offer, your majesty, but I'm afraid living cooped up in a castle isn't the life for me. I've got more adventures to find, and I won't find them living such a boring life."

"Then know that you are to be considered royalty in the capitol of Lionopolis, and you're welcome to return to Castle Lion anytime that I'm not taking a nap," High King Nbowa made a decree. In the aftermath of the evil plot, Acid the Lobsterborn was made to be the royal sous chef, and it was found that his alchemy worked perfectly in the kitchen, as a way to improve upon the flavor of all seafood dishes. Because of his ability to turn inferior seafood dishes into succulent lobsters, he became a royal asset, instead of just a royal pain in the ass, and the citizens of Lionopolis were eating even better than before, all except for Joshiah the Dirtscribe, who wasn't really a big fan of lobster, whether or not it was magical.

Roosles the Desert Spy took a small bow before the ruler of Furope. "Thank you, your highness. If the kingdom is ever again in peril, I shall be honored to lend my assistance."

Just outside of the front doors of Castle Lion, Joshiah the Dirtscribe and Lan or Gren, Guardian of Excalifur, were leaning against the walls of the castle and chatting quietly.

"So, you still gonna try to ask her out when she comes out the doors?"

"I'm pretty sure the image of me as a walking lobster monster is burned into her brain," Joshiah groaned, "But even if it isn't, she also saw me as a female. I'd say my chances of even getting her to talk to me are slim to none."

As the massive double doors on the front of the castle opened, and the alluring Roosles walked through, Lan or Gren gave the coyofolf a nudge, snickering at his hesitance. It was obvious that Roosles saw them, but she just rolled her eyes and giggled to herself as she walked past.

"N-need somebody to keep a track of all of your adventures...?" Joshiah the Dirtscribe tried to ask, tripping over his words.

"I've got a pretty solid memory, but thanks," Roosles the Desert Spy replied. "Besides, I don't think a writer has what it takes to keep up with me..."

"I was forced into this job, actually," he pointed out. "In my past life, I was the Arbiter of Large and Powerful Fantasy Weapons."

"And just what did you do to lose that title?"

"Let's just say that the High King isn't always as smart as he seems. He lost a very valuable asset to his team that day, but I never lost my memory of the greatest weapons in the world...that is, if you were looking for a new adventure?"

Roosles the Desert Spy stopped and tapped her footpaw in thought. It was rather obvious to her what was going on, but she managed a tiny grin and turned back to face the pair of mystics.

"What kinda weapons are we talking, here?"

That day, as the sun set, the people of Furope were embarking on new adventures, finding romance, embracing peace, and relaxing with the knowledge that whenever a new evil surfaced, High King Nbowa and the Great Knights of Furope would rise to the occasion, aided by the selfless efforts of the greatest warriors in the kingdom. For many long years, it was destined to prosper...

...But it was only a matter of time before another evil surfaced, and if this one had enough money, it could change the face of Furope for all of eternity...