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17:37:06 Apr 6th 09 - Mr. Killer:
I was going to do a map, but I'm too lazy and it would be too difficult.
The Raiding of the Cookie Press
Chapter I
The great wooden slab stretched majestically into the sky. It was pulled open, swinging on its hinges, by a hand, gigantic and fat, yet muscle lay beneath that fat. This hand entered that great expanse, which was as black as the night sky. A few twinkles were to be seen here and there, the glimmer of silver foil. It drew from the press three biscuits, two wrapped in strange paper, the other plain and dry. It disappeared. The hand fought with the paper on the others, and won the battle, casually hurling the remains of paper to the floor, along with precious crumbs. More crumbs followed as the cookies were devoured. White crumbs, black crumbs and brown crumbs. Chips of chocolate chips. These were smashed as the giant being delighted in their demolishment.
A fresh cookie from within the press heard the crunching, the signal of its companion's deaths. Its tiny voice echoed throughout the cupboard.
"When will we rise up against this demon of destruction? When will we free ourselves?"
"Hush, Chip, it comes to us all. It come to us quicker with such hasty words. There is no escape from the yellow imps, nor the red devil. Be silent, it will take the biscuit again soon."
"What?" cried Chip, our young hero, aggravated further. "It eats more than three of us as the white face is straight? How can it hold such amounts?"
"Patience, little one. Such biscuits as you are but a dainty to it. You may be one of the lucky ones. You may find the way to the Bin. Then, you will be safe."
Chip lapsed into silence. The steady tick of the white face was heard every so often. The ticks blended together as the biscuits huddled together in silence, waiting only for the sound of doom, the opening of the press.
The time came. The press was opened to that blinding light. Chip gazed fearfully, his crumbs shaking, as the hand descended upon him. It lifted him into the sky, along with a few of his kindred, the chocolate chips. There were more of them sealed within the press than any other biscuit. Chip shuddered as the hand dropped him towards the evil demon's mouth. In this way, was our hero savoured.
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17:48:33 Apr 6th 09 - Sir Karzun Demonsul:
XD
If only this was an RP instead of a story...
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17:18:25 Apr 7th 09 - Mr. Killer:
The Paper Bird
Chapter II
In another part of the vast Kitchen, a different press was slowly opened. This press contained various sweets. Tins of Roses(sweets, if you didn't know) lined the sides, while packets and boxes of other sweets were arranged neatly in the centre. A skinny hand darted in and drew from one of these tins four Roses. It fumbled with the wrappers, eventually making an intricate shape with each. The Roses themselves lay cold and shivering on the table, they had no clothing to keep them warm. They watched in horror as their cloaks were torn and neatly arranged together. These papers formed the shape of a bird, delightful perhaps, to a child's eye, but not to the Roses. They saw it as an ugly piece of workmanship, made with none other than their own wrappers.
However, soon it was in the air, fluttering its wings to the soft breeze of a fan. It glided gracefully around the room, sweeping through the air, deftly dodging any obstacles. Even the Roses appreciated the craft at that moment, they had heard of other papers being folded into such shapes, but their own paper was cumbersome, with no other purpose than to wrap the Roses safely in. Suddenly, the power to the fan was cut off, the art of a demon no doubt, and the bird plunged from its height. The Roses cried in horror, and the bird itself was disappointed. Disappointed, as it had not gotten to see the sights that an ordinary bird sees, viewing from the skies. Disappointed that it had not soared as a bird should, high above the clouds. Disappointed, as it was not free.
The paper bird fell towards the stove, which was opened wide, gaping like the mouth of a hound, red and starving for blood. The paper shrivelled into a tiny ball, melting slowly. The Roses heard the crackling of the flames, and knew that their only possession had been destroyed by the hungry flames. They wept, for their end could not have been more disastrous. To see their wrappings destroyed and to know that they would then be destroyed by the giant being. The hand plucked them from the table, and the creature gobbled them all in one go. If those Roses had lived but a moment longer, they would have heard the evil cackle, gloating over their deaths. "A Rose by any other word would taste as sweet," the evil being said, a smirk at the corners of his mouth. What this meant, the roses would not have known. It would not have mattered.
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18:24:39 Apr 9th 09 - Mr. Killer:
The Gathering
Chapter III
After these terrible events, the continuous wars of the people(that being the chocolate and various sweets and such) were called to a halt. It was decided to call a council. The stale and wise, as well as the fresh and ignorant, travelled towards the table. Some travelled over the brown and white caps of the Toblerone mountains, itself moving at a steady pace. They avoided, of course, Sliabh (mountain) Seacláid(chocolate), which towered dark and threatening into the sky. It was unknown how it had been formed, though many rumours floated around. Some crossed the chocolate river, others came from the freezing depths of the freezer. All came, or at least all of importance.
A few had arrived early, the appointed hour for the meeting was late in the day, at seven or so, or whatever that was in the reckoning of junk. An old and wizened sweet lay to the side, resting after his arduous climb. His wrapping had once been a brilliant blue, and a few streaks of crimson red ran through it, but now the only colour was a faded silver. He could not even recall his maker's name. Most had the names clearly printed on their wrappings, some were faded to almost nothing, but none so unclear as his. They were names like Cadbury, Nestle and the like. An old bun joined him soon, crumbs had fallen from his head, only the thin paper that covered him had prevented him losing himself completely. He had once had a few raisons in him, but they had been lost in the long ages he had lived. He called out to a few muffins runnings gaily about, who were supposed to be making preparations for the meeting.
"Oy, you young ragamuffins! You're supposed to be making sure there's room for all."
His cries went unheard, or at least unnoticed. He relaxed again, a brief glimmer of a smile passing on his lips. He remembered when he had been fresh, and those few occasions he escaped the confines of press, fridge or other prison. He conversed with the ancient sweet for a while, recalling days past.
At last, the remainder of the slowest arrived. A vast sponge cake took centre, and spoke of the savagery of humans, and it was decided upon a rebellion. A revolution, mayhaps. A small sweet, wrapped in a great many wrappers, none of which were his own, stood at the side and listened. It was about time, he thought to himself.
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14:46:37 Apr 12th 09 - Mr. Killer:
Damn fáda, why couldn't it stay? Now the title looks really stupid. I suppose I'd best write more of this. In a while...
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14:52:23 Apr 13th 09 - Mr. Killer:
Hmmm...
The Coming of Easter
Chapter IV
They had decided on a plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it wasn't a bad plan.
They, however, had not counted on Easter and the evil chocolate bunnies. These harbingers
of doom came, and they brought their minions with them, massive chocolate eggs
and lesser chocolate eggs, and slaves, various sweets and bars. It was a
setback, to be sure, and quickly various forces were sent out to take them
down.
The sweet with many wrappers was
in one of these groups. They travelled towards the press in which the chocolate
bunnies lived. They had to traverse the great expanse of the kitchen but,
eventually, they got there. The press opened a crack, and many tiny chocolate
eggs rushed out, hurling themselves at their aggressors. They and their adversaries
fell down to oblivion, the survivors could hear the crunching of chocolate below
on the tiles. Next, larger eggs tumbled forth, chasing away the brave fighters.
It was clear they would not get anywhere with brute force. Huge pies and tarts
pushed bowls and spoons in front of the press. Their foe had climbed to a higher
part of the press, and it was now open wide. Small sweets and chocolates climbed
onto the spoons, and were propelled upwards. Our hero, the sweet of many
wrappers, was launched into the air. He landed on a bunny, which jumped in
fright, and managed to get a grip on it. The bunny leaped at the pies below,
and the sweet skilfully jumped from him, landing in the fray. He deftly dodged
punches, and worked his way to the biggest bunny there. He was kicked aside
easily.
When the sweet awoke, he found
that he was back in his own press. They had won the battle, the bunnies and
minions had been destroyed. They had managed to recruit some eggs and bars for
their cause, to fight against the humans. The bunnies had oppressed the various
chocolate goods, and forced them to fight for them. It was now time for the
real challenge, the chocolate rebellion.
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