Distress- Explanations (Prologue) by Dannyman12, literature
Literature
Distress- Explanations (Prologue)
"Being a Shaman isn't easy these days. Having heard of the two new Skill Trees that Team Atelier had managed to master and teach our world... I don't know if they want us to help eachother... Or kill eachother. We have five options of Shaman Skills: Mechanician, Spirit Master, Cheese Keeper, Wildling and Physicist. As a Cheese Keeper, our duty is to ensure our disciples get to the cheese and back to the hole safely. As a Spirit Master, we watch over the mice, belittled with elegant feathery wings, and as a Mechanician, we experiment to make different contraptions. When we were successful, we attained 'Hard Mode', or as I like to call it, 'Sec
I'm a Survivor. {{TFM Fanfic}} by StarryFly, literature
Literature
I'm a Survivor. {{TFM Fanfic}}
None of the character names are mine. They were just random names I came up with, and I left it very vague, so please do not think I am writing about you.
Lily woke with a start, her blue hair matted and tangled. Her head pounded, leaving her in the dark of where she was. The familiar bed sheets relieved her a bit. She turned on the nearby lamp to illuminate the room. Her clock read six in the morning. Time to get up. She stretched her back, yawning while doing so.
She headed to the kitchen, looking into the fridge. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of the empty area. Not one piece of cheese in sight. She knew what she had to do.
Everyone began to examine the map, though I was more interested in the surroundings around me. The photographs in black and white with occasional colour markings, some of the pictures on the walls were very expertly drawn, or were abstract drawings which were mostly made as a gift for the TFF crew. I felt a light punch against my shoulder and looked to my side, Boxie was pointing to the holographic map with an unimpressed look. Chuckling nervously, I looked up to the map as Trans informed us of our prime objective.
'This is a map of all of Shamrock Island,' he continued, obviously having not known that I hadn't heard his first few sentences,
As we were lowered into the building, we noticed lots of different paintings of children crying over their parents' bodies, with captions on them. One even read:
Victim 502: Redtiir, Age 2 1/2, parents killed by illness, died beside bodies due to infection.
For a second I thought they weren't going to be nice people, recording childrens' deaths, but I was shocked when I noticed a familiar Shaman's face on one of the pictures, the sign saying:
Victim 800: Derpaderpy, Age 4, parents lost to Dark Shaman, rescued and raised by Brightleia, missing for 3 years.
Brightleia was the name of the Shaman that raised me, who taught me how to defend myself
I remembered that day like it happened just yesterday- After my cake hat was fused to my head with magic, I had fled to recollect my senses, only to be attacked by her. When she was done with me, I was pretty much redder than the day I was born, only it wasn't my mother's blood... it was my own. Death isn't exactly as relaxing as it feels, the fact that I was nearly turned to charcoal hurt worse than taking twenty bullets to every limb and still somehow surviving. But during my death, I saw a figure of a mouse who of which I had always believed wasn't exactly... real. It was her- the Great Deity, the goddess of the Transformice world, I was s