[Solo] Of Rabbits and Men

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1010 words		The Grey Princess
Today, there will be no adorable samurai to tell you about her life, or a narrator from another world to recount her observation. Today, the silver-furred I shall regale you with my journeys, my trials and travails. I am the Grey Princess, and this is my story to tell. My life started in a small hutch hidden deep within the Windsor Greatwoods. Unlike other rabbits who were brown and dull, I had very pretty silver fur since the moment that I was born. Well, ‘born’ is a rather odd word to pertain to how I came to be, for the elders said that I just popped out of nowhere just as all others of my kind did. Unlike frenmic rabbits who walked on all fours and started out as weak little Level 1 piece of shits, I appeared with my glorious eleven levels which could wipe the smile off of any ‘high’ leveled frenmic rabbit’s face. After all, the brown rabbits only went as high as Level 5. But enough of those useless weaklings. This story is about yours truly. I appeared in that part of the Greatwoods and was mentored by an older enemic buster, some old croak called the White Queen. She was kind and graceful and everyone liked her, but most of all, she was useful. The White Queen was able to defend her warren that stretched for almost a mile beneath the ground. The warren had sections which were guarded by some Level 5 frenmic rabbits who at some point were introduced to me, but I was never good with names. There was a balding guy, and another one always had mud on his fur, still another reeked of herbs, and a fourth one remained incredibly thin despite his voracious appetite. So anyway, back to me. I was a sight to behold of course. The White Queen was all pretty and snow-white, but I had shiny greyish fur that gleamed under sunlight. All the does wanted to be me and all the bucks wanted to woo me, but I did not care for any of them. The White Queen, who I must admit was very wise, had told me of all the complications that accompanied getting a partner and having little meat babies… in the end I decided that love was a shitty thing and that I would not get involved with it. Day and night, frenmic rabbits fought one another for my hand despite my opposition, but still they kept coming for me. I came to the conclusion that male creatures are very stupid. Their brains must be located in their smaller heads. One day, when another group of bucks decided to fight each other for my hand even though I bluntly told them to neep off, I decided that enough was enough. I proposed to them a single challenge: they could all attack me at the same time and the one who would be able to hold me down to the ground for five counts could take me as his doe. Well, of course the prideless dickheads grabbed the opportunity to have me for themselves, especially since the White Queen was training me to be her heir. They thought they could actually beat me what with all of them attacking at once. Hah! When the bucks, numbered around five… or was it six? Anyway, when they lunged at me, I simply used [Wabbit Season] and blew them all away when I spun in place. Stunned, they could not move for a few seconds and I took that opportunity to beat the shit out of them. And literally too, for two of them which I could only presume to be the weakest ones, pooped out their breakfast. It was a rather disgusting sight but I spared no time in moving onto my next target. And the next… and the next. Until the White Queen yelled for me to stop as I was beating a buck to a single hit point of his life. I expected to be reprimanded for the White Queen had not spared me from lectures and scolding, but instead she gave me a pat on the back and presented to me a magnificent wooden club. All that time, I only had a small stick which was once part of a fallen tree; it had gotten weathered and dented due to the beatings that I dished out daily during my patrols, so the replacement was timely. And the club was not just made of regular wood, no; it was made of a beautiful hard wood, and I was hesitant to stain it with the blood of my enemies. But what good is a club if not for blunt force trauma? Little did I know that, that was the beginning. The White Queen was close to the end of her days as the leader of the warren, and so she wanted to pass the torch on to me. At that time, I had no idea that she was thinking about such a thing; I thought that I still needed to learn more and to fight more fiercely as the defender of the useless frenmic rabbits. But maybe she saw something in me… something that I could not see. Or perhaps because it was because of the fact that I beat up six full-grown male frenmic rabbits to a bunch of bloody pulps on the ground. Either way, nothing could have prepared me for what transpired some days after that incident. Beneath the silver moon, upon a little hill in a clearing at the Windsor Greatwoods, I was to take the most decisive step of my life. I had to a decision to make, and no battle that I ever fought would have prepared me for it. The hooting owls gave no clues, damn owls; they merely sat there upon the highest branches hooting away. The moonbeams did not speak to me… it would have been crazy if they did. That night, I felt all alone as I had to step up to being the leader of the warren.

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1080 words		The Butterfly Effect
I can remember those days clearly as if it was just yesterday. Once such sunny morning had been a calm one with no attacks from wayward pittered boars or curious weasels. Ever since I totaled the haughty bucks, no one dared to try and propose to me either, and so I enjoyed my rounds through the warren. Some of the does, much to the chagrin of their husbands, offered their little meat babies for me to name and I thought up random ones like “Tomato Face” and “Fartberry”. They seemed to like it, the stupid bitches. Of course, I knew that they were just sucking up to me because I was going to be the next queen. I looked forward to the day when I would rule over them all. The hopeless shits would grovel at my feet so that I would spare them from a culling that I would begin as soon as I was queen. The warren was much too big with useless individuals… they need to be booted out, or sent to the Rainbow Bridge so that they would not have to suffer. The White Queen had the patience to deal with everyone; I did not. But in all my days of disciplining the brown bastards, the White Queen’s lectures for me became shorter, fewer and farther in between. I reckon she finally realized that an iron hand worked better than a soft touch, for the frenmic rabbits was a useless lot and deserved none of the good things that we gave them. -or so I thought at the beginning, when I was young and stupid. The first step to my change of heart came when muddy-furred elder, who apparently went by the appropriate name Mudfoot, invited me to watch the construction of a burrow. For all of you unlearned readers, a warren is a system of burrows where rabbits live away from the prying eyes of adventurers and bullying boars. That old Mudfoot was the head builder, the one who planned out where each and every burrow should be created so that it would not interfere with the structure of other burrows. Now, at that time I did not know about all the technicalities surrounding the construction of a burrow. I did not have one after all; the White Queen and I lived apart from the warren, in our respective hollow logs, the very same ones where we were first found. But anyway, back to the burrow construction. If I remember correctly, and I am sure that I do, Mudfoot first inspected the last burrow in that area and its distance from the burrow that was closest to it. It was roughly twenty hops away, and so he measured the same distances in many directions and marked the places where his last paw prints lay. There were three locations which seemed to be suitable for a new burrow, and so the next order of affair was to check the soil. Mudfoot immediately rejected the first location for it was too muddy. He said that the interior of the burrow would not hold for long, and it might cave in one the prospective occupants. The second location seemed to be alright, and so it was to be compared to the third location. It was then that all hell broke loose, for a young pittered boar suddenly charged in from behind some nearby bushes. Mudfoot, old as he was and rather engrossed in his burrow construction, was almost gored to many tiny rabbit bits by the pittered boar. I, of course, threw my very graceful self between the elder and the boar. I gave that ugly snout a huge whacking, and that sent the young pittered boar down to his left side. He squealed in pain and swore revenge upon all frenmic rabbits... which was rather strange since I was an enemic buster and not a frenmic rabbit. Last I hear, he found a burrow at the foot of a tree and murdered its occupants, but subsequently was turned to bacon by an adventurer of diminutive stature, pure black hair and a mere Level 1. Not that I care. What’s important at that time was that I was able to prevent Mudfoot’s death. I realized that frenmic rabbits were such frail creatures, for soon everyone around me was crying and wailing and groping Mudfoot all over to make sure that he was still in one piece. The elder cried too, for no apparent reason seeing as he was unharmed. I could not make odds or ends of it, but there was one thing that I was sure of. When the elder came up to me and patted my shoulder, and said ‘Thank you!’, it felt very nice. B-but it’s not like I wanted to be acknowledged or anything! I was an enemic buster, born to defend the stupidly frail frenmic rabbits, and that was the only reason why I defended him after all. I wasn’t worried about him... no way! Back to the burrow construction- well, understandably, it was delayed. Mudfoot rested for a while and waited for everyone to calm down too. Boy, did that take quite a while. I thought I was going to get bored out of my wits! Sitting by idly really wasn’t my thing, but there was nothing that I could do at that time. Even though it was so very against my nature, I sat down and actually relaxed alongside the frenmic rabbits. Some of them still sobbed, afraid that the Level 2 young pittered boar would return and wreak havoc in the warren. However, I knew better. The level gap between my awesome self and the boar put it in its place, and since boars were bullies, they would not return to fight someone that could pummel them to the ground. Eventually, Mudfoot stood up and resumed the burrow construction. He looked around the third location, and stated that it was too close to the darker part of the woods. The boar attack attested to that, and so the small group of helpers hopped back to the second location which was to be prepared for the construction. I sat close to them with my magnificent club ready to defend their weak asses. I would not have admitted it at that time, but it was rather intriguing to watch them slave off under the sun for the good of someone else. Then again, I was basically doing the same thing albeit in a more violent way.

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550 words		A Frozen Heart
Oh, he was so getting it! A club to the face, or down his throat, or up his behind- I was going to make sure that the little shithead got what he deserved! What had gotten me so riled up just then, that I would run through the forest while hitting every tree trunk along the way? Why, weasels, of course! And not just any weasel, no. This was one very particular briar weasel who lived near the warren along with his shithead father and shithead mother. This weasel was always bored with his little life because he did nothing but lurk about and bother frenmic rabbits; well, since he was bored, he figured it would be nice to run away with a certain enemic buster’s lunch. A juicy red apple right sat right before me... when suddenly, a reddish brown fur ball of stupidity dashed right in and stole it from under my nose! The absurdity of it all! The frenmic rabbits laughed it off and said that I could just get another apple, but no- that was not the point. If I let that little dick run off with MY food, who knows what he’ll dash off with next time? And so I ran after the little briar weasel as fast as I could. Being the awesome enemic buster that I am, I caught up with the young one soon enough. He was right in front of me with the shiny red apple in his mouth. With one powerful leap, I sped off towards him and rolled on the ground as I held tightly onto his fur. As we tumbled around a few times, eventually he let go of the apple. Perhaps the fact that I was hitting his face with my paw, repeatedly, convinced him to let go too. I kept hitting him even after he let go of the apple- someone had to teach this shithead a lesson, and if his parents wouldn’t, then I would! Before long, I heard him say something like... Stop, please... or some variant thereof. I kept hitting his face though up until he was so battered and bruised that he could not speak anymore. That signaled my victory. I had triumphed over the briar weasel! A child, but a briar weasel nonetheless. I stood up and turned my back towards him as he said called out to his parents, but no help came. Come to think of it, the young briar weasel seemed thinner and dirtier than usual, as if no one had been taking care of him... oh well, not my problem. The warren has its own issues; briar weasels problems are not among them. I turned to my bright red apple which had fallen to the ground. Ugh, it was no longer bright nor red... the place that had been bitten by the weasel had turned to an ugly brown colour. It was useless. As useless as the little briar weasel with the beaten up face. They deserved each other, so I just tossed the useless apple right at the weasel’s ugly mug. He seemed happy for some reason even as he laid there looking like a sorry piece of crap. I huffed and turned my back to him, and then off I went back to the warren.