Vincent, Thunder God
is a name people speak well of
Banned

I don't remember saying 'depressed to no end' but it sounds like me (

Excellent. Thank you.

I don't like thunders.
But I like thundergods.

Page 6. My quest for usernotes continues in earnest!

Oh, look, a page.

Hello Levian. How's life in the fast lane?

me neither! :mog:

hi!

I have absolutely no clue.

Men at Work > Men Without Hats.

Both in bands and out of them.

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And now the continuation of Lunar Weaver's bedtime story.

Previously we were introduced to the squirrel/crow debate and how one intelligent, peace-keeping squirrel managed to settle who would win the right to all carrion in the forest. The first challenge was up, and now Iknuk was suspecting the crows of foul play, yet was bound to keeping his suspicions from agitating the two parties further ...

Originally Posted by Vincent, Thunder God

Well, let's see now (a bed-time/tea-time hybird story, this should be interesting).

Once upon a time, there were several small furry animals gathered in a cave. The host, a guinea pig with a white apron circling her wide girth, brought out a platter of crumpets, butter, jam, and tea. As all of the furry creatures handed out the food to each other, the recently developing discrimination between the squirrels and the crows, who had harbored harsh feelings for each other after the infamous debate between who could eat the carrion on the plains, was soon evident.

The squirrels intentionally spilled the tea all over the crows, and the crows retaliated with thrown gobs of butter. The guinea pig observed with terror as slowly all of the animals entered into a table-wide food fight. Allies on both sides were soon covered with food. The host could only sigh and regret inviting the squirrels and crows for the same fight. At the point she had sent out the invitations she had not yet heard about the debate, which had occured mere weeks ago.

Suddenly one of the more good-natured squirrels, who had only half-heartedly entered the fray and was tired of the pointless disagreement, gathered the attention of the others with no little amount of effort. Finally, when the silence had fallen, he announced in his squeaky Squirrel-Language that the winner of several matches of strength, bravery and intelligence would be able to claim full right to the carrion. Soon translaters were exaplaining his propisiton between the animal races.

At his suggestion the guinea pig looked releaved that the fight had ended, but seemed doubtful that carrion could taste anywhere near as good as her crumpets. Evidently the squirrels and crows only wanted it as stores for the winter... nobody really wanted to eat it, but in an emergency it would keep them alive. This would be an advantage over the winter for the group of animals that took claim of the scavenged dead creatures.

After much cawing, squeaking, baying and barking, they all agreed on the propisition. This war could not last forever...

Originally Posted by Vincent, Thunder God

The squirrel who had organized the three matches testing strength, bravery and intelligence, Iknuk, left late at night to prepare for the first challenge. In his tiny paw he held a nut he had dilligently painted gold. Under the moonlight he found his way through the sleeping forest, taking out his flashlight when the trees blocked out the natural light.

When he found the perfect location, he dropped the nut and partially hid it with various items on the forest floor. Only one small portion of shell could be seen, and only then from a certain direction and vantage point.

The next morning he explained to each team of animals that only one person from each was allowed to participate in this first challenge. It was also to be a blind pick so that neither team could cheat by choosing someone especially well-suited to the task. One agile, sharp-eyed crow named Strawb was chosen. In contrast, a slow-moving, burly squirrel named Chukinetch was chosen. Iknuk was obviously concerned; the crows' team member was much better suited to the task.

After Iknuk had explained the simple task, the two challengers prepared. As Iknuk shot the starting arrow into the sky, the two members left. Strawb took immediate flight and started a systematic search while Chukinetch lumbered about at a snail's pace. Iknuk tried not to look devastated.

It had only been 15 mintues before Strawb returned with the nut in his beak. Iknuk raised his bushy eyebrows and stared at the victory dances of the crows with open contempt. Iknuk was not suprised at Strawb's victory; he was suprised at the speed of it. By his estimations it should have taken at least an hour.

Iknuk sent out a team to find Chukinetch. They found him mauled to death, lying in a bed of fox fur.

Somehow it didn't add up. Chukinetch wasn't the smartest squirrel in the forest, but he knew the signs of predators, and he was also strong enough to create hiding places within trees and other objects, provided said objects were weak enough. There were several such possible hiding places nearby.

Something was wrong. Iknuk was a level-headed person and would not expect foul play without due cause, but now he was beginning to suspect the crows. It wouldn't look good to accuse them of anything, however; he needed more concrete proof. He had to solve this before the crows had forced a victory, or cancel the competition and risk worse discrimination from the crows, who would surely complain that it had been stopped due to their impending victory.

The whole affair was in danger not only of failing to stop the feuding, but of increasing it's intensity if he tried to shed light on his suspiscions.

What could he do know?

Dusk was fast approaching. As Iknuk gazed upon the corpse of his friend, Chukinetch, he tried to add up what slight evidence of foul play he had. He had told his other squirrel acquaintances he was leaving to grieve at his tree-house… but he had returned here in the hopes of taking knowledge from Chukietch’s dead spirit. (Under the old customs of the Squirrel religions, spirits lingered for days to impart their newfound absolute knowledge gained from the Heavens.) If he could design a full list of suspicious scenarios and present it in a plain but implicatory light, he might be able to prove the crows' cheating in a mock-court accusation, provided he could create a fair jury.

How had the crows found out about what the challenge would entail, picking someone so well suited for the challenge? He had told no one, not even a fellow squirrel. He had not planned to tip either side, not even his own? Furthermore, he had made sure to check for followers very carefully.

More importantly, how would he prove they rigged it? He tried to look at the issue from all directions, praying for guidance from Chukinetch.

As of yet the crows had not formally viewed the crime scene or even heard it; they had likely laid Chukinetch here after murdering him, expecting the squirrels to search for him eventually, staying markedly away. Using Chukinetch’s likely murder as part of his accusation would surely improve the case, but right now, it was only a contributing factor. The speed at which the crows had won showed that, despite rigging the first challenge, they were still as conceited as a victorious nation after a major war. A better tactic would have been to take longer, going along with a likely time now that all competition was obliterated. Instead, now that it had been rigged, the crows had had made their win seem even more devastating. If he could trap them in their foolish pride, perhaps it would be useful.

The first thing that came to mind was using reverse psychology. In the trail he could anger them by saying they weren’t capable of killing any squirrel, let alone a strong one. Along this line, perhaps with enough goading he could eventually get them to admit it killing Chukinetch. However, on second thought, that was just too simple… they would see through it.

Perhaps if he changed the crime scene enough, completely moving Chukinetch’s corpse and... He continued formulating the plan. It would probably work!

The next day he prepared for the new challenge. He needed something to stall time, and then he would have to convene a meeting with his most trusted friends for the new plan that evening. He could also try to begin the trail the next morning.

He announced it would be a simple battle between one crow and one squirrel, refereed by himself and another crow. He allowed each team to pick a member best suited to the match, figuring if the crows somehow knew again what the challenge would be, it would be safest to skip the blind pick originally planned for all challenges.

He took all the squirrels aside, but managed to stay very close to the crows, and observed one of them leaning over slightly. He whispered, but kept his voice loud enough for everyone to hear him as he said “We still haven’t found Chukinetch” and signed away all of the surprised murmurs and shocked looks with his paws. Hopefully the squirrels would assign the surprised responses to worry. “I’ve searched the whole area. I’m starting to suspect the crows of taking him hostage!” At this point some of the squirrels caught on, at least partially… almost all feigned subdued anger.

A short time later, Iknuk felt depressed as he watched the crows gain another victory. The fight had been very close, but as referee he was forced to agree with the crow referee that the crows had won. At least he could be sure that the fight had been fair this time.

Hours later, he had held the meeting and sent a crack team of squirrels to guard Chukinetch’s corpse.

Unfortunately when he had revealed his suspicions, Zekuk, one of his friends, had become so infuriated that he had opted that they just kill all the crows in an all-out vendetta-fueled siege. Several others immediately agreed.

He had reasoned with them that the crows had just won the second challenge: their beaks and flight was a huge asset in battle. The squirrel race would be wiped out because of a dispute over carrion!

“It’s not just that anymore!” Zekuk had persisted. “It’s not longer about the damn carrion! It’s a murder! And they deserve to pay in kind!”

“There is no doubt in my mind that there are innocent crows in this forest,” Iknuk had calmly replied. “After your vain, uncontrolled ire has been satisfied, how many corpses will there be lying dead, on both sides, who had no part in the murder or no knowledge of it? I can prove their crime, and in doing so, forfeit the competition based on it in trail You all simply must follow my plan!”

“But will they ever truly pay their dues…?” And with that, Zekuk had hopped out the window in exasperation, landing on a branch and running away.

Now, Iknuk was wondering if his plan would work, waiting for the return of the guards around Chukinetch’s corpse. Suddenly, one messenger from the group of guards did arrive, out of breath; the message was obviously urgent.

“The crows came just as you expected, Iknuk, to inspect if the corpse was still there. They came directly to the corpse, and in full view of everyone present. They were shocked to see us, and started to fly away. Just as you said, the fact that they would come to that place directly, in the cloak night, and leave at the sight of us, would be excellent evidence. Except that…” He trailed off, looking ashamed.

Iknuk frowned in consternation. “What, Goknik, what?”

“Zekuk arrived with several other squirrels from the opposite direction and attacked them from the threes!”

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EVENING SERVICE OF THE CHURCH OF THE THUNDER GOD

Evastio, High Priest: "Welcome to the Evening Service fellow worshippers. Tonight we shall sing some hyms in Holy praise of His divine power..."

Link 31793, Shaman: *prepares overhead*

Mr. Nosebleed, Monk: *takes out cue, leads chorus of worshippers*

Chorus: "The Lord is my sheperd
He leads us with cracking peals.
He warns us with lightning
He loves us all equally
We obey the Thunderan"

Mr.Nosebleed, Monk: *tries not to laugh at the bad singing, fails*

Link 31793, Shaman: *takes out new sheet of lyrics, frowns at Mr.Nosebleed, places new sheet on overhead*

SUDDENLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A worshipper of Itsunari 5000, Fire God, enters the Church and sets a fire.

Evastio, High Priest: "Repent, fool!"

Link 31793, Shaman: "Someone get the holy water!"

Mr.Nosebleed, Monk: "Worry not, the Thunder God will save us... somehow..."

*as worshippers flee, the Church staff hope for salvation*

Vincent, Thunder God: *viewing the proceedings from his holy seat in Heaven, he quickly solves the problem. Using his powers, he starts a storm just above the Church, saving everyone. * "Damn Heathens!"

(If anyone is wondering, this is part creative writing and part group advertising, but most of all it's satire about all religions.)

Put a smile on!