Right, this is a test-run of "Phineas." I'm throwing it out for comments and welcome criticism of what I'm doing wrong as well as praise for what's right. Don't bother telling me I need more character desc, for that is something I most definitely will ignore. Right, read on and tell me what needs.
Chapter 1
The mouse was jeering at Kiitum. Kiitum was becoming mad. He told the other four weasels in his gang to take positions outside the mouse's door. The mouse wasn't worried. That door had lasted five generations, and would last at least as long after him. Kiitum pulled an odd instrument from his coat pocket. It was maybe two-thirds his length of thin wire, with a weight at the end. He started whirring it at his side. The mouse laughed even harder. What was a weasel and a weighted wire going to do? Kiitum swung the wire hard at the door. Its speed and the strength with which he hit put a deep dent into the oaken door. The wire dropped to Kiitum's side. He swung it into a blur again, buzzing like a wasp. Kiitum hit the door in the same place, causing a hole to be made in the door. The mouse laughed a bit less, and nervously. Kiitum began swinging again. Once more he hit the door. The mouse stopped laughing altogether. The wire had put a jagged tear through most of the door's length. The mouse hurriedly hid his wife and children, who had been calmly sitting behind him. Grabbing his spear from the closet, he steeled himself. Two big weasels kicked the split door in, Kiitum still whirling his weapon. The mouse yelled wildly and charged Kiitum. Kiitum neatly sidestepped and swung his wire at the mouse's neck. Kicking the body out of his way, Kiitum turned to his followers.
"Tear this place apart. If anybeast is in here, kill them."
In a part of the world known to the locals as The Run, the day wound lazily along. Bees droned and farming mice lay snoozing in their fields. Summer was in full force.
Phineas plowed doggedly on. He was a hard-working mouse, young as a father of five can be. His pawplow furrowed the soil with each strong push, after four seasons of standing fallow. Phineas and all his tribe was semi-nomadic. The families moved from house to house, each house well hidden. One could walk through their barrios without knowing. You might wonder what the neatly planted fields of corn were doing in the middle of nowhere. Phineas sang lustily, a rich baritone that made his short beard seem alive with the melody.
I've got my plow here in this field
To me crops will this soil yield
And if it don't I'll hitch my belt
Haha! I still can move.
I'll pick red apples off the tree
And eat my pie with fresh mint tea
I'll sing out loud around the pie
Haha! I still can move.
If I get tired up of this place
A smile will come on my face
My bags I'll pack and I will leave
Haha! I still can move.
Phineas dropped his plow and did a hop-skip. He was almost done with the plowing, and then his eldest sons Linus and Julio would plant. Phineas bent to pick up his plow, and a nut hit him in the back.
"Who did that?" he said, turning and catching a glimpse of the youngest of his brood. "Cassia! What are you doing out of the house?"
"Heehee," she giggled. Her round little body shook with mirth. "Mama made me tum out hea, she mad. Heehee!" And Cassia threw another nut at her dad. It missed widely, but she giggled again and threw yet another nut.
"What am I going to do with you, Cassia?" Phineas asked. He scooped his daughter up and walked toward the house. "Why is mama mad?" he asked the babe.
"Heehee, Friya 'n' me been pinchin' stawbewies."
The farmer shook his head. "You should obey your mama and stop pinching strawberries before you become a little red ball!"
Phineas's wife Hestia was in a huff. The twins Guro and the Friya were creating havoc in the kitchen. Phineas placed his youngest on the floor and watched her toddle towards the table and the bowl of strawberries. "Cassia, stay away from those strawberries! Little menace," were Hestia's first words to the child. Phineas smiled and kissed his wife on her forehead.
"Phineas, you lazy mouse, is that plowing finished?" she asked him.
"Mostly, dear, but I'm sure that Linus can finish, and then Julio and Guro can do the planting," he replied. "It's a beautiful day, Hestia. Why don't you come outside?"
"You know very well why I don't go outside," she said sharply. She moved around the kitchen quickly, putting the crust on an apple pie while simultaneously pulling Guro away from the cabinets. "Phineas, you really must put some sort of lock on that wine cabinet. Guro and Friya both believe they are as old as Linus and Julio."
"Haharr, the little rascals. So, been looking for wine, eh, Guro?"
"Yes, dada," Guro said. "I'm dust as big as Linus and Julio." Phineas smiled at the young one. Guro and Friya were twin terrors, worth more than their share of trouble. Guro and Friya got into more trouble than Linus or Julio combined. And Linus had had more than his share of mishaps.
"Well, I don't think you're quite old enough, little mouse," Phineas said. He patted his son on his head. Then he turned towards the stairs and put a paw to his mouth. "Linus! Get down 'ere now, son!"
Linus come bounding down the stairs. For a mouse his age he was large and very strong, though nowhere near his father's size. The young mouse looked up at his father questioningly. "Yes, father?"
Phineas smiled. "Son, I need you to finish the plowing." Linus murmured a "Yes, sir," and walked out the door.
Dinner that night was excellent. Hestia had worked hard all day to make the apple pie. There was also potato and onion pasties in thick gravy with chestnut tinged cheese. The family of seven ate heartily, nobeast being underfed. Cassia wanted some of Phineas's best dandelion wine. Phineas smiled and explained to her why she was much too young to drink wine yet, to which she asked why Linus and Julio, who she did not think of as being nine and seven seasons older than her, got wine. Linus said he was a big mouse, and Friya said she was too, so why didn't she get any wine? Her mother informed her that a big cup of burdock cordial was sitting untouched by her. Friya suddenly remembered this, drank it in two astounding gulps, and asked if she could have wine now. Phineas laughed so hard tears streamed down his face. Hestia was fuming and reprimanding her daughter on why one should never drink anything in two gulps.
The word "Phineas!" was accompanied by a series of hard knocks on the door of their home. Phineas got up from the table and opened the door. It was a mouse named Pilo. From his disheveled appearance he had run a nice distance.
"Phineas, it's your cousin Tychus," Pilo managed to gasp out.
"What about him?" Phineas asked with a feeling of foreboding. "Is he alright?"
"Well, maybe you should see for yourself."
Phineas turned to his wife and children. "Stay put. I don't want any of you leaving the house." He looked back at Pilo. "Let's go." They went down the steps of Phineas's house and ran towards Tychus's current house.
When Phineas arrived at the house he didn't recognise it. It was burnt to a cinder, curls of smoke wafting up into the forest. The mice who had put out the fire were lying exhausted on the grass, panting.
Pilo said, "It's all right. Phineas is here now." Phineas went over to the wreckage of the house. He moved aside burnt planks, looking for any sign of his cousin Tychus and Tychus' family. He found them, bodies burned past recognition. Phineas gagged. He turned and leaned against Pilo for support.
"Tychus," he said through breaths, choking down tears. "What evil beast would do something like this to such a peaceful mouse?"
"Phineas," Pilo said. "We found Tychus's body, without a head, holding on to his spear." Phineas fell over and cryed harder. "I'm sorry mate."
Phineas's eyes clouded over red. "I'll get the scum that did this if it be the very last thing I do!"
He got up and looked around at his farmer comrades. "Who will join me?"
"I will," Pilo said. "I wouldn't like these fiends lose after what they did here." A chorus of voices joined Pilo's, and soon Phineas was organising his half-score of determined fighters.
Kiitum was camped out. That impudent mouse had provided a wealth of supplies, and the deaths of the mouse's family had given his band amusement. They were camping in a woody grove, sheltered from any possible retribution by a large rock outcrop their backs and heavy brush in front. Kiitum was idly carving a stick with his knife. He wasn't really that fond of knives, his real interest being odd weapons, like his own wire. The idea for that brilliant weapon had come to him one day. He realised that a razor-sharp wire made to swing out by a hefty weight would be ideal. It was a weapon he could actually use, and it was particularly devastating against opponents, who, having never seen such a curious device, would assume that it was useless. Kiitum would usually just lop off their paws with his wire and leave them there.
The stick was taking the shape of a crow with its wings folded. Kiitum glanced at his handiwork and then threw it into the fire.
"Oi Juntu, what's frying?" A big weasel looked over at Kiitum.
"Not much, chief, just a woodpigeon." The weasel rotated the spit the pigeon was on.
"Right. Silas!" A small weasel with shifty jumped at his master's voice.
"Aye, chief?"
"Pass that wine over this way!"
The campfire burned late into the night. Pilo and Phineas stayed up with it, waiting for it to smolder to embers. The others were asleep, scattered in the small clearing, snoring and dreaming. Pilo settled back on a log and gazed into the fire.
"Phineas," he said. "When do you suppose we'll catch up these vermin?"
"Sometime on the morrow, I'd say."
"What'll we do then?" Phineas stared at the fire and took a bite of the cheese in his paw.
"We'll attack." The conversation was over. Pilo crawled away from the fire and wrapped himself in a blanket. Phineas kept looking at the fire. Its red glint reflected in his eyes; he gripped his axe tightly. The vermin were going to regret all they had done tomorrow.
Chapter 1
The mouse was jeering at Kiitum. Kiitum was becoming mad. He told the other four weasels in his gang to take positions outside the mouse's door. The mouse wasn't worried. That door had lasted five generations, and would last at least as long after him. Kiitum pulled an odd instrument from his coat pocket. It was maybe two-thirds his length of thin wire, with a weight at the end. He started whirring it at his side. The mouse laughed even harder. What was a weasel and a weighted wire going to do? Kiitum swung the wire hard at the door. Its speed and the strength with which he hit put a deep dent into the oaken door. The wire dropped to Kiitum's side. He swung it into a blur again, buzzing like a wasp. Kiitum hit the door in the same place, causing a hole to be made in the door. The mouse laughed a bit less, and nervously. Kiitum began swinging again. Once more he hit the door. The mouse stopped laughing altogether. The wire had put a jagged tear through most of the door's length. The mouse hurriedly hid his wife and children, who had been calmly sitting behind him. Grabbing his spear from the closet, he steeled himself. Two big weasels kicked the split door in, Kiitum still whirling his weapon. The mouse yelled wildly and charged Kiitum. Kiitum neatly sidestepped and swung his wire at the mouse's neck. Kicking the body out of his way, Kiitum turned to his followers.
"Tear this place apart. If anybeast is in here, kill them."
In a part of the world known to the locals as The Run, the day wound lazily along. Bees droned and farming mice lay snoozing in their fields. Summer was in full force.
Phineas plowed doggedly on. He was a hard-working mouse, young as a father of five can be. His pawplow furrowed the soil with each strong push, after four seasons of standing fallow. Phineas and all his tribe was semi-nomadic. The families moved from house to house, each house well hidden. One could walk through their barrios without knowing. You might wonder what the neatly planted fields of corn were doing in the middle of nowhere. Phineas sang lustily, a rich baritone that made his short beard seem alive with the melody.
I've got my plow here in this field
To me crops will this soil yield
And if it don't I'll hitch my belt
Haha! I still can move.
I'll pick red apples off the tree
And eat my pie with fresh mint tea
I'll sing out loud around the pie
Haha! I still can move.
If I get tired up of this place
A smile will come on my face
My bags I'll pack and I will leave
Haha! I still can move.
Phineas dropped his plow and did a hop-skip. He was almost done with the plowing, and then his eldest sons Linus and Julio would plant. Phineas bent to pick up his plow, and a nut hit him in the back.
"Who did that?" he said, turning and catching a glimpse of the youngest of his brood. "Cassia! What are you doing out of the house?"
"Heehee," she giggled. Her round little body shook with mirth. "Mama made me tum out hea, she mad. Heehee!" And Cassia threw another nut at her dad. It missed widely, but she giggled again and threw yet another nut.
"What am I going to do with you, Cassia?" Phineas asked. He scooped his daughter up and walked toward the house. "Why is mama mad?" he asked the babe.
"Heehee, Friya 'n' me been pinchin' stawbewies."
The farmer shook his head. "You should obey your mama and stop pinching strawberries before you become a little red ball!"
Phineas's wife Hestia was in a huff. The twins Guro and the Friya were creating havoc in the kitchen. Phineas placed his youngest on the floor and watched her toddle towards the table and the bowl of strawberries. "Cassia, stay away from those strawberries! Little menace," were Hestia's first words to the child. Phineas smiled and kissed his wife on her forehead.
"Phineas, you lazy mouse, is that plowing finished?" she asked him.
"Mostly, dear, but I'm sure that Linus can finish, and then Julio and Guro can do the planting," he replied. "It's a beautiful day, Hestia. Why don't you come outside?"
"You know very well why I don't go outside," she said sharply. She moved around the kitchen quickly, putting the crust on an apple pie while simultaneously pulling Guro away from the cabinets. "Phineas, you really must put some sort of lock on that wine cabinet. Guro and Friya both believe they are as old as Linus and Julio."
"Haharr, the little rascals. So, been looking for wine, eh, Guro?"
"Yes, dada," Guro said. "I'm dust as big as Linus and Julio." Phineas smiled at the young one. Guro and Friya were twin terrors, worth more than their share of trouble. Guro and Friya got into more trouble than Linus or Julio combined. And Linus had had more than his share of mishaps.
"Well, I don't think you're quite old enough, little mouse," Phineas said. He patted his son on his head. Then he turned towards the stairs and put a paw to his mouth. "Linus! Get down 'ere now, son!"
Linus come bounding down the stairs. For a mouse his age he was large and very strong, though nowhere near his father's size. The young mouse looked up at his father questioningly. "Yes, father?"
Phineas smiled. "Son, I need you to finish the plowing." Linus murmured a "Yes, sir," and walked out the door.
Dinner that night was excellent. Hestia had worked hard all day to make the apple pie. There was also potato and onion pasties in thick gravy with chestnut tinged cheese. The family of seven ate heartily, nobeast being underfed. Cassia wanted some of Phineas's best dandelion wine. Phineas smiled and explained to her why she was much too young to drink wine yet, to which she asked why Linus and Julio, who she did not think of as being nine and seven seasons older than her, got wine. Linus said he was a big mouse, and Friya said she was too, so why didn't she get any wine? Her mother informed her that a big cup of burdock cordial was sitting untouched by her. Friya suddenly remembered this, drank it in two astounding gulps, and asked if she could have wine now. Phineas laughed so hard tears streamed down his face. Hestia was fuming and reprimanding her daughter on why one should never drink anything in two gulps.
The word "Phineas!" was accompanied by a series of hard knocks on the door of their home. Phineas got up from the table and opened the door. It was a mouse named Pilo. From his disheveled appearance he had run a nice distance.
"Phineas, it's your cousin Tychus," Pilo managed to gasp out.
"What about him?" Phineas asked with a feeling of foreboding. "Is he alright?"
"Well, maybe you should see for yourself."
Phineas turned to his wife and children. "Stay put. I don't want any of you leaving the house." He looked back at Pilo. "Let's go." They went down the steps of Phineas's house and ran towards Tychus's current house.
When Phineas arrived at the house he didn't recognise it. It was burnt to a cinder, curls of smoke wafting up into the forest. The mice who had put out the fire were lying exhausted on the grass, panting.
Pilo said, "It's all right. Phineas is here now." Phineas went over to the wreckage of the house. He moved aside burnt planks, looking for any sign of his cousin Tychus and Tychus' family. He found them, bodies burned past recognition. Phineas gagged. He turned and leaned against Pilo for support.
"Tychus," he said through breaths, choking down tears. "What evil beast would do something like this to such a peaceful mouse?"
"Phineas," Pilo said. "We found Tychus's body, without a head, holding on to his spear." Phineas fell over and cryed harder. "I'm sorry mate."
Phineas's eyes clouded over red. "I'll get the scum that did this if it be the very last thing I do!"
He got up and looked around at his farmer comrades. "Who will join me?"
"I will," Pilo said. "I wouldn't like these fiends lose after what they did here." A chorus of voices joined Pilo's, and soon Phineas was organising his half-score of determined fighters.
Kiitum was camped out. That impudent mouse had provided a wealth of supplies, and the deaths of the mouse's family had given his band amusement. They were camping in a woody grove, sheltered from any possible retribution by a large rock outcrop their backs and heavy brush in front. Kiitum was idly carving a stick with his knife. He wasn't really that fond of knives, his real interest being odd weapons, like his own wire. The idea for that brilliant weapon had come to him one day. He realised that a razor-sharp wire made to swing out by a hefty weight would be ideal. It was a weapon he could actually use, and it was particularly devastating against opponents, who, having never seen such a curious device, would assume that it was useless. Kiitum would usually just lop off their paws with his wire and leave them there.
The stick was taking the shape of a crow with its wings folded. Kiitum glanced at his handiwork and then threw it into the fire.
"Oi Juntu, what's frying?" A big weasel looked over at Kiitum.
"Not much, chief, just a woodpigeon." The weasel rotated the spit the pigeon was on.
"Right. Silas!" A small weasel with shifty jumped at his master's voice.
"Aye, chief?"
"Pass that wine over this way!"
The campfire burned late into the night. Pilo and Phineas stayed up with it, waiting for it to smolder to embers. The others were asleep, scattered in the small clearing, snoring and dreaming. Pilo settled back on a log and gazed into the fire.
"Phineas," he said. "When do you suppose we'll catch up these vermin?"
"Sometime on the morrow, I'd say."
"What'll we do then?" Phineas stared at the fire and took a bite of the cheese in his paw.
"We'll attack." The conversation was over. Pilo crawled away from the fire and wrapped himself in a blanket. Phineas kept looking at the fire. Its red glint reflected in his eyes; he gripped his axe tightly. The vermin were going to regret all they had done tomorrow.
