Astarte Said Than Done

BrikWars fiction in long-prose form. Trigger warning: Walls of text

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Astarte Said Than Done

Post by Quantumsurfer » Sun Apr 16, 2017 11:44 pm

March 28. R. 2,016

“Oi! C'mere ya little ankle bitah!” Astarte Bunny laughed as he scooped his youngest from the floor and swept her up into his arms. The little bunny giggled as she squirmed in his grasp and the sound set his heart alight. “Now,” he whispered conspiratorially, “Go find yer brothers and give 'em a bop on the head, just like yer old dad taught ya, eh?” She laughed and sprang from his arms with new speed and determination. Bunny laughed again when she vanished into the adjacent room and he heard several loud thunks and cries of surprise.

“Anata wa hontōni kanojo o hagemasubekide wa arimasen.”*

Bunny turned and felt his spirits soar even higher. “Shinji!” he exclaimed and raced across the room to sweep the new arrival into a passionate embrace. They laughed as they fell into together and had only a moment or so before a deluge of their kittens swarmed them.

“Mommy!” they cried in unison and fell to talking over one another in a rush of comments, complaints, and questions. She laughed again, a light, twinkling sound.

“Shoo!” she said in a mock serious tone, “Anata no mazushī hahaoya ni isshun o ataeru!” Most of the children scattered off again into the small house, chasing each other with boundless energy.

“How was your trip, love?” Bunny asked as he took her coat and hung it upon the hall tree. She grew moderately more serious and snuggled into him.

As they touched noses, she said quietly, “Anata nashi de sora, watashi no ai.”

Just then, the front door of the little cottage burst open and a chill wind rushed through the room. In the midst of Springtime, snow swirled and obscured the threshold. The children screamed and bolted for the back room while the adult Bunnies sprang apart and fell into a battle formation. For a moment, there was naught but silence in the house apart from the small, quiet whimpers of the kits huddled together for safety.

In that deadly quiet, Mrs. Bunny swiftly slid her katana free of its scabbard set at her hip and Mr. Bunny produced a bladed boomerang from thin air. They waited, blocking the path to their kittens. There was the faintest jingle of a bell, the sound of a few long strides of footsteps crunching in the new snow, and then the door was filled with the billowing crimson of a thick fur cape being drawn rapidly from thin, elegant shoulders.

Mrs. Claws stepped through the door like a runway model. Like she owned the place. Her cape slipped from her long delicate fingers and magically floated over to land atop the hall tree. The snow continued to pile in behind her. She smiled suddenly and there was nothing welcoming or polite in that smile. From head to toe, from wicked smile to knee high boot, Mrs. Claws was cruelty personified. “Bunnies!” she exclaimed with mock warmth and sincerity, spreading her hands in dramatic greeting.

“What the hell do you want, Claws?” Mr. Bunny spat, not relaxing his stance.

Claws looked hurt and mock pouted. “Oh, poo, you beastly old thing. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“We aren't friends, winter witch.” Mrs. Bunny spoke in equally aggressive, if heavily accented, tones.

“Now, that is a shame, darlings,” Claws responded as she meandered about the entryway, pretending to take the place in. She glanced back over her shoulder, through the curtain of her fiery red hair, as she said it, that cruel smile firmly set back in place. The Bunnies tensed. “And here I've come bearing gifts.”

The front window exploded in a shower of glass and a hooked, cherry red ornament ball sailed through the now open space. Mr. Bunny saw it first and reacted without a moment's hesitation, sending his boomerang careening into the projectile. The two objects collided just at the level of the sill and the ornament exploded in a hellfire of red and green glitter. The first elfin commando through the window caught a lungful of the stuff and went down in a coughing heap. He leapt across the room and yanked two more through the window, smashing their skulls together, before the order was called for them to fall back.

Mrs. Bunny, for her part, never lost focus on Mrs. Claws and she sprang forward, her katana slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Claws, true to her name, rapidly grew her fine, delicate fingers into disturbing, sharpened claws and went to meet the blade. The katana bit into her flesh but the elongated, gnarled bones of her fingers caught the edge and held it. Blood spurted as the warrior hare slid her weapon free but she was too slow to block the other claw as it came up from underneath and sliced into her guts. Shock spread across her features as Mrs. Claws stepped in real close and whispered in her ear.

Mr. Bunny turned and saw his wife's predicament and screamed with unbridled rage. In his distraction, he didn't notice the elfin commandos outside line up and take shots at him with their small blowguns. The poisoned darts sank into his fur and flesh as he began to barrel back across the room. In his fear and anger, and in the throes of adrenaline, he did not even notice. Nevertheless, the poison took quick root in him and he was stumbling by the time he made it to within striking distance of the winter witch. She slapped him aside with her bloody claw as she dug the other one further into his wife. The katana slipped from Mrs. Bunny's grasp and it hit the floor about the same time he did.

Groggily, he strained to wrap his paw around the tsuka of the sword. As his paw fell upon it, Mrs. Claw's black boot fell upon him, crushing his bones beneath her heel. She laughed, a high pitched, grating sound, and let Mrs. Bunny slide from her grasp to the floor next to her husband. They lay together, their noses almost touching, tears and blood matting their facial fur. Mrs. Claws towered above them and cackled even harder.

Bunny lifted his head and gazed past his wife. “Run,” he told his precious children, “run fast.” But his vision was blurry and blood had seeped into his eyes so he couldn't see the ring of commandos that had surrounded the small drove.

“Oh,” Mrs. Claws stopped laughing maniacally with the suddenness of a true sociopath, “What's that? Run? Oh, dear, you really don't understand yet, do you?” The cruel amusement had not left her tone, however, and Bunny's eyes widened in realization.

“No, please!”

“No, please!” She mocked.

He beat his free fist into the floor in frustration, struggling beneath her unusual strength, before looking back up at her, hatred burning in his eyes. Just for a moment, her arrogant smile faltered in the heat of that enmity. “Why do this? It serves no purpose!”

And here the winter witch's true visage surfaced. Her beautiful features contorted in rage and disgust. “No purpose!?” she screamed at him and ground the bones in his paw. “No purpose? You stand in the way of all we are trying to achieve, you filthy little animal! We bring the gift of death across the breadth of the BrikVerse in the dead of winter and you wipe it all away with your curse of rebirth in the bloom of spring. We are the natural--”

Her diatribe was cut short as Mrs. Bunny suddenly sprang from her position on the floor, screaming in pain and anger, and pulling her wakisashi free as she struck in a blinding flash. Her short blade dug into Mrs. Claws classically perfect features and scored a deep, long cut that obliterated her left eye. Claws screamed and retreated from the blade but Mrs. Bunny had already broken away in the opposite direction. Her arm blurred in a flurry of motion and, in a matter of mere seconds, half a dozen dumbstruck commandos lay dead with shurikens buried in their brains. The mother hare reached her children and began to herd them.

“Oh, no, it's too late for that!” Mrs. Claws stretched out her hideously disfigured claw and poured forth a winter storm of epic proportions. The temperature in the small cottage plummeted as snow and ice gathered in her palm and sprayed out with all the force of a fire hose into the small back room. Mrs. Bunny put her back to the blast and sheltered her children from it but the effect was all enveloping. In short order, they were encased in a solid block of ice. The glacial tempest she had summoned died down slowly, the cacophony of it all fading out as the sound of Mr. Bunny weeping and screaming faded in. Frost crackled and settled, spreading along the walls and floors.

Mrs. Claws kicked the sword free and walked slowly over to examine her work. She waited until Bunny had screamed himself raw and was weeping silently. Only then did she turn and walk back over to him. “You see, you disgusting furfig vermin, I have devised the best possible punishment for you. The Spell of Winter holds sway here. You won't be resurrecting your family. Ever.” She smiled as she stepped over his prone and poisoned body and retrieved her cloak. “I may not be able to wipe your filth from existence but I can lock you away forever in the Sleep of Snows.” She began to laugh wildly as she stepped through the doorway and back out into the snow. As her footsteps and laughter faded, the single, faint jingle of a bell could be heard and then she was gone.

The Astarte Bunny lay broken on the floor of his once happy home, staring at his family forever frozen in stasis. Unconsciousness came in waves. And he wept.

November 23. R. 2,016.

Bunny shook free of his reverie and glanced around at the assembled Incarnations. As usual, Valentine had taken point again and had mapped out a plan of attack on the grand table they all sat and stood around. Most of them weren't even taking the meeting seriously. It had become just another reason to get together and guzzle Maniac Beer. Bunny could see that Valentine was growing impatient with the gathering. The only one who even seemed to be paying any attention was PatRock, the sly little leprechaun, who sat sipping and watching and smiling bemusedly.

Valentine was attempting to get everyone focused again but Bunny had had enough. So he said so. “Enough!”

The hall went silent. Most looked to him with surprise, not expecting him to participate. He rarely did. Pat looked at him expectantly, the smug bastard. Valentine gazed at him irritated, as usual. “This is absurd,” Bunny continued,”year after year, you idiots launch your little 'War on Manly Santa Day' and it never pans out. Did any of you, even for a moment, consider that that might be because it's predictable? Expected? Or because more than half of you are only on the bandwagon for the free booze?”

“I suppose you have a better plan,” Valentine quipped.

“Of course I do, you ponce.”

“How dare--”

“Oh, shut it, Cupid. I've watched for years as you develop these insipid, unimaginative variations on the same plan of attack. If you want the Claws to go down, you've got to get a little more creative about it.” The Bunny calmly strode around the table to come face to face with the purpling Valentine. The aristocratic Saint gripped his sword, still in its sheath, tightly.

“Try it.” Bunny said quietly, pitched low enough that only Valentine could hear. But PatRock saw and hid his smirk in his mug. Doubt flickered in the Saint's eyes. Raising his voice to the room, his eyes still locked on Valentine's, he declared, “I'm done. I've told you all before to strike when MFS was weak and worn out. To break the cycle. To win. You refuse. Either because you're stupid or because this is all just a joke to you. To BrikHell with the lot of you. I'm going to do this my way. No more playtime. I'm going to kill the Claws.”

With that, the Astarte Bunny turned and strode from the room, lightly fingering his wife's Katana, already in anticipation of the killing blow. The very one Manly Fuckin' Santa forged for her back in '78.

*Google Translate
"You really shouldn't encourage her, you know."
"Give your poor mother some room!"
"Empty without you, my love."

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Re: Astarte Said Than Done

Post by Kommander Ken » Mon Apr 17, 2017 9:13 am

Oh-hohohoooohh shiiieeet.

Fuckin' loving this series. :omnom:

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Re: Astarte Said Than Done

Post by Quantumsurfer » Mon Apr 17, 2017 8:22 pm

Thank you, I'm so glad. :D

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Re: Astarte Said Than Done

Post by Silverdream » Wed Apr 19, 2017 11:08 pm

Poor buns :(

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Re: Astarte Said Than Done

Post by Quantumsurfer » Wed Apr 19, 2017 11:31 pm

My wife told me this was the most horrible story ever. I sure hope she meant the content and not the writing.

Because I'd rather be a monster than a bad writer...I guess?

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