The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
The fox sneered as he told the story of an ancient mask, a very textbook description riddled with inaccuracies but interesting nonetheless. He explained that his father had found it, one day, scouring the woodland and picking off bones. Fox pushed forward the mask with his nose, the mask was nothing short of a skull of a ewe or a sheep or a goat, with traces or blood and vein. A very peculiar item indeed.
He told them it held unworldly powers unknown to the ignorance of man, a set of weasel were keen to ask what these powers were. The fox’s words struggled to become audible, but his words suggested some form of invincibility or lasting life, as the rabbits rendered their amazement definite. ‘What do you ewe want for this mask?’ one badger dared to question. The fox started ‘this mask, this mask of..’ the fox appeared possessed by the Gods, or perhaps struggling for words, as he eventually continued ‘this mask of Markopan is deserved of the wheatworm of the farmland, or the hat of the scarecrow that tortures my nights’.
The farmland lay not far from this set, but those interested were faced with a harsh stream of rushing waters and the hard machinery that the farmer was keen to steer. A small group of two or three rabbits were more than obliged to express their involvement, as was a badger and a group of weasels, suffice to say, this collection were the only ones captured by the fox’s tale.
They set off no more than half an hour ago through the undergrowth and shrubbery and weeds and stones. They met the river before they realised the badger had been eradicated by mechanical teeth, his mouth left bleeding as the observers expressed their hilarity at the lack off opposition. The weasels and rabbits (or hares) approached the downstream with caution, as the bones of rodents and a horse litter the riverbank.
One rabbit takes control, and jumps from A to B with no complication, the second rabbit looks to do with such ease as well, until he falls. His body battered and bruised by the rocks, before he eventually keels over and flies down the river, dead. The third rabbit takes the leap and makes it with inches to spare. The weasels jump in sync with each other, and land abruptly, unfortunately for one of them, the rabbits had sticks, and he couldn’t swim.
The other weasel runs for the scarecrow, as it is now in his view, but forgot to look to his side, as a combine harvester was more than content to absolutely destroy his tender flash and malleable bones. The rabbits take a minute out to relieve their intense laughter.
Two short barges into the scarecrow, and his hat comes loose. A further, and it’s theirs. They run back to the river, passing the weasels, laughing. One quick tease at the badger, as they tread on his face and they return to the fox.
The fox is pleased to see their safe return, as they hand over the hat. A beam of light strays from the mask, or skull, as the rabbits watch in awe. But dispute ensues, as both brothers are keen to be the holders of the mask, they end up biting and scraping in a flurry of fluff and crimson. One retires into a pool or blood, as the other fashions his mask.
Excited, the rabbit tests the masks’ invincibility and runs into a tree headstrong.
The skull shatters, as does the mask, as his brains wipe the floor clean of dust and debris, it was only a skull after all. The fox slightly maddened by the fact he would have find another sheep skull to get his next meal.
He told them it held unworldly powers unknown to the ignorance of man, a set of weasel were keen to ask what these powers were. The fox’s words struggled to become audible, but his words suggested some form of invincibility or lasting life, as the rabbits rendered their amazement definite. ‘What do you ewe want for this mask?’ one badger dared to question. The fox started ‘this mask, this mask of..’ the fox appeared possessed by the Gods, or perhaps struggling for words, as he eventually continued ‘this mask of Markopan is deserved of the wheatworm of the farmland, or the hat of the scarecrow that tortures my nights’.
The farmland lay not far from this set, but those interested were faced with a harsh stream of rushing waters and the hard machinery that the farmer was keen to steer. A small group of two or three rabbits were more than obliged to express their involvement, as was a badger and a group of weasels, suffice to say, this collection were the only ones captured by the fox’s tale.
They set off no more than half an hour ago through the undergrowth and shrubbery and weeds and stones. They met the river before they realised the badger had been eradicated by mechanical teeth, his mouth left bleeding as the observers expressed their hilarity at the lack off opposition. The weasels and rabbits (or hares) approached the downstream with caution, as the bones of rodents and a horse litter the riverbank.
One rabbit takes control, and jumps from A to B with no complication, the second rabbit looks to do with such ease as well, until he falls. His body battered and bruised by the rocks, before he eventually keels over and flies down the river, dead. The third rabbit takes the leap and makes it with inches to spare. The weasels jump in sync with each other, and land abruptly, unfortunately for one of them, the rabbits had sticks, and he couldn’t swim.
The other weasel runs for the scarecrow, as it is now in his view, but forgot to look to his side, as a combine harvester was more than content to absolutely destroy his tender flash and malleable bones. The rabbits take a minute out to relieve their intense laughter.
Two short barges into the scarecrow, and his hat comes loose. A further, and it’s theirs. They run back to the river, passing the weasels, laughing. One quick tease at the badger, as they tread on his face and they return to the fox.
The fox is pleased to see their safe return, as they hand over the hat. A beam of light strays from the mask, or skull, as the rabbits watch in awe. But dispute ensues, as both brothers are keen to be the holders of the mask, they end up biting and scraping in a flurry of fluff and crimson. One retires into a pool or blood, as the other fashions his mask.
Excited, the rabbit tests the masks’ invincibility and runs into a tree headstrong.
The skull shatters, as does the mask, as his brains wipe the floor clean of dust and debris, it was only a skull after all. The fox slightly maddened by the fact he would have find another sheep skull to get his next meal.
These kind words I thank.
Ah, the sylvan shenanigans of jim-hat. Praise be. With a scarecrow and plotting beasts this instantly becomes one of my favourites.
Heh, very good. Reminded me muchly of that programme, Farthing's Wood, was it?
Anyway, yes, very enjoyable and stringed me a long the entire way. The way that such stereotypically "cute" animals fought and drew blood was very surreal, but convincing.
Few minor errors, but nonetheless, a good entry (and your first, I believe).
Anyway, yes, very enjoyable and stringed me a long the entire way. The way that such stereotypically "cute" animals fought and drew blood was very surreal, but convincing.
Few minor errors, but nonetheless, a good entry (and your first, I believe).
The fox sneered as he told the story of an ancient mask, a very textbook description riddled with inaccuracies but interesting nonetheless. He explained that his father had found it, one day, scouring the woodland and picking off bones. Fox pushed forward the mask with his nose, the mask was nothing short of a skull of a ewe or a sheep or a goat, with traces or blood and vein. A very peculiar item indeed.
He told them it held unworldly powers unknown to the ignorance of man, a set of weasel were keen to ask what these powers were. The fox’s words struggled to become audible, but his words suggested some form of invincibility or lasting life, as the rabbits rendered their amazement definite. ‘What do you ewe want for this mask?’ one badger dared to question. The fox started ‘this mask, this mask of..’ the fox appeared possessed by the Gods, or perhaps struggling for words, as he eventually continued ‘this mask of Markopan is deserved of the wheatworm of the farmland, or the hat of the scarecrow that tortures my nights’.
The farmland lay not far from this set, but those interested were faced with a harsh stream of rushing waters and the hard machinery that the farmer was keen to steer. A small group of two or three rabbits were more than obliged to express their involvement, as was a badger and a group of weasels, suffice to say, this collection were the only ones captured by the fox’s tale.
They set off no more than half an hour ago through the undergrowth and shrubbery and weeds and stones. They met the river before they realised the badger had been eradicated by mechanical teeth, his mouth left bleeding as the observers expressed their hilarity at the lack off opposition. The weasels and rabbits (or hares) approached the downstream with caution, as the bones of rodents and a horse litter the riverbank.
One rabbit takes control, and jumps from A to B with no complication, the second rabbit looks to do with such ease as well, until he falls. His body battered and bruised by the rocks, before he eventually keels over and flies down the river, dead. The third rabbit takes the leap and makes it with inches to spare. The weasels jump in sync with each other, and land abruptly, unfortunately for one of them, the rabbits had sticks, and he couldn’t swim.
The other weasel runs for the scarecrow, as it is now in his view, but forgot to look to his side, as a combine harvester was more than content to absolutely destroy his tender flash and malleable bones. The rabbits take a minute out to relieve their intense laughter.
Two short barges into the scarecrow, and his hat comes loose. A further, and it’s theirs. They run back to the river, passing the weasels, laughing. One quick tease at the badger, as they tread on his face and they return to the fox.
The fox is pleased to see their safe return, as they hand over the hat. A beam of light strays from the mask, or skull, as the rabbits watch in awe. But dispute ensues, as both brothers are keen to be the holders of the mask, they end up biting and scraping in a flurry of fluff and crimson. One retires into a pool or blood, as the other fashions his mask.
Excited, the rabbit tests the masks’ invincibility and runs into a tree headstrong.
The skull shatters, as does the mask, as his brains wipe the floor clean of dust and debris, it was only a skull after all. The fox slightly maddened by the fact he would have find another sheep skull to get his next meal.
He told them it held unworldly powers unknown to the ignorance of man, a set of weasel were keen to ask what these powers were. The fox’s words struggled to become audible, but his words suggested some form of invincibility or lasting life, as the rabbits rendered their amazement definite. ‘What do you ewe want for this mask?’ one badger dared to question. The fox started ‘this mask, this mask of..’ the fox appeared possessed by the Gods, or perhaps struggling for words, as he eventually continued ‘this mask of Markopan is deserved of the wheatworm of the farmland, or the hat of the scarecrow that tortures my nights’.
The farmland lay not far from this set, but those interested were faced with a harsh stream of rushing waters and the hard machinery that the farmer was keen to steer. A small group of two or three rabbits were more than obliged to express their involvement, as was a badger and a group of weasels, suffice to say, this collection were the only ones captured by the fox’s tale.
They set off no more than half an hour ago through the undergrowth and shrubbery and weeds and stones. They met the river before they realised the badger had been eradicated by mechanical teeth, his mouth left bleeding as the observers expressed their hilarity at the lack off opposition. The weasels and rabbits (or hares) approached the downstream with caution, as the bones of rodents and a horse litter the riverbank.
One rabbit takes control, and jumps from A to B with no complication, the second rabbit looks to do with such ease as well, until he falls. His body battered and bruised by the rocks, before he eventually keels over and flies down the river, dead. The third rabbit takes the leap and makes it with inches to spare. The weasels jump in sync with each other, and land abruptly, unfortunately for one of them, the rabbits had sticks, and he couldn’t swim.
The other weasel runs for the scarecrow, as it is now in his view, but forgot to look to his side, as a combine harvester was more than content to absolutely destroy his tender flash and malleable bones. The rabbits take a minute out to relieve their intense laughter.
Two short barges into the scarecrow, and his hat comes loose. A further, and it’s theirs. They run back to the river, passing the weasels, laughing. One quick tease at the badger, as they tread on his face and they return to the fox.
The fox is pleased to see their safe return, as they hand over the hat. A beam of light strays from the mask, or skull, as the rabbits watch in awe. But dispute ensues, as both brothers are keen to be the holders of the mask, they end up biting and scraping in a flurry of fluff and crimson. One retires into a pool or blood, as the other fashions his mask.
Excited, the rabbit tests the masks’ invincibility and runs into a tree headstrong.
The skull shatters, as does the mask, as his brains wipe the floor clean of dust and debris, it was only a skull after all. The fox slightly maddened by the fact he would have find another sheep skull to get his next meal.