From the depths of the deepest mires within the Forsaken Lands of India there lay a small yellow chickling who had been separated from its family. Its tiny, sad, black eyes stared into the nigh lightless pits and it chirped pitifully, whimpering, its tiny wings fluttering uselessly, its body laid against the cold sandy stones of the Ineffable Prisoneror's lair. In the corner of the room several feet above the chickling—the tiny baby chicken—there was an equally tiny sputtering, flickering, dancing flame of a torch. The fire was just as yellow as the downy feathers of the chick. Just as yellow. As yellow “Yello is anyone home?” A strange voice called out. The chickling went silent, curling its wings and its head into itself, attempting to hide. The tiny flameling mirrored its actions, dimming considerably. The pit smelled of refuse and something acrid or burnt. “M'yhello?” A shaft of light suddenly thrust its way through the air of the dank prisoneror's cellar and struck the sandy-stoned ground. Smoke rose up upon contact. After a moment a silhouette blocked some of the light. The fire had extinguished, the chickling was now motionless as well as silent. The silhouette, clearly something's head, looked from side to side. “I knyohohow you're in there little buddy!” The jolly voice called out, two long protrusions drooping from the silhouette of its head. After more silence there was a sigh and then a ladder slammed against the sand-stone ground of the Prisoneror's dank pitcell. The figure clumsily made its way down the ladder before falling on the halfway point, somehow managing to flip and twirl repeatedly in the air, tearing some of its clothes in the process. “Yowch!” it cried as it hit the ground and then picked itself up by its britches, briefly floating, and then plopped itself onto its feet. The sound of a snap emanated through the massive cellpit and then there was light, many more torches being ignited at once. So was revealed the Ineffable Prisoneror. [hider][img]http://2static3.fjcdn.com/comments/6180427+_7c21689444374e871ebd6fc9b0ac63f8.jpg[/img][/hider] “Now little Chickling, yer gonna talk to ole Goofykins or I'm gonna take your wings like I did your legs.” The Chickling squeaked, terror emanating from its form, terror so thick that it had actually condensated into a vapor, which Goofykins, the ineffable Prisoneror, breathed in with a sigh of great pleasure. After a long moment the vapors began forming on the Ineffable Prisoneror's face, forming a the white goo depicted, thus dribbling down beneath its underbite, where it turned into globs and stayed—runny and whitiforously present upon his thine chinfaced visageo. “Now you listen here little Chickling, if you cooperate I'll give you your legs back, and maybe one of your lungs!” [b]*Squeak!*[/b] The Chickling replied. Fury came into the eyes of Goofykins the Ineffable Prisoneror , Ruler of the Forsaken Lands of India, Conqueror of all Disneylandia, The Great Walt Slayer of 19[u]66[/u], and of course, the Purveyor of Cartoonlindae's Wisdom: The Art of Cartoonistisia. Then he raised his hand and in that moment, a clown appeared and slammed a cream pie into the face of the Great Ineffable Prisoneror. The creature toppled backwards, its legs flying into the air, before reconnecting with its body as the Prisoneror fell on its ass. The Chickling's eyes widened and it frantically flapped its wings. The torch above it lit itself, and was lit, and then began to spread its yellow flames as the Chickling fanned its wings. The yellow fire covered the wall in second, and then the entire cell fell into complete darkness. After a moment for the Chick's eyes to adjust it found that the only light was from where the ladder had been lowered, and some of that light was being drowned in the terrifying presence of the all powerful master and founder of the Prisoneror. “Shucks, thanks for revealing your little secret, Chickling. Now I can kill ya, haha!” There was only jolliness in the Prisoneror's voice, but in that jolliness, behind the veil, within the mind, in all truth, where lies did not exist, where no man rested, where few men woke, there was a menacing darkness called THE VOID OF THE UNBEGOTTENING SOUL SOLE OF THE RECKONED ONE, and this belonged to the Prisoneror, to Goofykins, to the Great Walt Slater of '66, to the Conqueror of all Disneylandia, to the Ineffable Prisoneror and there was no escape. Fade to black. Black.[hr][hr][hr] Where you sit there is no friction. The forces of evil rise, and are gotten. [color=black][h3][sub][b][s] D [/s]ar[s]k H[/s]ors[color=9e0b0f][s] e [/s][/color][/b][/sub][/h3][/color], a lieutenant of the Dark Lord, has risen, and with him will come all manner of horrible unkidded ones. Beware reader. Beware.[hr][h2][b]Sporeumnia Forgoians[/b][/h2][hr]We retreat.[hr][center][b][h2][color=Black][s] [/s][/color]T[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]H[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]E I[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]N[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]F[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]E[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]R[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]N[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]A[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]L[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]C[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]H[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]I[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]L[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]D[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]B[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]E[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]I[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]N[color=Black][s] [/s][/color]G[color=Black][s] [/s][/color][/h2][/b][hr][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/42/b6/e0/42b6e089a1ddf71fe8133d9a390bcbba.jpg[/img][hr][/center] [center][h3][s][b]A-WOKE.[/b][/s][/h3][/center]