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ashleyfableblack · 1 year ago

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With a gust of green flame Queen Chrysalis Sparkle appeared in the disaster-zone that was the West Tower royal laboratory of her wife. "Twilight? I-"

"Honeybug! Thank you for coming home early."

A wide-eyed Queen Twilight cautiously prodded at the hissing spider with a pair of tongs. It lunged and snapped at them with its chelicerae. It backed away from her, it's forelimbs raised in a threatening pose. As it sideled sideways, looking for an opening in Twilight's defenses she maneuvered the tongs like a shield.

A concerned Chrysalis regarded the scene with a raised eyebrow. "That is a Green Widow."

Twilight continued her defensive dance with the irate arachnid. "Correct!"

Chrysalis looked from the hissing creature to Twilight and back. "And why is it here in your laboratory with it's acidic spittle and venomous bite which could even kill an alicorn, like my wife?" Her horn crackled with a whisp of green flame. She drew close to her pony wife, ready to interpose herself.

"I know you're concerned, honeybug." Twilight quickly attempted to reassure her. "I'm fine- WOOP!" She ducked as a thin spray of grey mist shot past her shoulder. It's impact left a smoking buckshot pattern on the nearby bookshelf.

Chrysalis pursed her lips, her fangs scraping against the chitin in worry. "I see." In a gust of green changeling flames she created an invisible shield around Twilight.

"The potency of the green widow's venom is legendary and it's precisely why this one is here. Green widow bites in the Whitetail woods are rare but they have a very high mortality rate. I need to retrieve a sample of its venom to continue our local hospital's research into developing a viable antivenom. This little fellow was volunteered by our local wildlife wranglers for the process. Normally Fluttershy would be handling this but she's come down with the ponypox."

The spider kicked a few of the broken tongue depressors out of its way. With an angry chomp it hefted up the tattered remains of a plush doll, made to resemble the buttercream pegasus and flung it at Twilight. "I'm afraid this little fellah is not in any mood to cooperate."

"Why do you have a little plushie of her?"

"Discord left it here after our last tea-time." She traded knowing eyes with her wife and shrugged. "I didn't ask. Anyways, I was hoping you could help with this moody little guy, with your people's knowledge of the creatures of the deep woods, I theorized you might have an insight to its behavior or at least be able to hypnotize it momentarily."

Chrysalis chuckled. "I'm so glad you had the good sense to ask for my help." She kissed her wife's horn and gave it a playful nip with her fangs. "But mesmerizing it with my enchanting gaze won't be necessary, beloved."

Chrysalis turned to the spider and made a series of clicks and whispered hisses. The furious arachnid set down the beaker it had hefted overhead, prepared to hurl at Twilight. The two hissed and spat back and forth for a moment as Twilight watched in wide-eyed surprise. They were communicating. She was still learning just how helpful it was to have a wife who had literally been almost every species of creature in the world.

"You speak its language?" Her brow furrowed. "It has a language?"

The creature angrily stomped it's forelimbs as Chrysalis nodded. Occasionally it pointed at Twilight and made a particularly disgusted sound, slapping its pedipalps together.

Chrysalis sighed. "Yes. Of a sort. Most sapient beings do." There was a slight tinge of irritation to her words.

"Chrysalis!" Twilight used her magic to retrieve a pencil and note tablet from a nearby desk, excited to record this new knowledge. "This is incredible! Equestrian science knows so little about the green widow!" She hadn't even considered this discovery. "Ooooo! What did it say?"

"Well, for starters, Her name is Miss Mugglywumpus. She does not appreciate being snatched from her burrow and she is very offended by your eyelashes."

Twilight blinked. "My… eyelashes?" The spider hissed and reared up again.

"Yes." Chrysalis looked back to the angry spider. "You've been fluttering them at her in a very rude threat display."

Twilight lifted a tiny mirror to examine herself, suddenly very self-conscious. Normally she was very proud of the inky black cilia which framed her almond-shaped violet eyes. Chrysalis often complimented her on their "come-hither" quality. She supposed they might resemble antennae or some other form of limb to the right perspective.

Her changeling wife continued. "Not only that but your aggressive blinking has been signaling very crass remarks about her hygiene, the size of her abdomen and capacity to spawn a respectably-sized brood."

"I WHAT?!"

Chrysalis motioned to the creature with her serpentine eyes. It glared up at Twilight with all 8 of its crimson peepers. Fangs glistening, forelimbs folded across it's thorax. If there was any expression in a spider's body-language which might indicate it had been the recipient of a potent yo-mama slam, this looked to be about right.

Twilight gave a dejected sigh as Chrysalis placed a consoling hoof across her withers.

She had expected today to be quite eventful. However, as Rainbow Dash might say, she did not have 'sparking a first-contact disaster with her face' on her bingo card today.

#my art #my story #traditional art #mlp au #mlp g4 #my little pony #lesbian #twisalis #twilight sparkle #queen chrysalis #love #lgbtq #science #scientist #wildlife management #eternal courtship #ashleyfableblack

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newprophecy-redux · 5 years ago

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Chapter Three

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“Hey, is Barknose mad at you or something?” A voice asked from somewhere behind him, making Crowpaw startle and turn around quickly on his paws. Who --? Oh. It was just Nightpaw. The young she-cat gave an apologetic look, gesturing again to the medicine cat, who was looking busy enough with sorting herbs outside of his den.

But the black-gray tom didn’t miss how often he was stopping to blatantly watch him. The half-grown cat wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know, but he won’t quit staring. It’s starting to get on my nerves…” Crowpaw hissed slightly in growing exasperation. If he had something to say to him, he needed to hurry up and spit it out already!

They haven’t hardly ever exchanged two words with eachother, so honestly, Crowpaw had no idea why he was suddenly the center of his attention.

Unless…

Oh, no! “W-Wait, do you think Moleclaw said something?!” His mentor was the new deputy, another senior warrior chosen after Deadfoot died in the battle of Lionclan versus Bloodclan. And shortly after, Ashfoot was surprised to find that she was left with one last parting gift from her brave, foolish, loving mate.

Ashfoot still told her son stories of a father he’d never meet, and of the kits they had lost from their first litter.

Crowpaw knew how the clan looked at him. What was almost certainly destined of him coming from such a legendary warrior’s blood. He could only hope that someday he could rise up to meet their expectations.

“Hm. I don’t think so. I mean, we’ve all been keeping up with caring for the elders, and you haven’t had your assessment yet, so.” Nightpaw shrugged slightly. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s just been worried over Magpiestar, I bet.”

“Hm…” Again, Crowpaw’s brows knit in thought. That was another thing. He was the oldest apprentice by several moons -- He should’ve had his final assessment by now. He should be a warrior by now! But things were tense here on the moor. The stifling heat of greenleaf had been unforgiving, and their usual water sources were beginning to suffer. Before long, the prey would too, and well...They could only hope that there would be a break in the weather soon. Magpiestar wasn’t getting any younger, and he seemed to be getting the worst of it recently.

The hot breeze over their territory brought little comfort, but the thin, sleek pelts of the Windclan cats offered some small relief. The season couldn’t last forever, and at least things would never get as bad now as it always did in leafbare.

“Crowpaw! If you’re done chatting with your denmate here,” Speaking of, Moleclaw came stalking up to the pair of apprentices, coming their way from Magpiestar’s den. Crowpaw didn’t even flinch, used to the deputy’s harsh tone when training and speaking with him. But Nightpaw winced, crouching slightly in submission when he approached.

“Get ready, both of you. Magpiestar, Barknose and I talked it over, and the two of you and Harepaw are going to the Gathering tonight.” For once, there was a small glimmer of pride and amusement in his sharp eyes. “We’ll leave at sundown, so I’d get some rest if I were you.”

Crowpaw blinked, eyes wide in surprise at the news. Sure, he’d been to a Gathering, but only once before. But Nighpaw? Not at all, if he remembered right. Moleclaw must be in a fair mood after all if he put in a good word with the leader.

“R-Really? Wow, that’s great! Th-Thanks, Moleclaw!” Nightpaw piped up, standing to turn and go tell the news to the third of their little trio, but caught herself at the last moment, stopping to turn back around and duck her head respectfully before dashing off.

Moleclaw only grunted, back to his usual, stoic self, fixing his gaze on his apprentice. “You too, Crowpaw. Go on, I don’t want you lagging behind tonight.” He ordered, walking away to join Barknose on the other side of camp.

Perhaps Nighpaw was right. Maybe he was being paranoid about the whole thing. After all, when your mentor is the deputy and his brother is the medicine cat, it might be expected that you would attract a bit more attention than usual.

But Crowpaw could still feel their eyes following him all the way to the apprentices den.

After sharing a small mouse of a snack with Nightpaw, and meeting up with Harepaw to give him the good news, the trio of apprentices made their way back to their nests, clawing them back together nice and neatly from their sleeping the night before. With Crowpaw being the only survivor of his litter, and Nightpaw and Harepaw being littermates, the three of them liked to have something like a large moss nest to share between the three of them for the cool nights underground on the moor.

It wasn’t unusual to find them in a tangle of black fur, tails and limbs when someone came to wake them. It was apparent that they would all three make a great team of warriors when they finally earned their names. Ashfoot was the one to find them and rouse them awake a few hours later, nosing their cheeks and pushing her nose into their flanks. “It’s time, young ones. Magpiestar just called a meeting to name the cats that are going to the Gathering.”

Crowpaw cracked open a sleepy blue eye, turning all the way over to face his mother, sitting up with a huge, wide-splitting yawn. “Alright, alright...We’re coming.” It took some time to finally wake up Harepaw, but eventually the four of them made their way to the clearing in the center of camp.

Magpiestar, an aged black and white tom with a few old battlescars littering his pelt, sat on a large, fallen tree stump. Probably one of the last from moons, even years past before the rolling pastures of their territory became what they are today. Moleclaw was at his side, and Barknose sat just below them, to the left.

“The moon is nearly high. It’s time to name the cats that will be going to the gathering tonight.” To no one’s surprise, Moleclaw was the one to address them yet again. Crowpaw squinted, taking in the slightly hunched form of their elderly leader. His voice just wasn’t strong enough to project like it used to, apparently…

“Myself, Barknose, Whitetail. Ferretwhisker and Tornear. Emberfoot, Morningflower.” He paused, letting the names ring out and hang in the air. There was a nervous excitement, though the three of them already knew what was coming. “Crowpaw, Nightpaw, and Harepaw. That is all. Everyone else is expected to stay behind and protect the camp, as usual.”

Crowpaw’s brows raised, turning to face Ashfoot, who was sitting somewhere behind them. “You’re not going tonight?” He asked his mother.

She smiled, giving a gentle shrug and a shake of the head. “I suppose not, my little panther. But that’s alright, I’m probably needed here more anyway.” She had to agree with Moleclaw’s choices. “Those fuddy-duddy gatherings are usually all the same bickering anyhow.” The she-cat laughed lightly.

Duskfur, so far the only queen in the nursery, poked her head out. She wasn’t due any time soon, but she was still far enough along that it just wouldn’t be in her best interest to leave the camp. “Safe travels, everyone! Let us know how things are going across the border.” She smiled, and Moleclaw nodded shortly.

Magpiestar took a deep breath, finally standing and taking a single pawstep forward. “Remember, though this is a night of peace, the other clan cats are still our rivals. Mind your tongues, and keep your ears pricked. Just because we hold our secrets close to our claws doesn’t mean that their own warriors will.”

He met Crowpaw’s gaze, a glimmer of amusement, and wisdom that only comes with his age, and the young black tom felt a slight rush down his spine. What -- What did that mean?

Left feeling lost by such a cryptic sort of look from Windclan’s leader, Crowpaw didn’t have much time to dwell on it, and they were on the move, following behind the deputy. It was odd to think, seeing Magpiestar just behind Moleclaw and beside Barknose instead of the other way around, but it was no secret. His time was coming sooner or later, and he was beginning to leave the trust of the clan, and the lives of his cats, in Moleclaw’s paws.

Time seemed to slow down, and yet move as fast as the clouds at the same time, the small group of cats making their way down from their home on the moor and into the unfamiliar territory of the trees. Thunderclan and Shadowclan scent immediately invaded their nostrils. This was their home. Did Riverclan feel out of place like this, too?

Heads and ears down, the three apprentices were almost in a perfect row behind one another, taking in the small comfort of eachother’s scents. “We’re almost there, I think.” Nightpaw piped up from behind him.

He nodded, but didn’t otherwise answer, crouching in the bushes while the warriors took up the front, waiting for the signal.

Moleclaw and Magpiestar stood together, ears pricked and slightly outlined in the moonlight.

He couldn’t really see beyond them from his position, but by the soft chatter and meows in the distance, some cats were already there. He couldn’t get a good sniff on the wind, either. Too many scents were mingled together overtime. Maybe Riverclan and Thunderclan? He tried to picture it in his minds eye -- The other apprentices, the elders sitting and sharing stories. Firestar, Blackstar and Leopardstar. Who else would be there tonight? There was only one way to find out.

Wait for it...

And finally, the deputy and leader shared a single look, and flicked their tails in near perfect unison. That was the signal.

The Windclan cats descended together, a single front of unity, and Crowpaw’s heart thrummed with excitement. He would never get used to the complete rush, the feeling of belonging, and the strength that came from his clan.

Sure, they’ve had their hardships in the past, but Windclan never backed down. They always came back stronger than before, no matter what the other clans thought. ‘Windclan’s the best!’ He thought to himself with pride, half wondering to himself which star was his father, and if he was watching him tonight.

Breaking through the underbrush, he had to swallow a nervous lump to compose himself. It’s no different than any other full moon, and yet, already, there was a sort of tension in the air. An oppressive heat, like a storm was finally about to break, though at the moment there were no clouds in the sky.

Moleclaw almost immediately broke away from the group, heading for his spot at the base of the great rock. He was a fairly popular, and obviously respected warrior, but at the same time he didn’t go out of his way to speak to others.

Magpiestar went the other way as well, sharing a few passing words with...Crowpaw squinted to get a better look. Mistfoot and her son, Reedwhisker from Riverclan. That didn’t come as much of a surprise. He never did get to meet Crookedstar, one of Magpiestar’s fellow leaders, but Mistfoot was one of his best warriors, and he remembered that after her brother Stonefur died, she took his place as deputy.

Barknose tapped his flank with his tail. “You heard what Magpiestar said. Go, mingle. I don’t think Thunderclan is here yet, so we won’t start without them.” That was kind of a surprise, normally Firestar was pretty punctual, but it didn’t matter to him.

Crowpaw shrugged, brows raised, half-expecting him to say more, but Barknose just gave him a pointed look and turned away, going to join Mudfur and his apprentice Mothwing, under their usual tree.

WHY was everyone being so weird tonight?!

He rolled his eyes with a snort, looking around to find Harepaw and Nightpaw. They already found some of Shadowclan and Riverclan’s apprentices, Dapplepaw, Minnowpaw, Ratpaw and Snowpaw. His nose crinkled slightly. Blackstar’s kits. Just as his father had a reputation, so did theirs. Hopefully his legacy could be broken and changed with these two.

Exhaling sharply to reign in his attitude, he finally wandered over to join them, Dapplepaw and Minnowpaw in the middle of a story about some patrol with their mentors, while Snowpaw and Nightpaw were laughing loudly.

“No no, and then, and then --!!” Minnowpaw gasped for breath inbewteen her giggles.

“Are you serious? No way!” Snowpaw goaded them on, her pristine, fluffy fur shining. For living in the swamps, she sure kept herself nice and clean.

He cleared his throat to be noticed, and Nightpaw turned to him with a grin. “Hey, Crowpaw! C’mere, you gotta hear this.” She waved him over, tapping the ground beside her with her tail.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable all over again, but at the same time not wanting to be left out, he sat and let himself partially tune them out, staring vaguely down at all of their paws. Moments later, an ear twisted around when someone finally yowled over the noise, “Thunderclan is here!”

All heads turned, and sure enough, the great ginger tom, the hero of Lionclan, with his deputy Graystripe, his mate Sandstorm, and their medicine cat Ashfur broke through the treeline, a few apprentices and other warriors alike behind them.

“It’s about time…” He muttered under his breath, nudging Nightpaw to move them back closer to their own clan. Every cat did the same, breaking apart, and preparing for the gathering to start.

Firestar immediately rushed forward, powerful hindlegs bunched in a crouch, leaping up effortlessly alongside his other leaders. Blackstar, the largest of them, nodded slightly, while Magpiestar offered a small smile and Leopardstar remained silent. Graystripe too joined Moleclaw, and then came Mistfoot and Russetfur, making themselves comfortable.

Ashfur found his fellow medicine cats, and Leopardstar threw back her head with a screech. “It is time to begin the Gathering!” She announced to the throng of cats.

Blackstar nodded, standing on his large, many-toed paws. “Shadowclan will begin.” Leopardstar nodded and returned to her place. “The prey has been running well. Our nursery is filling with healthy kits, and tonight we welcome a newly named warrior, Rowanclaw.” He started, chest swelled with pride.

Rowan...Claw? Crowpaw stood up taller on his toes to see over the crowd, noticing a dark, young cat being pushed around and congratulated by his fellow clanmates.

“Rowanclaw, Rowanclaw!” The whole clearing of cats cheered and echoed the name, as did Crowpaw a few times.

He continued on about the rat problem at Carrionplace, as usual. The problem was being maintained and monitored, but there didn’t seem to be anything of more importance to be announced.

Firestar nodded, and was the next to speak. “Thunderclan is doing well to say the least. We also have a new warrior joining our ranks -- Despite her injury a few moons ago, Sorrelpaw has completed her training and will from now on be known as Sorreltail.”

He recognized that name. One of her legs had been badly injured some time back in some kind of freak hunting accident, but he couldn’t remember the details exactly. Her brothers, Sootfur and Rainwhisker, had earned their names, but she had to be held back until she was fully healed.

Again, he thought back to his own warrior ceremony. Why was Magpiestar putting it off? Did he not think he was ready?

“Sorreltail, Sorreltail!” His thoughts were drowned out by the cheers, but he did not join in this time.

“And, and --” Firestar had to speak up to get the crowd to settle down this time, his normally peaceful demeanor shifting. “I’m sure you all remember the report of Frostfur being killed by a badger, as well.” The atmosphere shifted, Leopardstar, Magpiestar, and Blackstar all three turning to look at him.

“What? Don’t tell me another cats been killed?” Leopardstar spoke, already bristling slightly.

“No, not this time, thank Starclan.” He reported, shaking his head. “But my patrol did find another, at our shared border, Leopardstar.” Firestar explained.

“Yes, Feathertail told me and Mistfoot that her patrol smelled blood there, but didn’t find hide or hair of the badger, or any of your cats.” She trailed off, clearly wanting him to explain.

Yet again immediately distracted with putting a face to a name, Crowpaw watched Graystripe puff out his chest, looking off to the side at a pair of large, well-build Riverclan cats. His eyes followed along to see a dark, slate gray tom, and a...Silver...Tabby….

She must be Feathertail.

Nightpaw hissed slightly, grunting loudly, and elbowing him sharply in the side. “Hey, pick your muzzle up off the floor! Sheesh!” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Crowpaw couldn’t even muster up a witty reply, shuffling back and forth on his paws.

“My cats managed to fend it off with just some bumps and bruises, but. We’re not sure where it went. Obviously it didn’t venture into any of the other territories otherwise we’d be having...Issues.” Firestar finished.

“Mm…” Leopardstar’s golden eyes narrowed, her spotted pelt rippling in the slight breeze. “We’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it.”

Blackstar grunted, “As will Shadowclan.”

Magpiestar finally spoke. “Is that all, Firestar?” He asked first, and the ginger tom gave a nod, bowing his head and stepping back. It was clear he had a heavy respect for the old Windclan leader, and compared to the others, that made Firestar alright in Crowpaw’s head.

Everyone else as well immediately quieted down, despite being ruffled by the news of yet another rogue badger so soon after the last attack. Hopefully it was just gone by this point, but only time would tell.

“Windclan is...Already feeling the effects of a harsh Greenleaf.” Magpiestar began, voice somewhat quiet compared to the others, but firm. “The prey is becoming harder and harder to find each day, and with kits on the way, food is a precious resource that we can’t afford to lose.”

Moleclaw’s tail visibly twitched, eyes closed.

“The stream that runs through Windclan territory is starting to dry up. Ashfoot reported it five sunrises ago.” There it was, yet another collective gasp of surprise and quiet chatter. Magpiestar turned to Leopardstar.

“I ask that you allow Windclan to cross into your territory to drink from the river.”

#chapter three #new prophecy redux #firestar #brambleclaw #tawnypelt #warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #warriors rewrite #FINALLY #i get to MOVE ON omg idk why this gave me so much trouble???

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radiojamming · 7 years ago

Note

Au where Rook was a pro wrestler before being a sheriff and just fuckin. Piledrives Jacob from up in a tree

randy savage’s ghost: you got three seconds to get outta here before i break out the atomic elbow, brotha!

- - -

Before Hope County lapsed into cult-inspired madness, before Rook joined the Hope County Sheriff’s Department, and even before Joseph Seed ever looked at a map of Montana sideways, Rook had a very different occupation.

Most of it is hidden away now, tucked in dusty old corners of the internet and shoeboxes in closets back at Rook’s apartment. Once in awhile, someone might invoke the legendary elbow drop from that sweltering summer of 1998, or they might even gaze in quiet awe at the now famous photograph of what had been the newly-minted Kalispell Suplex that sent Tommy “Thunderbrows” Tonnere crying to his mama. But Rook’s left most of that behind, retiring the sequined skin-tight shorts and the bedazzled boots. No one in Hope County recognizes them, even though in another life, they were as much of a Montana legend as Clutch Nixon.

Rook thought they would have a nice quiet retirement, but Eden’s Gate apparently had another idea.

Especially Jacob Seed. Rook’s not one to brag (at least, not anymore, although some ancient soundbites might beg to differ) but they’ve taken down people Jacob’s size and larger. The first time they even see Jacob outside of the arrest, they damn near have a flashback to the Rumble in the Rockies event of 1996, when Eric “Blood-Axe” Andersen and all of his day-glo and glittery Viking regalia taunted them while stroking his massive red beard.

That had lasted for about one round before he got a face full of elbow and lost a molar.

It’s a fond memory, and it makes Rook wonder about Jacob. The man’s built like a bulldozer, easily pushing six feet and some change. He’s got a theme (back in Rook’s day, he would have probably been wearing camo-printed pleather; kids these days don’t know about style) and he even has an entrance song. He postures like a damn peacock, even if he doesn’t know it. If he wasn’t a wrestler, Rook sure as shit thinks he would have made a damn good one.

But regardless of what might be a shared history, Jacob Seed is still a plague on the Whitetails, and seems to have scented Rook like a bloodhound. The whole theme of their relationship is a game of catch-and-release. One minute, Rook’s sauntering through the woods, picking flowers and humming showtunes, and the next, they’re locked up a cage (not even the fun kind), listening to Jacob wheeze on about culling herds and Rook’s status being slightly above salami. And so far, Rook hasn’t fought against this much, which desperately needs to change.

And it finally does on one sweltering afternoon, after Jacob’s crooned at them over the radio, and a bunch of cultists in red balaclavas are taking their heat exhaustion out on anything vaguely Rook-shaped. By that point, Rook’s taken to hiding up in tree stands, listening for religious hollering and fondly thinking back on the days when they weren’t battling a paramilitary force that hasn’t just imbibed the Kool-Aid, but is standing up to their elbows in it.

Then they hear someone whistling ‘Only You’ somewhere below them, and Rook knows what they have to do.

It has to be a rare occurrence that Jacob’s left his fortress, since Rook’s just summed him up to sitting behind a microphone and prattling on about Darwinian theory while watching people and wolves chew on each other for fun. As far as engaging people directly, the evidence is scanty. But there he is, stepping through brush and piles of decaying leaves, whistling like a lark with his stupidly huge rifle over his shoulder.

Suddenly, Rook’s inner monologue does a swift somersault back to those glorious days of the late ‘90s, under spotlights and in cage matches that would put Jacob’s little dog shelter to shame. In the back of their head, they hear the announcer’s voice (and it sounds like Danny Dismal, who got a closed head injury in ‘86 and spent the better part of his retirement introducing wrestlers through a broken jaw that never healed quite right).

The Deputy’s been in retirement since fall of 1999, but I’m real eager to see how they make a comeback! says the almost-voice of of Danny. The Whitetail Deathmatch is about as raw as competition gets. The Soldier’s got plenty of wins under his belt, and he’s lookin’ to cull the herd out here.

Rook sets their rifle aside on the steel grating of the tree stand. Slowly, quietly, they remove their jacket, until they’re down to a tanktop and the glorious muscles that brought them title after title.

Now this move is real extreme. I can’t stress that enough to our viewers and our audience. Not since the immortal Macho Man Randy Savage has anything like this been attempted. This is a ten foot elbow drop, and I don’t have to explain how extreme this is.

Rook pats their elbow experimentally, and then walks up to the edge of the stand, waiting for the perfect moment.

This move should only be attempted by professionals, intones almost-Danny.

Rook gives a high whistle to alert Jacob, just enough to get him to pause and look up, and then they give the battle cry that the wrestling faithful of Montana have never forgotten.

God dayum! There it is, folks! The Deputy calls that the Whitetail Elbow, and seeing it performed in real time, right here in the great backwoods is a miracle in motion! I don’t think the Soldier is getting up from that one any time soon.

Rook leaves Jacob Seed dazed, wheezing, and most definitely bruised on the forest floor, and thinks that for a reintroduction after retirement, it’s not too bad.

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #junior deputy #prompt fill #this was so fun lmao

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