Zub: The Adventures of Stuff is the story of a misfortunate boy named Zub, who was given that name for no particular reason. He is set out with the impossible task of defeating Them, even though no one seems to know what They are. He is also tasked to save and protect the world indirectly, which is really quite the bother as it probably isn't even a very good world to begin with. Along the way he meets a variety of cast, being friend or foe, who interact with him and blah blah blah blah blah.
You get it, right? If no, stop wasting your time here and read the story.
Chapter 0: Prologue, and some stuff consequently happens
Zub looked in horror at what he had done.
He had killed their hero.
Well, to be perfectly fair, it had started innocently enough. That hardly justified murdering viciously, though however unintentionally, their one and only hope for their kind.
The way he looked at it, Zub was pretty much screwed.
“You just decide to go flying out of lump knows where, and you decide to lumpin’ crash into our lumpin’ hero?!” cried out his father in anger beyond that of which even a Voltorb could perform when it finds out its spouse has been cheating on it for a Magnemite and left the casserole in the oven for too long while doing so.
He could only give a sheepish smile and rub his neck endearingly.
Not everyone was this mad; they just sat there in shocked silence and stared at him. A few died of heart attacks, or so he though. It was hard to tell.
And still he said nothing.
As a young child he was diagnosed with asthma, cancer, leukemia, and death, making his life expectancy about three minutes. And yet he survived. He was then diagnosed with Clichedprotaganitis, which not only made him follow a series of prefabricated clichés but also made him inexplicably mute.
He was not a happy fellow. Not that anyone could tell, of course.
“What have yee…. person got too say fer yerself!” cried out the village elder, Montgomery Montgomery Montgomery III, an interestingly matching name. “You killed Galidor!”
Zub made a helpless expression towards the now-empty trebuchet he had been in moments early. It was promptly ignored, not to anyone’s surprise.
“Those… uh, things gonna be killing us!” cried the elder. “Unless you’re like… uh, Stink, or whatever he's called, where you’re both mute AND useful to the kingdom!”
Zub merely stared blankly, clearly not understanding the reference at all, much to the Elder’s sheer disappointment.
“Ehh…. Anyone got any ideas for his punishment? It should be something… truly redundant!”
“That word…” piped up another elder. “I don’t believe it means what you believe it means.”
“Soggy applesauce,” replied Montgomery Montgomery Montgomery III, waving the statement off. “Anyone?”
“oo! Oo!” cried someone in the far back row. “We could give him a suicide adventure! An adventure in suicide!” When the entire crowd shifted uneasily to gawk at him, he couldn’t respond. To his mixed pleasure, the elder took over.
“Excellent ideer, young ‘un! We will send him in Galidor’s place with his own Pokemon! And, well, if he dies along the way,” he said, producing a fake tear behind his mask of joy. “So be it! We will fight off Them ourselves!”
The crowd reached a joyous proclamation not incomparable to when someone discovers they’re not dead when they really should be, or when you find a right sock in a sea of left socks. The intense mutterings and idea-barings did not bode well for our hero, who was not entirely comfortable with the thought of fighting Them.
“What about a companion?!” cried out a random villager whose relevance to the story was debatable. “Should he not go alone? That is too clichéd!” he shouted.
“What about Debbie?” asked another.
“Eh… no. He ran off proclaiming that the very prospect of leaving filled his heart with rainbows.”
“Anyone else available?”
“What about no companion!” cried the elder, who had had enough. "If he truly wants one, he’ll get it. For now, he has his sole Pokemon. Is everyone clear?!” yelled the elder to a mixed garble of “yes”es.
“Good. Then I believe you best be on your way, Zub. Be ready as early as tomorrow,” he said, eyes gleaming with wicked contempt. “They are waiting for you. They are prepared. So kill Them,” he said, a huge toothy grin climbing over his face. “Or They kill you.”
Spoiler:- Author's Comment:
After turning to an area I didn't want to go in my last fic, I tried writing a new one some months later, and you're looking at the result. It has a more freeform style and an undefined plotline, allowing more freedom on my part and hopefully more enjoyment on yours. Enjoy!
Last edited by Zibdas; 2nd November 2012 at 6:51 AM.