[Writing] Together we write a short story party. (Sign up now!)

Twwassp!
Dr. Storylove or How I learned to have a story writing party.

What?
This is how it works.
People sign up, and each person will write a little bit of a story.
The first person will decide the setting and theme for the story, they will write their part.
Once they have finished they post it here, and the next person writes their part.

Things to keep in mind

• Please don't try to sabotage the story
• Please be kind. Critiques and criticism are good, but no blatant insults
• Try to write at least 200 words
• Please no more than 1000 words
• First person to sign up starts the story
• I'll see if I can reward the participants in some way
• Have fun

Participants

• yuyu
• boe
• Sophist
• You?

Story: Paws and Peril

yuyu
  With great confidence, Sir Purrston fastened his jacket, buttoned up his trousers, and adjusted his tie. This was not his first day in the royal court. He turned to his wife - a delicate orange tabby with gazing crystal eyes - and softly spoke, "I shall return shortly, m'dear."
  "Please...be careful. You know his meowjesty is not a very patient cat."
  "I am quite aware, m'dear."
  Their noses met in a brief peck before he walked out the door.

  Sir Purrston slowly entered the castle and was accompanied by two soldiers, who led him to the throne room. He found his seat among the other cats before scanning the room with his piercing eyes. He immediately caught the attention of the feline that was seated beside him.
  "Oi, hello! Are yew a noblecat?"
  "I am indeed."
  "Yup, yup. It seems all ye tuxedo breeds get in the houses, aye?"
  "I beg your pardon...Who are you, and where are you from?"
  The strange cat beside him paused, listening extra closely to compensate for his short and squished-looking ears. He turned back to Sir Purrston, his eyes wide with excitement: "Look there, it's th' king!"

  A large cat waltzed down the hall majestically, a long red cloak dragging behind his paws. Many soldiers accompanied him as he placed himself into his plush throne.
  "Ahem," the royal cat cleared his throat through his lengthy mustache, "be still now in the royal court!" The king's voice bellowed throughout the room, "without further delay...bring out the purrpetrator!"

  Sir Purrston looked in the same direction as the other felines, his eyes spotted a familiar site...or rather, a familiar cat.
  "It...cannot be..." He whispered.

boe
Two silver clad knights led a young cat to the king. Their pauldrons in the shape of fish heads, their long flowing capes the color of the ocean. The king had impressive knights. Many countries envied his riches and power.
The knights both held a thick chain, connected to a neck shackle. The boy that the shackle was attached to, was far less impressive. He wore baggy clothing made of potato sacks, his fur dirty and ruffled.
The binding appeared to be very tight and it appeared that when they had closed it, they had caught some of his white fur in the hinge.
Purrston knew the cat, he was nearly still a kitten. Why was he being tried?
When they reached the king, one of the cats turned to the boy, “kneel.”
The boy looked into his eyes, then turned to the king, “I did nothing. I will not bow to a king that falsely accuses his people!”
The knight delivered a solid kick to the back of the boy’s leg, causing him to fall to his knees.
“I said kneel.”
The king watched, with a smile. He shift is weight and leaned forward, motioning for the boy to get closer.
“Do you know why you are here boy?”
“I was accused of stealing food from the royal stores.”
The king leaned back, “accused? You say that as if you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t. I haven’t stolen anything.”
A smile, and a nod, “knights, every time a lie slithers from his mouth, punish him.”
They saluted, their silver armor clanking and rattling.
“Now, why did you steal from my store rooms?” the king asked as he ran his finger along his throne.
“I didn’t st-” the boy said, both knights striking him in the back of the head.
“Why.”
The boy did not respond. Blood began to drip from his mouth.
Purrston stood, “he’s only a kitten, please.”
The entire court turned towards him, some stood.
The king also stood, motioning for the knights, “take this fool from my court! When your finished take this scum to the dungeon, we’re not getting any information out of him tonight.”
Purrston hurried home. He quickly changed into something less formal.
“Dear, what’s the rush?” his wife asked, “dinner is almost finished.”
“No time. Tom Rummage has been taken by the guard. He’s in the castle dungeon!”
“Oh my, poor little Tom is such a sweet boy. Why would they arrest him?”
He stepped through the door, “I’m going to find out.”

Sophist
Sir Purrston, son of Diggle Purrston, the head of Feline Study at the fabled Academy of Cats, stepped out into the cold wind. The thick jacket, suited for one of non-nobility, would suffice.

He knew he must hurry himself to the dungeon, whatever fate lay for the young kitten was not one that such a child deserved. That Fat Cat king, however merciful he may have been, was changing in Sir Purrston's eyes. The street was barren, a cobblestone pathway along the tract of Nobility of Feline. He knew his poor Esmeralda would worry, but it was better that she trusted him. Purrston felt underhanded as two guards strolled past, talking about the day's Fish catch, knowing that although he might as well be out on a nightly stroll, his intentions were unlawful. At the very least he had to find out what was to come of the poor boy. Tightening his coat, he rounded a corner.

On the other side was a trio of young cats, ones he recognized. Tom Rummage's clowder.

"Heyo, old boys. Yew seen what has come of poor Tom Rummage?" He asked politely, and quietly, as to not stir the local guard.

"Ayum, no sir. We haven't seen of him all day." One of the cats answered, a black and white tuxedo, wearing some scrappy clothing. Purrston leaned closer, and spoke in hushed tones.

"He's been shipped to the Dungeon rightly. Be a good couple of cats and see if you can find which cell he's in. I've got a couple of ducats for each of yew if yew can." The noblecat told them, flashing some coins from his pockets, which they all caught vision on with instant reflex.

"Right-o, pops." They said, and scurried down an alleyway, quick as can be.

Beneath the dungeon, some hours later, the young scrappy Tom Rummage was sitting on a bare floor, beside a pile of damp, mildew straw. The blood around his nose and mouth had finally stopped flowing, the guards had taken to striking him around a few times out of leisure. All he could see were their bright blue fish-head helmets, and then they tossed him in here. Squinting, he could see the bright moonlight through his alcove window, before it was suddenly blotted out.

A few seconds later, he could make out a head and face, someone hanging upside-down and grinning at him from behind the bars.

yuyu
Tom recognized sir Purrston only after squinting through his puffy, bruised eyes.
   "Sir Purrston...have yew come ta get me out?" He meowed in a chime. A nod from the glorious tuxedo confirmed his hopes.
   "Sit tight, Tom. I'll be right over." Sir Purrston flipped himself upright with grace and began to throw his weight back and forth, swinging to the side. Once the nearest balcony was in sight, he pounced his way across, gripping the edges of the balcony with his front claws and kicking his way up.
   In the room, he saw two soldiers conversing, the large one being Tom's designated guard. Sir Purrston used his massive build as cover, swiftly dashing behind them and to the door. He made his way to the dungeon's door and silently pried his way in.

   Sir Purrston appeared before Tom with cheetah-like speed, causing the young kitten to flinch.
   "Be still and quiet, m'boy. We mustn't alert the guards." Sir Purrston began to pick at the lock with whatever claw had the most length. The young kitten before him looked at him in amazement.
   "Woah, I can't believe it... Yew know how ta pick a lock, sir? Where'd you learn that?"
   The gentlecat before him nodded slightly, "one must not question a cat's past, yes?"
   "S-Sorry, sir."
   
   A small "clank" signaled the cell's surrender as the door swung ajar. Tom stepped out of his cage, barely holding himself up by his weak and wobbly paws.
   "You don't seem to have what it takes to make this escape," Sir Purrston shook his head, "we'll have to seek a more stealthy route."
   "I always did like a good game of cat and mouse," Tom grinned through broken and bloodied fangs, "and I might just have a plan."

   The dungeon door abruptly swung open, cracking against the wall beside it and bringing light into the shadowy prison. A large, fat cat marched down a small set of stairs and scanned the room. Through his fish-shaped helm, he was able to spot Tom in his cell.
   "Ready for a beatin', rogue?" He grinned deviously, showing his fangs.
   "Not as ready as yew need ta be!" Tom exclaimed, much to the cat's surprise. A strike of steel to the back of the soldier's head put him on the ground.
   "Now, that will do," sir Purrston purred as he sheathed his cane. It had served him well in the past for weaponry, just as it did now.
   He focused his glance on the large soldier, "yes, this armor will surely fit the two of us... But you will have to play the part of the rather large stomach."

ill join ;]

theme should be uhhhhhh

uhhhhhhhhhhh


cats?

i'll sign on as well

  With great confidence, Sir Purrston fastened his jacket, buttoned up his trousers, and adjusted his tie. This was not his first day in the royal court. He turned to his wife - a delicate orange tabby with gazing crystal eyes - and softly spoke, "I shall return shortly, m'dear."
  "Please...be careful. You know his meowjesty is not a very patient cat."
  "I am quite aware, m'dear."
  Their noses met in a brief peck before he walked out the door.

  Sir Purrston slowly entered the castle and was accompanied by two soldiers, who led him to the throne room. He found his seat among the other cats before scanning the room with his piercing eyes. He immediately caught the attention of the feline that was seated beside him.
  "Oi, hello! Are yew a noblecat?"
  "I am indeed."
  "Yup, yup. It seems all ye tuxedo breeds get in the houses, aye?"
  "I beg your pardon...Who are you, and where are you from?"
  The strange cat beside him paused, listening extra closely to compensate for his short and squished-looking ears. He turned back to Sir Purrston, his eyes wide with excitement: "Look there, it's th' king!"

  A large cat waltzed down the hall majestically, a long red cloak dragging behind his paws. Many soldiers accompanied him as he placed himself into his plush throne.
  "Ahem," the royal cat cleared his throat through his lengthy mustache, "be still now in the royal court!" The king's voice bellowed throughout the room, "without further delay...bring out the purrpetrator!"

  Sir Purrston looked in the same direction as the other felines, his eyes spotted a familiar site...or rather, a familiar cat.
  "It...cannot be..." He whispered.

for lack of a better theme ;]


(maybe you should let someone else pick the theme)

Two silver clad knights led a young cat to the king. Their pauldrons in the shape of fish heads, their long flowing capes the color of the ocean. The king had impressive knights. Many countries envied his riches and power.
The knights both held a thick chain, connected to a neck shackle. The boy that the shackle was attached to, was far less impressive. He wore baggy clothing made of potato sacks, his fur dirty and ruffled.
The binding appeared to be very tight and it appeared that when they had closed it, they had caught some of his white fur in the hinge.
Purrston knew the cat, he was nearly still a kitten. Why was he being tried?
When they reached the king, one of the cats turned to the boy, “kneel.”
The boy looked into his eyes, then turned to the king, “I did nothing. I will not bow to a king that falsely accuses his people!”
The knight delivered a solid kick to the back of the boy’s leg, causing him to fall to his knees.
“I said kneel.”
The king watched, with a smile. He shift is weight and leaned forward, motioning for the boy to get closer.
“Do you know why you are here boy?”
“I was accused of stealing food from the royal stores.”
The king leaned back, “accused? You say that as if you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t. I haven’t stolen anything.”
A smile, and a nod, “knights, every time a lie slithers from his mouth, punish him.”
They saluted, their silver armor clanking and rattling.
“Now, why did you steal from my store rooms?” the king asked as he ran his finger along his throne.
“I didn’t st-” the boy said, both knights striking him in the back of the head.
“Why.”
The boy did not respond. Blood began to drip from his mouth.
Purrston stood, “he’s only a kitten, please.”
The entire court turned towards him, some stood.
The king also stood, motioning for the knights, “take this fool from my court! When your finished take this scum to the dungeon, we’re not getting any information out of him tonight.”
Purrston hurried home. He quickly changed into something less formal.
“Dear, what’s the rush?” his wife asked, “dinner is almost finished.”
“No time. Tom Rummage has been taken by the guard. He’s in the castle dungeon!”
“Oh my, poor little Tom is such a sweet boy. Why would they arrest him?”
He stepped through the door, “I’m going to find out.”

Sir Purrston, son of Diggle Purrston, the head of Feline Study at the fabled Academy of Cats, stepped out into the cold wind. The thick jacket, suited for one of non-nobility, would suffice.

He knew he must hurry himself to the dungeon, whatever fate lay for the young kitten was not one that such a child deserved. That Fat Cat king, however merciful he may have been, was changing in Sir Purrston's eyes. The street was barren, a cobblestone pathway along the tract of Nobility of Feline. He knew his poor Esmeralda would worry, but it was better that she trusted him. Purrston felt underhanded as two guards strolled past, talking about the day's Fish catch, knowing that although he might as well be out on a nightly stroll, his intentions were unlawful. At the very least he had to find out what was to come of the poor boy. Tightening his coat, he rounded a corner.

On the other side was a trio of young cats, ones he recognized. Tom Rummage's clowder.

"Heyo, old boys. Yew seen what has come of poor Tom Rummage?" He asked politely, and quietly, as to not stir the local guard.

"Ayum, no sir. We haven't seen of him all day." One of the cats answered, a black and white tuxedo, wearing some scrappy clothing. Purrston leaned closer, and spoke in hushed tones.

"He's been shipped to the Dungeon rightly. Be a good couple of cats and see if you can find which cell he's in. I've got a couple of ducats for each of yew if yew can." The noblecat told them, flashing some coins from his pockets, which they all caught vision on with instant reflex.

"Right-o, pops." They said, and scurried down an alleyway, quick as can be.

Beneath the dungeon, some hours later, the young scrappy Tom Rummage was sitting on a bare floor, beside a pile of damp, mildew straw. The blood around his nose and mouth had finally stopped flowing, the guards had taken to striking him around a few times out of leisure. All he could see were their bright blue fish-head helmets, and then they tossed him in here. Squinting, he could see the bright moonlight through his alcove window, before it was suddenly blotted out.

A few seconds later, he could make out a head and face, someone hanging upside-down and grinning at him from behind the bars.

Tom recognized sir Purrston only after squinting through his puffy, bruised eyes.
   "Sir Purrston...have yew come ta get me out?" He meowed in a chime. A nod from the glorious tuxedo confirmed his hopes.
   "Sit tight, Tom. I'll be right over." Sir Purrston flipped himself upright with grace and began to throw his weight back and forth, swinging to the side. Once the nearest balcony was in sight, he pounced his way across, gripping the edges of the balcony with his front claws and kicking his way up.
   In the room, he saw two soldiers conversing, the large one being Tom's designated guard. Sir Purrston used the cat's massive build as cover, swiftly dashing behind them and to the door. He made his way to the dungeon's door and silently pried his way in.

   Sir Purrston appeared before Tom with cheetah-like speed, causing the young kitten to flinch.
   "Be still and quiet, m'boy. We mustn't alert the guards." Sir Purrston began to pick at the lock with whatever claw had the most length. The young kitten before him looked at him in amazement.
   "Woah, I can't believe it... Yew know how ta pick a lock, sir? Where'd you learn that?"
   The gentlecat before him nodded slightly, "one must not question a cat's past, yes?"
   "S-Sorry, sir."
   
   A small "clank" signaled the cell's surrender as the door swung ajar. Tom stepped out of his cage, barely holding himself up by his weak and wobbly paws.
   "You don't seem to have what it takes to make this escape," Sir Purrston shook his head, "we'll have to seek a more stealthy route."
   "I always did like a good game of cat and mouse," Tom grinned through broken and bloodied fangs, "and I might just have a plan."

   The dungeon door abruptly swung open, cracking against the wall beside it and bringing light into the shadowy prison. A large, fat cat marched down a small set of stairs and scanned the room. Through his fish-shaped helm, he was able to spot Tom in his cell.
   "Ready for a beatin', rogue?" He grinned deviously, showing his fangs.
   "Not as ready as yew need ta be!" Tom exclaimed, much to the cat's surprise. A strike of steel to the back of the soldier's head put him on the ground.
   "Now, that will do," sir Purrston purred as he sheathed his cane. It had served him well in the past for weaponry, just as it did now.
   He focused his glance on the large soldier, "yes, this armor will surely fit the two of us... But you will have to play the part of the rather large stomach."