AWKWARD ZOMBIE

(Hey guys, pop flyin' Halloween!

First of all, thanks for the support so far! It's a lot more fun doing this when I know there's an audience!

Second of all, sorry I haven't updated yet today. Like all my projects, if I don't feel like I'm focused enough on it to make a good update, I won't release one. I'd rather wait and release something I think is worthwhile, rather than something I half-heartedly farted out on my computer in ten minutes. I'm not saying no update today, but it's possible. Definitely an update tomorrow, though.)

Cranzibald: secure horses for the journey

Sir Cranberry: Also secure non cake food for journey

Cranken Cran: While the princess is inattentive, sneak a bottle of wine into your bag.

You two are on Princess shoe scrubbing duty for the next 3 months for those terrible nicknames.

Sir Cranzibald sends word of their journey to a few of his top men in order for them to procure provisions while he dealt with the princess. If he had to suffer through this idiocy, at least his men could be productive for a change.

A general approached and let him know that their horses were ready. Well, a pony and a horse, since the Princess found full-sized horses to be repugnant or something as of last week when she found that the Princess of Rossidin was traveling exclusively on boners. Sir Cranzibald thanked the general and dismissed him.

A few minutes later another general appeared with a bag filled with food, all secure and travel-ready. The man had succeeded in procuring some of Sir Cranzibald's guilty pleasure aswell, potatoes. There was just something about the spuds in this kingdom that gave him inner joy. However, no one must know of his culinary weakness.

"Ah, I see you've also packed potatoes." Sir Cranzibald said, raising an eyebrow and holding in the saliva his mouth was adamant in producing.

"Yes sir," the general said with a salute. "You seemed to enjoy them at the last banquet. I believed getting them for this journey would be a great morale boost, all things considered."

Sir Cranzibald was touched by the man's honesty and thought for his superior's happiness. On the other hand, he could easily be trying to bribe him. Sir Cranzibald gave a grunt of approval to the young general, and the man darted off with a dumb grin on his face. Poor bastard's going to be eaten alive in this world.

Speaking of bribery, a third general (known to be a sycophant) approached, with a sneaky smirk on his face. He quietly spoke to Sir Cranzibald about "necessary provisions" and revealed not 1, but 2 bottles of royal wine that he had snatched from the wine cellar. He proceeded to try putting the bottles in Sir Cranzibald's bag and wink about how he could use them to score some debauchery. Sir Cranzibald's eyes flared up as he told the man to return the bottles immediately and leave his sight. The weasel just about tripped over himself in fear and muttered something about his parents being Lords and that he wouldn't have to deal with being treated as an underling any more. After his next assignment on the war front, Sir Cranzibald was sure that the little worm wouldn't be coming back to report to anyone.

May need a nickname for Sir Cranzibald's horse and possibly the Princess's pony, provided Marc doesn't have a name for her or that she doesn't throw a fit and demand a full-sized horse because IMPORTANT JOURNEY

While Cranzibald heads off to do who knows what, you head off to your study to get important supplies. You take three rolls of parchment, two bottles of ink, and several feather pens. You're certain that this journey will provide some excellent ideas for your next upcoming novel. "Princess Buttfairy the Memory Stealer". You can see it already! Ooh, musn't forget to send a copy to Red for her approval once it's finished. She's always been really good at proofreading your work to assure maximum snark. Man, your bag's getting full already. You hope your escort isn't wasting valuable space in his luggage, unlike you.



Cup....cakes? Oh! You must mean the miniature cakes you invented recently! You've been looking for a catchy name for them, and you guess you have one now. The recipe isn't perfect yet, and you're not sure how well they travel, but you might as well take them on a field test.

You head into the kitchen and retrieve the "cup cakes" you prepared yesterday. They've been carefully wrapped in parchment paper to keep them from getting stale. You take one or two or twenty of them and put them in your bag. Hey, wait a minute, now that you're here, you feel like you're forgetting something..... OH CRAP IT'S THE COOK'S BIRTHDAY TODAY. SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT. You start to freak the heck out! Grabbing assorted ingredients, you scramble around the kitchen and start to prepare a cake. But hang on a second! He's the cook! If he wants a cake so badly, he can make his own dang cake!

....You instantly regret saying that. You didn't mean it like that, cake....

You exit the kitchen and head for the infirmary. The maids give you some first aid supplies, including minor healing tonics, antidotes, and bandages. You discreetly ask the head maid for the ointment you requested last week for your, ahem, rash. She quickly walks away and returns with the bottle, handing it to you behind her back. You set it into your bag in one swift motion and walk out the door before anyone notices.

Finally, you meet up with Cranzibald at the castle gates. It looks like he's prepared a few steeds while you were out. And look! He even found your favorite pony, Marmalade, for you! That's oddly considerate of him. You'll have to remind yourself to not be "busy" on his birthday next year. You take Marmalade's reigns from Sir Not as Cranky as You Thought, and pet his cream-colored snout. Yes, it's a he! What, Marmalade can't be a boy's name? Well, you like his name, and that's that. Marmalade was a gift from Papa when you were thirteen after you asked nonstop for a week about please please pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaassssse can you have a pony, puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez, Papa? Red got a pony for her birthday, it's not fair, pretty pretty please with sugar and frosting and a cherry and rainbow sprinkles on top? And ever since then, you and the creamy horse have been inseparable.

You thank Cranzibald for retrieving your trusty steed, and he nods in acknowledgement. He holds the reigns of his own horse, which you're not sure if he's given a name to? It's a powerful work horse, meant to be used to assist in manual labor and to carry supplies and soldiers during battles, unlike Marmalade, a smaller pony meant solely for carrying your delicate tush from place to place and who is also adorable and the best and you love him. Cranzibald puts his bags on his horse's back and mounts the beast. Wait, BAGS? You thought you only gave him one. You guess one of the guards must have brought him another one for additional supplies. You ask to check the bags, and the Captain looks at you with apprehension. The first bag contains food and other necessities. You kind of wonder why you didn't think to get any food while you yourself were in the kitchen. Man, there's a lot of potatoes in this bag. You're not a big fan of them, but you'll have to manage, you suppose. Or let Marmalade go nuts. You reach for the second bag and Cranzibald snatches it up quickly, insisting that it merely contain personal affects. A muffled glass clink echoes through the bag as he grabs it, and you suddenly understand just how "personal" they are. Whatever, you'll let it slide. You're in a hurry, and he did bring you your baby Marmy-kins after all.

You place your bag onto Marmalade's back and set yourself into the saddle. OK, you're ready to go! What's our first stop?

Isn't that the one British actor?

Indeed. That's his name exactly.

Also sorry for naming the horse myself, but we gotta get a move on. Can't be stopping to name every equine we come across.

This is why no one respects your rule.

Well, fine. See if you ever get birthday cake ever again.

I never did.

You were always "too busy".

Would someone tell the princess where she's going already?

There's one person in particular we've heard of, but haven't visited yet.

Blue Dove?

To the creepyimean eccentric old fortune teller man! He needs to clarify that weird letter you got

The lordling general stormed off agitatedly, grumbling about "Blasted Reds" and "He's lucky the Princess still tolerates his booty around here." He glanced over at the general who brought Cranzibald some potatoes, and thought to himself, "Cranzibald obviously only likes those potatoes because of his Rossidian origins. Hey, maybe if I brought him some Vodka next time..." not realizing that potatoes were an Azurian food, for he was the worst kind of person.
Later, when he arrived at his family's esteemed house, still in a sour mood from Cranzibald's words, he thought to himself, "Tch, how much longer will I have to grovel at the Royalty's heels to curry favor until I become an Admiral? Grrraahhh, confound that Cranzibald! Uuu, I'm getting a headache. Well, a headache's nothing a few of the good courtesans can't fix."

"Good day, Lord Francois," said his family's butler, tutor, and ex-knight, Andre. "Whatever, Andre," Francois replied.
"Have you been keeping up with your studies in war strategy?" "There's not a war going on!"
"The Kingdom was at its most dire hour when the Rossidians attacked, and there was no prior warning of them attacking." "I'm sure the Rossidians aren't attacking us anytime soon."
"You need to take your duties as a general more seriously! Your father entrusted his position to you so that you would defend the Kingdom he so loved." "The position of general is a joke! Admiral, however... Enough of this, leave my presence."

Once Andre left, Francois was again approached by one of his servants, the family's caretaker. "Dearie, your mother wishes for you to accompany her to the play tonight." "Tell her I'll be occupied this evening, I have a hot date."
"As you wish, Lord Francois," said the caretaker gloomily.

Francois stormed through the house until he came upon the hall containing his chambers. There was a maid dusting the cool-looking jar resting on a pedestal that was supposedly from the Royal family. The young maid looked over at him, gasped, and thought to herself, "Gah! Lord Francois is here! Maybe I can get him to notice me by showing the utmost respect him, and when I bow his gaze would wander, and then we would do this and that, and I'd become a Lady! And then I would be living the high life! Okay Marie, time to show your stuff!"
"Greetings most esteemed Lord Francois, how are you doing on this very fine, most splendid day?" Marie asked excitedly as she bowed to where he could get a good view of her cleavage. "Outtamyway!" Francois snapped as he shoved her aside, causing her to bump into the pedestal holding up that cool-looking jar. "Fwaaahhh!" yelped Marie as she saw the cool-looking jar begin to fall off of the pedestal. Luckily, she caught the cool-looking jar just before it was about to shatter on the ground in a thousand little pieces.

The door finally slammed behind him as he walked over to his wardrobe, deep in thought about what flashy thing he would be wearing tonight, then picked something and threw it on his bed. He passed by his father's old sword that lacked any impressive bits on it at all, being made only with efficiency in mind. Since when would he ever be using a sword as a general? Generals were there to lead others to hit people with their swords. He then went over to his night stand and pulled out a sizable coin purse.
"Ahhh, I wonder how many of my lovelies this will affo-" "Coo."
"What in the bleeding hell was that noise?" He noticed that it came from outside the window.
"Oh, just a bird." Next came a tapping noise from his window. "Accursed avian!" Francois moved towards the window to shoo the bird away.
When he opened the window, a "Coo" was heard, and a thousand doves poured into his room.

"Blast!" was one of the many things that escaped the lordling's lips as the birds pecked and scratched at him and flew every which way in his room.
"Pfffffbt!" Some feathers had gotten in his mouth, but after he spit them out, he noticed that his room was finally bereft of doves... along with the contents of his wardrobe, his coinpurse, and the good sheets on his bed. The only things left in his room besides furniture were his father's sword, and a blue feather lying in the midst of a lot of white ones.

He plucked the blue feather with evident ferocity, and stomped over to his open window, and roared,
"A POX ON YOU, BLLLUUUUUUUUEEE DOOOOOVVVVVVEEE!"