By: Daniel Kendle

People lived in fear of the world outside, threatened by all that rattled and moaned. Creatures of the dark kept us towards the light, though they still didn’t aid in our separation from one another. Villagers were scared, not just of monsters, but of their own kin.

Their greatest fear, however, was of an nameless entity. This being, an amorphous force, would come upon unsuspecting folk and …take control of them, for lack of a better term. It’d force their limbs to move, as if a hand was puppeting them from inside. They’d move erratically, strangely, all to kill and consume anything near them. This being was what scared people most of all, the reason why they hid away.

And yet… times change. The cryptid eventually disappeared to who-knows-where. Inventions of weapons and rudimentary transport lessened fears of nighttime monsters enough to become manageable. The world, while still scary, was now met with people ready to defend their kind.

And yet, if you ask someone old and weathered, they’ll still remember the horror. The beast. The parasite. Fear has a way of doing that; lasting with you till the end of time…’

“Did all that really happen, Unca’ Fozzie?”

Robin and Fozzie sat stagnant by the campfire. Robin popped another beetle into his mouth while staring at the latter expectantly.

“Wha-! Yes, that’s how a backstory works,” Fozzie said, flustered. He kept stammering for a bit whilst Robin dazed off, munching on beetles.

“No, no, it’s just that …y’know, it all seems a little far-fetched. Like, body snatchers? Mind control? Really?” Robin questioned.

“Well, ‘mind control’s’ a bit of an oversimplification, Robin, but still, it’s all real. My father had firsthand experience with the time, being among those to first become part of my village’s defense corp.” Fozzie stretched, rolling his jowls. Robin had started shish kabob-ing beetles onto a stick, holding it out to the fire.

“Huh. Neat,” Robin lazily replied.

The pair sat silent for a while, content with the warm glow in front of them. The smoke rose in a straight tower above it, swirling around before disappearing into the infinite black of the starry night. The pines around them seemed to creep ever closer by the hour.

Fozzie yawned, before quietly unpacking a modest rucksack. He pulled out a few supplies: a pair of blankets and pillows, a lantern, a thin dagger, and a metal flask. He moved the flask to his lips, paused, then shrugged and set it down beside him. The two then began unfurling the wool coverings, nestling into the grass beneath them afterwards.

“Uncle Fozzie?” Robin asked.

The bear turned his head slightly and grunted.

“Did …did you ever see the creature?”

Fozzie thought for a moment. He grabbed the flask again and took a swig.

“Yes.”

He took a bucket of water and quickly doused the flame, which sizzled in anger as the pair were enveloped in darkness once again.

In the morning, the adventurers had already well-begun their path once again. Winding through the deep forest, they trudged in small conversation as the trees thickened around them. This went on for a while: meandering small talk that diverted them from the quest at hand. That was, until they reached the maw of the cave.

Fozzie unlatched a small satchel from his hip, rummaging around whilst small knicks and bobs were shuffled around in his palm. He finally pulled out a handful of glowing red balls, like burning metal.

“Take a few,” Fozzie said, holding them out to the frog. Robin hesitantly took a pair, quickly stashing them away. They both paused for a moment, looking at the ground, then nodded at one another. They made their way inside the cave.

The cavern was really more of a tunnel: the opening soon narrowed into a catacomb-like corridor, with bones acting as replacements for your stereotypical stone and granite deposits. Candles dotted the floor at first, part of miniature shrines and zealot altars. These small setups became scarce the further into the cave Fozzie and Robin traveled. The latter preferred this, with the candlelight’s disappearance now masking the skulls that shrieked in bitter silence.

“Do we have a game plan, Uncle Fozzie?”

Fozzie turned, giving his companion a warm smile.

“I do, actually – it all depends on those balms I handed you earlier.” They stopped, once again pulling the molten marbles out and examining them.

“These are Flame Incendiaries, though most knights of the Muppet Kingdom just call em’ Hotshots. All you gotta do is throw one…” Fozzie tensed up, then threw an explosive down their path. Meters away, a miniature explosion created a loud BANG, with star-shaped sparks sprinkling around the blast zone.

“…and the rest is self-explanatory.”

Fozzie chuckled, but then knelt down before Robin with a slightly-more somber expression. He placed his paws on the squire’s shoulders.

“The creature’s susceptible to fire – as are we. Keep this in mind when we face it together; in the middle of battle, you don’t want to be tossing these around all willy-nilly.”

Robin nodded swiftly, and Fozzie’s face softened again. He got up, and they started their march down the cave’s throat again. But then, after rounding a slight corner, they emerged from the spanning black into a dimly-lit clearing.

The two slowly walked into the room. The bone walls here eventually did reduce into familiar dark stone, stalactites acting like the teeth of an angry beast. Flesh-covered bodies served as a cushioned floor, maggots and ticks included. Both tried hard not to vomit as they shuffled into the stone-floor center.

For a minute, they stood there, alert and battle-ready. Yet silence was all that met them, aside from the stray fly buzzing lazily around the corpses.

“Weird,” Robin said. “I thought we’d be plunged right into a fight, not …this.”

Fozzie didn’t answer, instead looking around the room more intently. He could now make out a pile of dried grasses against one wall, nestled behind a small barricade of rocks and stalagmites. He squinted, attempting to infer any little detail about the scene. A bone …a couple scales …another bone …he shook his head and kept peering around the den.

Water dripped. Candlefire danced. Robin inched even closer to his uncle. It was as if the world itself watched in anticipation.

‘Could the map have led me wrong? Baron Gonzo isn’t the untrustworthy sort, so perhaps the beast abandoned this territory long ago. But still …what’s up with this place?” Fozzie held a fist to his chin, stroking it while contemplating. He dazed off into speculation, rarely fidgeting with a trinket on his belt as he thought about the mission.

He was so deep in thought that he only noticed the readied tail’s stinger before it was too late.

CRACK! The whip tail struck the adventurers like a bull charging a paper bag, sending them flying forwards. They hit the wall and sunk to the floor, bodies slack in shock. The paralysis was short-lived, but they still struggled in confusion to spot where the attack had come from.

The creature emerged from the darkness with insectoid and crocodilian legs both plodding in sync as it circled the duo. It was gigantic, around the size of three elephants, with its whiptail five in length. It ended in a blood-stained stinger that was reminiscent of a hornet’s – only now a meter long. This would’ve been its most notable feature if it hadn’t been for the large white mask adorning it, visually-akin to that of a theatre’s stereotypical “happy” mask.

Its growl was like an overlay of a snake’s hiss and a child’s laughter, ominous as it was curious. The taunting sound continued as the adventurers finally regained their composure.

“U-Uncle Fozzie, is that th-!” Robin began, just as the monster launched its tail at them again. Fozzie launched himself at his nephew, knocking them both down. The tail crashed into the wall, sending small bits of rocky debris falling around it.

“Yeah, Robin. It’s …bigger than from when I last saw it!” They stood up again, the beast recoiling its tail back into a tight coil. It roared in rage at their dodge, and charged them again.

The pair split up, running left and right in an attempt to confuse their assailant. Focusing on the bear, the cryptid pounced towards him. Fozzie quickly threw a Hotshot at the beast before it was able to land on him, causing it to rear up and back. Robin let out a cheer as he too found his two pellets again, leading to a monkey-in-the-middle with the heroes trading explosions against their foe’s green hide.

But then Robin suddenly felt weird. The monster had begun to snarl and brace itself, a strange purple aura surrounding its mask. The soot and ash covering it disappeared while the light grew stronger. Buckled down, the beast was shaking in anticipation, while Robin and Fozzie, both clueless as to its intentions, could only watch in slight fear. Has the fight already been won?

Then, the beast screamed. The cave was lit in white light.

Robin screeched as he felt among the sharpest pains known to man erupt in his head. He flattened to the floor, curled into a ball as images were projected into his mind. He saw many things in what seemed like minutes, but was really only a split second.

Robin saw pictures of plants, animals, cities, and people. He saw wars, famine, love, hate, and emotion. He saw death, and life, castles and dragons, the young and old. He saw everything in the universe while his head spiraled. It was as if claws were scraping against his brain, a hand piercing through his back, up his throat, and into his head.

“Robin? Robin?!” Fozzie cried. The beast had vanished, leaving him and Robin alone in the room. His accomplice was shaking in the middle of the room, now attempting to stand. “Are you okay?”

The frog quickly stood stiffly upright. His hands were straight at his sides, like a puppet. He then relaxed a bit, though his knocked knees made Fozzie a little uneasy.

“Look, Robin – the creature’s gone, you don’t have to keep-.” He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, turning him around.

Expecting his friend’s normal groggy face, Fozzie was startled and (literally) floored to see a demonic, contorted face in a perpetual scream. Purple light now shone from inside him, escaping through his eyes and mouth. He moved towards the now-grounded Fozzie, jerking his limbs around even more puppet-like than before.

His face now looked just like the skulls covering the den’s entrance.

“Robin? I-is that …you?” Fozzie’s mouth moved up and down some more, but no words came out. Robin’s face cracked and carved into a slit-mouthed smile. He simply screamed just like the beast had moments ago, unsheathed his glaive, and attempted to bring it down upon the bear’s head.

Fozzie rolled out of the way and quickly bounced back up, crossbow at the ready. Memories flood his mind of his mother, father, normal townsfolk, all under the same spectral influence. He now recognized the purple light; it was just like how those in his town looked that one fateful night.

“I know your tricks, demon,” Fozzie growled. “You came to my village, remember? Killed off half the population? Well, times have changed: I’m not going down without a fight.”

The demon laughed from inside Robin’s body. His demeanor quickly shifted as he flung a shuriken towards Fozzie. The bear blocked it, and the adversaries started trading blows.

Fozzie blocked a sudden slash from the glaive using a bone, then clubbed Robin’s body with it like a baseball bat. The demon was physically stunned, but twisted a webbed fist around the femur and flung it aside – Fozzie with it.

The bear leapt back up and charged towards Robin. They engaged in fist-to-fist combat, with Fozzie carefully making sure not to draw blood from his friend’s controlled body.

The demon was sent back a couple meters, feet sliding against the stone as dust kicked up around them. They sneered, head turning upside-down as he brandished Robin’s dagger. They launched themselves towards Fozzie, who met the blade with a knife of his own.

The two angrily pressed metal to metal for a moment. Fozzie scrunched his face while the demon made Robin’s cheeks stretch from cheek to cheek. Then, he maneuvered a swift side-sweep of Robin’s foot, buckling the bear before grabbing him by his fur. He giggled again, hissing like a serpent of death.

“YOU THINK I DON’T REMEMBER YOUR TOWN?” The demon spat, a mix of Robin’s voice and some deep rumble. He brought his mouth to Fozzie’s ear.

“I WATCHED YOUR PARENTS DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.”

Fozzie screamed, and flung the demon off of him. It stumbled back, looking up only to see a roundhouse kick from the hero hit him dead in the face. It was launched to the floor again, ricocheting-off as Robin and the demon split apart once again. Robin rolled towards a corner of the den, while the demon quickly grew back into its titanic size.

But Fozzie was prepared. Letting loose a war cry he leaped up, grabbing onto the whiptail as it tried to slash at him. The cryptid attempted to flee, but Fozzie’s rage catapulted him to its neck.

Billowing with anger, Fozzie roared. He swiftly wiped away specks of dirt on the demon’s forehead and plunged the tail’s stinger through it: past the skin, through the skull, and out the other side.

…

“Do you remember anything? The fight, the rambling, being kicked in the head?” Fozzie questioned.

Robin bit into an apple, chewing methodically as he thought.

“Nah, not really. Mostly all just a blur: one minute I was curled up on the floor, the next I’m rolling on the ground.”

Fozzie sighed, shaking his head. He turned back to watch the parade floats inch by. Robin climbed up the small stone wall.

“Still though, Unca’ Fozzie. That all sounds scary, but …did it really happen?”

Fozzie kept watching the floats turn the corner by Beaker’s Beakers. He thought about his parents for a second.

“Yes.”

The pair continued munching on apples, happily chattering as confetti filled the vast blue sky around them.