Attacking the Darkness!
Mole Number 1 (Terrac the Meat Render)
A mole, in the entrance of the cave.
He is a grey mole with sharp claws. He does not say much, rather preferring to let his chosen mate speak.
“And in the eight hundred and fortieth year of our burrow, a champion was born until us. But like many rodents of great esteem, he came from the humblest of beginnings. There was once a burrow kingdom whore who’s name, long forgotten, found herself heavy with child. Legend has it, the seed she carried was that of the Grand Vizier Digler. When news of a potential heir to the thrown of common lineage reached his delicate ears, Digler sent his Oprichnik to bury this threat to his sovereignty. Their claws, adorned with diamond talons, they were the most ruthless moles known to mole. Forewarned by a gentle palace healer, the whore-mole fled through the moist Earth. However, as she broke free to the forbidden surface, she was intercepted by the Oprichnik who tunneled with the speed of a grub possessed by Baal himself! As they threw themselves upon her, vivisecting her tender mole hide, the cadre was besieged by their most hated enemies, the bats. Turning only to see his moles in arms and the lifeless corpse of the whore carried off into the sky, Marcibald returned to his sovereign and reported the slaying a success.
However, no story every truly ends, as every end is simply the beginning of a new story, or sometimes a legend. You see, though the whore had died, her child had not. The Oprinchnik were carried back to the caves and quickly devoured by the ravenous bats. When it came time to consume the whore, a mole-child spilled out of her torn body and fell to the cave floor. They dove to swallow up this tasty morsel, but were halted by a booming screech. Bitey, the wise old king of the cave hangers peered with his radar screeches. “There will be no meal of this child, for lo, tis a blood moon. He is destined to become a great warrior. Would it not make sense to raise him as one of our own?” The cacophony grew louder as the bats screeched and played their bat drums into the night.
He was given the name Terrac, which in his native mole language means, “He who hews the ruby in twain.” In the puppery, he was fed a diet of worms and blood from returning sentries. His chosen austere father taught him to fight and to fly with the ability wings cobbled together from the pieces of fallen comrades. His gentle mother taught him the philosophies of the greats, honing him with the power of a sharpened mind. For 24 long months, he toiled in the air by day and dug by night. He sharpened his claws on the bones of the other dead moles he was raised to hate, taught of their treachery and evil mole ways. He followed his general into raids on shrews. He later lead his brother bats into raids on sea gulls. When it came time to leave the cave, Bitey spoke until him. “My son, we have raised you as one of us, so that you may possess the power and knowledge to right the wrong that has befallen you so many years ago. Return to your kingdom and take that which is rightfully yours. And when you do, remember who it was that spared your life so that we may enter into an accord of peace. No longer shall we bicker and fight amongst each other like common voles.”
Flying to the tree above the Subteraneopolis, Terrac stashed his wings under a root, longing for the day when he could once again return to the sky, the mother who accepted him after his father ground had rejected him. As he buried his wings, he looked up and saw a little mole woman come to the surface, pursuing a tasty cicada grub. “Gotta gobble! Gotta gobble! I love to dig. Dirt is nice!” She cheerfully proclaimed to the night air. She leaped upon the grub, devouring it greedily. In her haste, she had failed to notice that a bobcat crept upon her, it’s eyes red in the murk of the thick fog. Trained to listen in the superterrania, Terrac identified the threat. Without thought, as the bobcat pounced on the innocent mole, Terrac instinctively dove pokey nose first into the throat of the beast. Surprised it crashed into the ground, landing on top of the mole-woman. She struggled free as the cat gathered itself to it’s feet and swayed side to side. It approached her, when suddenly it collapsed into a heap. She panted and froze in shock of the whole affair, only to noticed a slight twitching of it’s chest. Like a bolt of lightning, Terrac errupted from the breast of the beast, through the heart! And thus he would become known as Terrac, the Meat Render.
In the hours preceding, he would come to know her as Mindy, and know her as his own. Explaining his story, she accepted the fate of her hero, to depose this wicked ruler from the thrown. They tunneled into the night, returning to Subteraneopolis. In the open tunnels, she spoke to the tunnel folk of her savior, his fur still moist from the blood, and her fur still moist from him. Stoically, he marches as the townsfolk led him to the palace. Outside the Oprichnik stood guard. “None may enter!” were the last words they uttered, as he methodically burrowed through their minds one by one.
Upon reaching the thrown, he found Grand Vizier Digler pacing, no doubt alerted by the screams of his guards, one by one. Terrac approached him and took a knee. “Father, I have returned to you, a man, a champion, a mole. Will you have me?”
Digler walked behind him and postulated openly, “It has been many months since your mother fled from us. You see, she stole a rare-” but as he recounted her wrong, Terrac, struck upwards at diggler, rending him in twain, his splattering blood, the color of a Ruby. The molefolk in attendance cheered. An aged mole wandered over and placed the deposed crown on Terrac’s weary head. He turned to speak.
“Gentle mole people and shrews in attendance. I am no king! I am not a ruler! I am a mole of vision, but moreso, I am a mole of wanderlust and justice. Mine is the fate to seek out those in need and travel this great land. You see, I have spent some time with the bats.” The mole-folk gasped. “And they have spoke to me of a peace, and democracy. The time has come for change! We rodents must work together to fight the common threat of dogs and cats, who would kill us for sport. Surely there must be one among you who would lead, but that mole is not me. Justice has been served.”
As he turned to leave, a claw grabbed his hand. “Can I come with you? I may not be wise, but I dig well. I dig very well.” He looked into her squinty little eyes and met her stare with a look of approval. Off they walked into the great brown yonder, tunneling until the end of their days.
And in their time, they did have many an adventure, but that is another story."