The War of .Zip (Working Title)

Protwig.

Lieutenant Travis of the Royal Brigadiers ran into the burrow, the sound of battle at his back and the blood of his friends dripping down the front of his uniform and part of his face.

''General Destructor? General? Sir, we need to retreat!'' shouted Travis. He meant to speak it, but his ears were yet unaccustomed to the silence of the burrow. The Generals absence was worrying.
Had she gone out into the field to fight the good fight? Throwing caution to the wind and leading the troops from the front. Seemed like her.

''Through here, I'm having a bath!'' Squeaked the General.

''In your enemies blood?'' Travis answered, walking forward slowly.

''No, with BUBBLES!'' Travis moved past the softly wafting pink sheets that divided the him from the General as she spoke.

''Sir, I have bad news.'' He was unsure how the General would take the news and so kept his distance from the tub. A tub that was currently brimming with bubbles. The General's ears poked through the bubble layer, one of which had that famous scar splitting it down the middle. The story of how she had fought bravely to defend the Chair and received the scar in the process was well known by all. A little too well known actually as it was the only song the bards had been taught. Literally every tavern, hall or street was plagued by this one melody.

It had developed into such a problem that the majority of the population had decided to go to war so the bards could finally compose some new ballads about these new legends to add some variety to their act.

''Well, bad news always comes with good news, so lets have the good news first.'' The Generals voice answered from beneath the behemoth of bubbles.

''Well...'' Travis thought carefully. After watching his unit be killed one by one and having to crawl through their blood and dead bodies to get to safety, he hadn't thought of the good news ''we're alive...?''

''YES! Due to my expert military tactics! So, lets hear the bad news then.'' Destructor said, clearly unaware of what had occurred.

''All our troops have been killed in action.'' For the first time since Travis had arrived a small Y shaped nose poked through the cover of bubbles

''How many of the enemies men are left?'' Asked the General.

''All of them.'' Travis prepared for the Generals explosive response.

''Hum... I'm going to have to say I dropped the ball on this one. Oh well, we can always find reinforcements!'' Destructor submerged herself back, beneath the bubbles.

''Sir, the reinforcements were called as soon as we lost half of our forces due to your decision to send them around to flank the enemy.'' Travis said as he walked towards a towel to dry some of the blood off his uniform.

''Ahh yes, that was a stroke of geniuses!'' Destructor replied with absolutely no modesty in her voice.

''It would have been sir, if not for the field of mines that they ran into.'' Travis could still see the explosions every time he closed his eyes.

''Why didn't they turn back then?'' Destructor said before making a whirring noise and moving from one side of the tub to the other.

''That would be because the enemy was in pursuit. The remaining company tried to continue to the location you had specified but died in the process.'' Travis said as he dabbed the blood from his uniform.

''How?'' Destructors voice snapped Travis back to realist.

''I feel that you're unaware of the cliff, canyon and river that lies between here and the location that you had specified...'' Travis said as he noticed the slowly burning candles illuminating the General's bed.

''Did they not jump?'' Destructor asked.

''...They all jumped. That's why they're dead. Everyone is dead. Your strategy was so flawed, so completely and utterly rubbish, that literally the entire armada we had brought with us has died with the exception of yourself and myself.'' Travis responded as he wondered over to get a better view of the Generals luxurious chambers.

''Ahh, well. We can always make more.'' Destructor replied without worry.

''Sir?'' Travis was cut short by the General jumping out of the tub and landing a few feet in front of him. The water shimmered off her hulking naked muscular body, outlining every scar gifted on her by battle. She was easily twice the size of most rabbits and was said to have the strength of ten. Some said she had killed a wolf once for sport, others said that she had been trying to ''befriend'' the wolf and broken it.

''Call me Stacy...'' General Destructor smiled then as she pulled Travis closer. Travis saw only darkness then and after what he would see, after what he would do, he would feel unworthy of any light that would want to touch him ever again.

Many rabbits were lost that day, including Lieutenant Travis later that night in 'unspecified act of torture'. The Generals children eventually covered the field in so much of their own blood that the rhinos were Generally quite horrified and finally agreed to a truce that meant the rabbits had to mostly retreat from Africa. Since then, three dynasties, two imperiums, one era that's recorded completely in Polish have transpired.
But through it all, the Chair stood still.

The Chair had simply existed, a behemoth wooden around which their world rotated (figuratively). Many had tried to understand it's meaning, the scholar Arntyouacutie once said that it had been a God once but that it had been cast out of heaven and had fallen next to the volcano of unholy rage (from whence the abomination that killed King Ynamoot the 799th was spawned from and where King Ynamoot the 800th had thrown the abomination back into the flame with the famous line: ''FUCK OFF!''. The volcano soon burnt out and has since been renovated by a lovely couple who have made it into a rather adorable estate with 70 odd bedrooms and 5 bathrooms).

Others suggested that it was a tree to the heavens and that it watched over all fields. They were mostly ignored.

The Chair was larger than life. The Chair was wooden but not a tree or a twig as those were quite small and, comparatively, the Chair was extremely very absurdly big.
The Chair simply was and always would be.

For generations, the protectors of the Chair had stood strong in an ever-changing world but now their land is changing beyond belief (which they should have expected due to the nature of the ever changing world in which they lived in).

The field had always been part of a much larger world comprised of thousands upon thousands of fields. Each field was its own little world, some big, some small, but every single one a world with inhabitants and a story, a life, sewed into it.

Times have changed this.

Now there were fewer fields and most had been forced to comply with what worked or die. Where once science and technological advances had been paramount there was now simply survival by any means.

This worked. It was a sad and empty existence for the worlds, but they remained and that, the Chair and the knowledge that jet fuel could not melt steel beams were all that mattered. 

What follows is how the worlds ended and how I ended up as the Lone Lord
of the Chair.