In the middle of the desert, on top of a hoodoo, was a sandstone pedestal that proudly held the secluded city of the Frontier. The civilians were a city of Things, but a not so modest group of them that enjoyed being useful as much as possible. There were other groups of Things on the neighboring mesa, sure, but the Things of the Frontier were far more advanced. So that made them more interesting and important. The Things of the Frontier say their success comes from two main factors:
- They traded with outsiders but never ever let any in!
Which meant:
- Their simple social scale! You’re either Nothing or you’re Something! If you were broken and useless, you were considered a Nothing. If you were the best in your job field, you’d become Something!
Technically there were a myriad of other subclasses but being Something was all the rage. Everything in the Frontier looked up to the Somethings and wanted to be a Something. Why wouldn’t you want to be the best? Respect? Glamour? The best pick of the fancy houses? Isn’t your whole life meant to revolve around accomplishment?
Recently, however, the Citizens weren’t so sure anymore. One of their Somethings had gone missing! The Frontier was secluded and they were important! How could they just vanish? If a Thing as important as a Something could go missing with no notice, what could happen to them as a lesser Thing?
“Never in the history of the Frontier has everything come together like this before!” rang the radio host’s voice throughout the Frontier. He would’ve been pleased to hear himself through all the open windows and doors. All on his channel. “I, Quincy the Something of Broadcasting, - who is always on your side- is at your service to tell you the latest about the missing case we call the ‘Derby Disappearance’ about that new hire- Derby H. Bowler! It seems, once again, that I have no news for you! Our leader, Frederick Fedora, ain’t said peep and let me tell you, this is getting rough for everything here in the Frontier!”
No news today once more. Things of all classes were gathered around the fountain in the courtyard of the Somethings headquarters. It was a grand, giant building in the center of town that was surrounded by the finest sandstone on the pedestal. It was ornately carved with the history of the Frontier and metal plates signed with previous leaders, Somethings, and other outstanding Things of Frontier history.
Things that were broken, Things that were elaborately decorated, Things that were still dirty from work - They were all here. All except the Somethings and their Leader who holed himself away.
A higher class Thing who was the shape of a broom, twirled their fancy parasol and sniffed judgmentally. “Hmf! If a Something goes missing does their leader make a sound? I think not.” scoffed Broomington. “I mean really? What’s the point of going through all that work if you’re not guaranteed security!”
“That’s because our hero, Frederick Fedora, is a joke! Who'da thunk that old relic of a hero would cower now?” said the Strangely Strong Spork. He flexed his biceps in anger.
“It’s because Derby was a Nothing!” spat Hammy the Hammer. “REMEMBER. Those nepotistic wash rags wanted only their friends apart of their little group-”
“I take offense to that.” said Washragginton.
She continued. “Now they’re gone! POOF! It’s no coincidence. The higher ups don’t want anything lower than them to be Something.”
“Whaddya mean? They were another one of Frederick’s ‘heroic and charitable’ ideas to make the Frontier a ‘better’ place!” said the Strangely Strong Spork. His triceps shivered down to his quads. “We didn’t want that Raptor or that criminal Farthing! He’s trying to change up our whole system!”
“He even let them work for the Somethings, despite our protests.” huffed Broomington. “Is Frederick even listening to us?!”
Wolf Warriors is my fanfiction series that I make through animatics, small info videos and occasional text posts. It has no formal format. It simply is in whatever medium I feel like. You're welcome to just watch the videos or go through the posts if you feel like learning more!
Currently we are in the Foam Rage plot that you can watch here:
Or on this tumblr
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 7 · WOLF WARRIORS
The Impossible Task
Chapter 1: Part 1
First / Next
About: Madguts wants to have a proper relationship wit
The story itself takes place after Book 12 and has no association with Dragons by DreamWorks. If Cowell writes more books, I probably will not add them to my story. It depends. For now, I only follow the canon of books 1-12.
More about the story and background below!
Foam Rage Story: The war is over and love is in the air... In a formal chief sort of way. With the Wolf Warriors back alongside the Vikings, Madguts has also revealed he was on all along. He also has an eye out for his royal claim, after he marries Mewgull the Wolf Warrior princess, of course. First he has to complete the Impossible Task, which has a severe catch set by an old nemesis of his... his future(but dead) brother-in-law.
Go into the Uglithug territory, just by Bloodspilt Bay and find the old Wolf Warrior home. Simple right?
Suddenly the whole Archipelago seems interested in helping Madguts out. Afterall, it must be because he's a stand up guy with no enemies whatsoever.
Please note: My story animatics are all rough drafts. I am not a studio. I am a single person. I also do not have a computer. I use an iPad and it cannot handle a lot of elaborate images in one file. Id also like to have the story published at some point in my lifetime. Im not aiming for the most amazing graphics, just decent story telling and entertainment for others. To be honest, I already want to scrap it and startover but I might as well keep going. Keep adding more to the pile and hope it sorts itself out somehow LOL
WW Backstory: Hello, my name is Hatman. Ive been obsessed with HTTYD since 2007. I was at the height of my wolf phase and made a fan fiction as most undiagnosed kids do. It was dramatic, edgy, and all the things most 12 yr olds fanfictions were. As I got older I stopped drawing it but I kept working on it in my head. I reread the books in 2022 in full for the first time in years and it made me realize - who cares? Im gonna make it.
It has been very healing to work on it and bring something my young self from all those years ago would enjoy. I certainly hope you do as well.
I like drawing in pen ^///^ And yes I drew mr.hatman 2 time. why? hehehe HAHAHA!! Because I bugs @mscreepygreen20. But please don't bug her with mister hatman. I was the creator of him and mr.meow-mix. And there are the Ginga siblings, mugman's head, jacksepticeye, and Daray and Fefe. Daray - @xxwafflexx, @xxxpancakesxxx, and @xxbaeconxx
You maybe inclined to call them objectheads but they call themselves 'Things'. They're animate objects! The origin of the term is unknown and many meanings have applied to it. However, it always refer to the people known as 'Things'.
Ok, but what are Things?
They can be any object from our world. They tend to be items from the same time period or older. Rarely, they are raw food items, i.e., Douglas Coir.
Grammar
Things do not refer to imanimate objects as 'Things'. Things refer to themselves with the term since they're sentient. Objects are referred to as 'stuff, it, item, etc.' Terms like "Something", "Nothing", and "Anything".
The terms below and primarily used in the Frontier and not used on the Mesa. Still, they stand as examples of how terms with 'thing' carry weight in their world.
Something - a very important Thing in the Frontier. The Somethings are their own organization.
Nothing - a Thing who is of no status, broken or generally disliked
Farthing - a Thing who travels or lives far from the Frontier, outsiders on the Mesa don't use this term for themselves. The term is a bit convulded in modern times since now it can also mean nothing or an outlaw who is a Thing.
Fun facts:
- They primarily live on the Grand Mesa in a city called the Frontier
- They don't really have a concept of genders, but think pronouns are dandy
- They take great care of their possessions and would rather fix it than toss it
The fedora, the raptor and the mug had been ungraciously plopped onto the base of the Frontier’s Pedestal. On the safe side of the Frontier’s gates was the entire population where they formed a wall to face the renounced Things (and Raptor). They glowered in an ominous silence but above all their heads, squirming to the front was Douglas Coir, loyal as ever. He handed a backpack to Frederick.
“It was the best I could do on short notice.” he said to his Leader. The citizens started swarming around him and pushing him back. His voice grew fainter and he called out “It’s not much, my good friend, but it should help you until you get to Mesatown. Please be careful!”
Frederick desperately wanted to thank him but Douglas was pulled back into the crowd of Things before he could say a word.
“You!” gnashed the citizens. “The Things of the Frontier have grown tired of your outsider ways and your new ideas! We knew it was bad to have an outsider lead us and you have proven our anxieties right, Frederick Fedora!”
“He’s not even a fedora! He’s a trilby!” interjected a random Thing.
“Actually I might be half trilby, but they named us after we look liked most in the orphanage.” corrected Frederick, the assumed Fedora.
There was silence from the crowd which meant they were probably listening now. Coughy hacked a spit wad at the crowd but Frederick caught it, flung it onto the ground, then spoke slowly with as much warmth he could manage to the mob. “I’m truly sorry about what happened to Derby. I froze up like a coward in a time when the Frontier needed me.”
“You’re a good-for-NOTHING.”
“I am good for the ‘Nothings’! Let’s not forget all the good that’s happened since I’d been here! Your roads were repaved, your schools and museums better funded, the Things you call Nothings are fewer because of better health c-”
“You brought a Raptor into the Frontier!” shouted a citizen.
“Illiteracy and starvation is nearly zero percent! Crime rates have nearly disappeared!” countered Frederick.
“You brought a criminal into the Frontier!” shouted another.
“I have given chances to those who deserved it!”
“These outsiders were brought into the Frontier and now the trouble we feared has happened! Now Derby has suffered the consequences! And why?” snapped one.
“To show the Frontier that the outside world is not what it seems. Raptors are not feral monsters and neither are the Things out there! They’re just people! All of them.” explained Frederick.
“Pe-ople?” slowly pronounced one of the younger Things.
An older citizen hacked then spat onto the ground. “Put that cursed Farthing term back in your mouth and take it with you into the Grand Mesa!”
The now ex-leader of the Frontier bellowed out. “But Derby is still out there and alive! I assure you because I know who took them!”
The Things of the Frontier ignored him and all turned to leave. The gates of the Frontier started to close. The iron used was ancient and still strong. Perhaps at one point, they were meant for welcoming and letting large amounts of Things in and out. However, they were now used so little that they ached and grumbled from moving as if they were complaining about being closed once again. Now, they would stay shut for who knows how long.
Just before the gates crashed shut, together the Things of the Frontier firmly stated their terms.
Away from the chaos and in the middle of who-knows-where was a scene that was quite the opposite of the Frontier’s situation. Non-chaotic, calm and overall more peaceful. Though, it wasn’t comforting in the slightest for one lonely, terrified derby hat. The visual memories of what happened before were vague but the feeling of being gripped by the back of their blazer just as they were opening the door to leave for work was hard to forget. Then life was all dark, different and miserable from there.
Derby H. Bowler, the beloved Something who was missing from the Frontier, had never been so miserable before. They’d been tossed from hidey hole to hidey hole since they were taken from their home. This time they were in a narrow room that had been carved into the wall of a cavern deep underground. It wasn’t much different than the others, but this spot was the worst one yet. They thought the dark was bad but the humidity and cold was so much worse! Water trickled down the walls in wide, flat waterfalls. The floor was never dry and there was no way to keep warm. Their blazer was soaked all the way through and hung like a damp rag on their body. There were moth-eaten linens in a pile of untidy wood that might’ve once been part of a bed. A bucket for certain uses and…certainly used! Yuck! The only upside was a large funnel of light that shone through a hole in the ceiling of the cavern and fluttered all the way down outside of their cell, but it was just out of Derby’s reach. There were no bars to keep them in their cell and the entrance was a doorless wooden frame, but what kept them in was lurking just outside.
Derby was used to always being in the sunlight or in lamp lit rooms. Their favorite place in their home was next to the fireplace in their favorite robe and reading a book. There was no point in being in the dark for Derby. How were they supposed to read or write that way? Now they were stuck in it with this humidity and cold. They were even too exhausted to feel anxiety.
Derby H. Bowler was an observant and imaginative hat. This was enough to make Something and they tried to prove that with any action. No matter how small. They didn’t consider themselves a scientist, but merely an observer who drew in the world and tried to understand it. Maybe that did make them one? Derby shook their brim and edged as close as they dared to the door frame.
Outside their cell was a mess of a mine. Whatever happened to make it be abandoned now must’ve happened in a horrible hurry. It just wasn’t in the nature of the Things to let their inanimate counterparts be left to time. In a place like the Frontier, objects were mended when broken or repurposed even if the Things themselves were not. It was a place where their children didn’t bash mailboxes or break their neighbors windows. If they were angry, they didn’t ruin what others owned unless they wanted to do irreversible damage to that relationship. Besides, they had other ways to hurt each other, very hurtful ways besides property damage that were more common. If it ever came to damaging their environment, they were probably at their wit’s end.
Derby’s chest ached at the site of the pickaxes gathering rust and old coats on pegs getting moldy. Just outside the door frame was a broken chair and next to it, on a stump of stalagmite, lay a rather handsome metal cigarette case with elaborate embossings and the letters MTM on the cover. Black markings on the cave ceiling told Derby this was a common smoking spot for whoever was here before.
A figure rushed past their vision with a shriek that sent them scrambling deeper into their cell again. Right. The Raptors. Oh well, to Derby it didn’t matter how well acquainted they became with a place when they were tossed around so often. The switches happened so frequently that whenever a large canvas bag was presented, they would obediently crawl inside. By this point they stopped trying to figure out where they were going or what was happening. Derby couldn’t tell exactly what their situation was. Kidnapped? Yes. Imprisoned? Yes. They couldn’t tell you for what or why.
It wasn’t for a lack of trying to find out. However, their captors never responded. All they knew was that their captors were Raptors. At first they were afraid of being eaten or tossed off the edge of the Grand Mesa, but it’d been awhile and neither of those seemed plausible. How would a Raptor eat a hat anyway?
The hat shook the details out of their hat shaped head and focused on the Raptor shaped problem just outside the doorway.
Back home, the talk of Raptors only ever drew the hat’s curiosity when the Things discussed topics such as how they hunted animals instead of growing food. That sounded like so much effort. Why chase your food when you could pick it off a vine? The main obstacle with growing food was needing fertile soil and water but it wasn’t impossible. Even in the desert there were sources of water and fertile soil could be made. Wasn’t it easier to grow food instead of going through the effort of chasing and killing?
Derby’s curiosity made them impartial to a lot of topics that should’ve made them MUCH more partial. Throughout this whole situation, they were constantly studying their captors and keeping mental notes. If only being kidnapped came with a pen and paper.
These Raptors never seemed interested in hurting the Thing, only making sure that they didn’t run away, not that Derby would dare attempt to test that theory out. What information did they know for certain about Raptors? All they read was heavily biased sources, so the only source they could trust was from their own experiences. So, that meant gaining perspective from the only Raptor they ever saw which was Caesar Swift of the Somethings.
From what they could see, the Raptors’ demeanors proved them to be nimble, speedy, and potentially cruel. Caesar was slow and rather clumsy, but he also seemed to be in poor health. These Raptors were nearly as tall as Derby, making them rather average, while Caesar was far shorter. They were slender, but not emaciated as Caesar. Did Raptors really have different species? It seemed much more obvious now.
It would’ve been easier if Derby could’ve seen the Raptors in the light but they always hid in the shadows of the cavern. There was no way to tell what they looked like beyond their silhouettes.
The Raptors chatted to each other in some sort of strange language as they pounced around and played games with each other. The gaggle of Raptors would giggle, speaking in hushed tones as if spreading some nasty rumors to each other. Learning languages made Derby very self conscious. They could never seem to understand. Linguistics was also not a subject Derby favored so they they tried to blend into the background by ignoring them and drawing in the sand or fidget with a stone.
It was especially annoying when they all started shrieking in what Derby guessed was some kind of laughter. They had liked to believe that they were telling each other jokes but they knew deep down the Raptors were making fun of them.
What choice but to slump against the wall and watch the silhouettes of those nimble Raptors lay across rocks or dance about in the shadows. Derby even tried to count how many there was in their pack or clan or whatever Raptors lived in. There were several attempts but they moved around so much that it was impossible to tell.
Of all the concerns, Derby now thought of how their suit was ruined. This was the new suit that had been tailored specifically for their new job! It was a shame to ruin a suit that was so new yet already held so much sentimental value. Derby H. Bowler was finally Something. Derby wished they could’ve worked there long enough to rub it in the faces of those at the orphanage, their old jobs, their old foster parents, the whole Frontier! They were a Nothing that became Something! They were the most useful, the most important, the-…Well, what good was being Something of Archives when you were trapped in the bottom of a mine?
Mining! That must mean there were Things here! Not in a very long time that is, but perhaps one may stumble upon the derby in despair and rescue them? Wait, no! That wouldn’t be good! If this is mining territory then they were nowhere near the Frontier, not even Mesatown! That means any of the Things were Farthings! The last situation Derby needed to be in was in the hands of Raptors and then immediately fall into the hands of rowdy outlaws.
However, maybe they were like Frederick! Frederick was once a Farthing and he turned around! He became a Leader which made him the leader of the Somethings! That meant he was the best of anything. Somehow, that thought didn’t sit comfortably with Derby for some reason. They never had a thought like that before. Farthings were automatic Nothings, but Frederick wasn’t. Perhaps they did have thoughts like that before but they passed by so quickly that Derby forgot about them.
This time they wouldn’t just pass. Derby Bowler had no choice but to think since that was all there was to do. The only other tasks they could distract themselves with were tracing their index finger in the sand, making tiny stacks of balanced stones, or rocking back and forth when the thoughts got louder. This type of inner monologue wasn’t the usual process when they did this but it was the only action that could help. For some reason, Derby found crying difficult. So rocking they did as their new reality brought on controversial thoughts.
