It was a stormy day, age old trees bending to the will of the wind, Jim „Bigtoe“ Jackson, who earned his name after a heroic feat he performed showing the prowess of his big toe, saving the Queen from certain demise, she was suffering from terrible hysteria and about to succumb to the agony, how he cured her ailments is shrouded in mystery however.
Bigtoe woke up like every morning, alone in his cave by the waterfall in which many a foolish adventurer stumbled never to return back into the misty forest. Bigtoe would never take a bride like other lions would, he was a werelion, a proud one, one that still followed the codex. He was no dog like those werewolves from the other company who would make some unfortunate lady their bitch just so she would fix them bacon and eggs in the morning, Bigtoe lived a simpler life, just a yoghurt in the morning and maybe later in the day a peasant for dinner. One could say he lived the good life of a faithful werelion.
But this morning was different, His fridge stood open, the smell of rotten something in the air, a zombiegoat! he thought, but no, it must have been something he had forgotten about in the depth of his fridge, maybe the rabbit head he kept for giggles, but in this moment he cared more for his precious yoghurt, a few empty, plastic cups lay around, and a mysterious trail leading away from the fridge to the cave exit, which was carefully decorated with beautiful figurines made from bones crudely tied together with air-dried pork-sausages, Bigtoe liked to think of himself as an artist when it came to figurine-tying with pork-sausages. The peasants called it witchcraft, he did not care, but his beloved figurines were all smeared with dried yoghurt, defiled, and his yoghurt lost. Tears formed on the bottom of Bigtoe’s eye sockets, but he knew better than to cry. Bigtoe was a werelion after all, and werelions do not cry, never, ever, so he roared, loud and deep, roaring so hard that the eggs fell from the nests of their puny bird parents all over the forest, and Bogtoe started rampaging towards the town, where he ate everybody, including the Queen, the very Queen he once saved, he even felt guilty for a moment but his grief over the lost yoghurt stash sat deep in his wounded heart and after all he was a werelion, werelions do not grief, so he returned back to his cave in the misty forest and ordered more yoghurt online.