Furry Fortnite Fanfic: A Dire Situation

[GraywulfDaDolf]

Yeah, I made this at school once upon a time.

I said I was going to release it, so I'm going to do it here because

1. I don't know where else to put it
2. For the sake of simplicity.

DM me for the MS Word doc in case the formatting here f's up.

It was a dark and stormy night. Dire was traversing Tilted Towers. At least, what was left of it. The storm had been closing for the past few days, and the eye was nearing the formerly populated metropolis.

Most of the loopers are stuck in “battle royale”, an endless cycle of individual warfare. The ones who get knocked down and eliminated come back, just to either get eliminated again or to win the elusive Victory Crown.

Dire wasn’t one of the others; the people who follow the “hot spots” only to get eliminated seconds later. He searched the areas nobody went to, areas people forgot to loot. The areas the Bus didn’t go near.

He tightened his gloves and gripped his burst SMG. He fired a few warning shots, letting others know he was out and ready to roll. Nobody fired back.

Treading less carefully, he rushed into the park, searching for chests. It was not long before he tired himself out. Jumping into the bushes, he checked the center tree for any sort of hum or glow.

Eureka. A quiet, barely audible hum of a rare chest flanked his ears. What a time to still be alive. He opened the latch to inspect what the box contained.

He swapped out his uncommon burst SMG for an epic combat SMG and equipped himself with a medkit and some small shield potions. There was an uncommon scoped burst rifle, so he traded out his common hammer rifle. Dire wasn’t one to entertain himself with far-away combat. He was stealthy, stalking his prey like the lycanthrope he was. Then, when the mood set him, he struck.

There was nothing to strike, so what good was this instinct? The instinct of surprise, the lust of a worthy opponent to fight. What was this when he was alone, by himself, in a city that nobody was in? It was near dawn, but the inclement weather of the Storm helped dull his sight.

The Storm. He was near the Storm.

With only a few minutes and no vehicle to transport him, his heart started racing. His angst against the world heightened before eventually turning into panic. How was he supposed to leave in time?

Then he saw it. A Whiplash flashed before his eyes. The front was dented, but looks never mattered in a time of urgency. Besides, it made it look worn in a bit of a charming way.

He hopped in, turned the ignition, and took off. After being stuck in the town for around thirty seconds, he remembered the main route to get out. It was stupid to stay in the area for that amount of time, but it was one of the only things he knew he could do.

Dire fiddled around with the radio, seeing which stations were playing good music. Of course, there were the usuals: Lizzo, Playboi Carti, Tyler, Marshmello, and blackbear, to name a few. There were some collabs absolutely no one expected. After tuning it to that new Weezer EP, he felt a sense of strangeness overcome his body. Why is it that it’s the same playlist every time, on the same 7-8 stations?

Then he remembered the Loop. This situation was probably going to happen again in the next twenty-two minutes. Dire uttered to himself, “Maybe this is why Raider left the loop…”

A metallic pling noise came from the back-left side of the car. He used his handbrake to come to a stop, with the full mentality that this was a stupid thing to do. He chugged down the rest of his shield potion and stepped out of the car.

Gripping the assault rifle, he snarled, “Come out here! I’m a literal sitting duck right now! Come on!” Dire then deduced where the shot came from, and shot blindly.

The mysterious person retaliated, shooting from a bush near an outcropping. These belligerents were around a kilometer from Tilted Towers, but not safe from the Storm. It shot nowhere near Dire, but close enough to know that they were trying to hit him.

Dire knew that it was a heavy sniper, and that one shot, considering the shield he had, would eliminate him instantaneously. Drinking another shield potion would be futile at that point. Dire shot once again, hoping this time he’d land a hit.

The bulleted barrage hit the opponent, knocking off most of their shield. The sound of a shield potion alerted Dire exactly where they were.

Suddenly, a Storm Alert de-escalated the situation almost instantaneously. Now, the opponents were less worried of fighting and scavenging, but to flee and live to see another battle. Dire escaped into his ride, while the foe ran in a bee-line, away from the storm, before sliding away.

He couldn’t quite see the opponent, but it was what he did see that struck Dire’s attention. An orange fella wearing a deep cyan jumpsuit. At least, that was what it seemed like. No matter. The storm was riding his tail, and this thinking wouldn’t make the escape any faster. He took high-gear, away to the next point charted on the map.

[tydaze]

Oh, I see you have a strength at describing situations and actions! Reading this, it was easy to visualize everything that was happening very well. But I'm sorry to say, even as a Fortnite player I didn't find the story very interesting. You kind of just explained the sequence of events very literally and without much emotion or complexity to the character. I think if you could take your skill of making clear descriptions, and apply them to a plot with more of a sense of drama and intrigue, then you could write something really awesome.

[GraywulfDaDolf]

At 5/28/23 01:15 AM, tydaze wrote: Oh, I see you have a strength at describing situations and actions! Reading this, it was easy to visualize everything that was happening very well. But I'm sorry to say, even as a Fortnite player I didn't find the story very interesting. You kind of just explained the sequence of events very literally and without much emotion or complexity to the character. I think if you could take your skill of making clear descriptions, and apply them to a plot with more of a sense of drama and intrigue, then you could write something really awesome.

Yeah, I take that criticism. I can describe stuff in awesome detail, but I can't drive a good story to save my life. Originally, this was going to be a shitpost fanfic (as shown by the crappy intro) but it soon evolved into a really big, serious thing.

However, I meant it to be a more chapter based story, but I got carried away with uploading the story to Fur Affinity, and all but forgot that I uploaded it to the Writing Forum as well. (Yes, I've displeased Newgrounds, and eagerly await stoning or death by a thousand cuts.)

Anyways, I've taken this into consideration, and I will keep it in mind while writing chapter 4. In the meantime, you can read chapters 2 and 3, praying to God that I furthered the plot instead of writing a chronicled detail of events. (In my defense, however, I was one of those kids who grew up on a bunch of non-fiction books.)

[GraywulfDaDolf]

Chapter 2

(Quick reminder that this takes place during BR Chapter 3. FurAffinity Link)

After making it to the safe zone, Dire took some time to get aware of his surroundings. He turned off the radio, as one man can take Dove Cameron so many times before breaking. Besides, he needed to concentrate, and hearing about some girl’s boyfriend leaving her for another dude kinda gets boring after hearing it around a thousand times.

Then, he saw a landmark everyone knows. A boring house in the field. A plain house, modestly stored with meager materials nobody ever bothered to loot from.

“There’s got to be something here.” Dire stepped out of his car, but not before stretching himself. The Whiplash’s seats were a far cry from comfort, despite the looks of the exterior. The padding was barebones, the headrest was constricting, and the back had no tail accommodations. Furthermore, the legroom was laughable, just having room for foot pedals and a small footrest. Alas, a small price to pay for turbo boost.

After stepping foot inside the house, he spotted a large ammo box, filled with some ammunition and a consumable item. Dire unlocked this box to discover a big shield potion, and a few packets of various ammo cartridges.

Packing his inventory, he heard strange noises above his head. They sounded vaguely of footsteps, but also of wood creaking and cracking. Of course, this could have also been the timbers shaking due to the drafty, unrenovated structure of the house.

Dire loaded his guns, and checked upstairs to see if anything else was of value.

There was a chest, sitting on a large bed. Something about it seemed off though, as if the room was too barren. The bed was the only thing in the room, a room which should’ve had some more furnishings.

This room was trapped. Perhaps this room was rigged with remote explosives, or a live person waiting for the perfect time to strike. He looked up, and saw a shoddy wooden floor where the ceiling should have been. It was trapped alright. He stood still, waiting for the moment the person struck. To ambush, something Dire was good at. It takes a master to beat another master, to which would be less of skill and more of sheer wit. However, an ambush takes more caution when trying to play with your prey. You don’t make it obvious that someone was in here, but mess with their mind; that is, make them know something is there, but do not let them know where.

Clutching the sub-machine gun, Dire was ready for the surprise waiting for him. Much to his dismay, however, the surprise he was awaiting simply wasn’t there.

He knocked down the plank boards, only to discover a looted chest, and a gaping hole in the roof. From this hole, there was a launchpad built on some more plank boards, but a question remained: Where was he?

Looking up, Dire saw Recruit Jonesy gliding in the air. After taking a couple shots at him, Jonesy went into free-fall, before pulling back the glider and landing directly onto Dire’s Whiplash. He slid in, turned the key, and drove off.

“I just hope this guy likes Tate McRae or something.” Dire muttered under his breath. So much for stealth. He let his prey drive off, as he knew outwitting the predator was a feat on its own.

Wrapping up, Dire looted the rest of the house. He entered the garage, and saw an old Bear pickup truck. It was a monster of machined metal, the pinnacle of 80s engineering. Next to it, there was a red toolbox, containing some off-roading tires and a repair blowtorch. Throwing the tires onto the truck nonchalantly and without regard to how vehicle tires work, he outfitted the truck to be his next ride, to his next stop.

Of course, this would not be the end of his venture in the area. As soon as he drove out of the house, he spotted somebody riding a boar to his destination. Coming ever closer, Dire started to notice who the person on the porcine creature was; the predator setting his sights on the prey caught unawares.

He was orange, tailed, and outfitted with a dark-teal jumpsuit, just as the person shooting at him was. To his surprise, it was that same man-creature who tried to eliminate him at Tilted just a few minutes ago, now coming closer to his victim. Fennix.

[GraywulfDaDolf]

Chapter 3:

This one was the longest to write. You can tell by the way the tone shifts after a few whiles, into a more "memey" style of writing, back into a serious one. FurAffinity Link.



Fennix was coming closer and closer to his victim, charging as much as the pig could withstand. The vulpine then jumped off of the boar, and landed directly in the cargo backseat of Dire’s truck. Dire then pushed the throttle at full speed, not knowing what was going on. The truck burnt out, tires screeching, before taking off.

Pointing the assault rifle at the back of his head, Fennix growled, “Drive.”

“Where to?” Dire wasn’t the type of person to be scared of a hostage crisis, but the fact that he was still processing the events that happened only a few minutes ago was enough to set any werewolf over the edge, let alone literally every other person on the island.

Fennix, not thinking this far of what his motive would be, squeaked, “Uhhh, the Sanctuary.”

Dire stared at him for a couple seconds. What were this man’s motives? Was he just his disposable getaway driver, or could it be something more extreme?

“Step on it, punk.”

“Look,” Dire said, quasi-calmly, “This is literally as fast as this truck can go.”

Yes, a four-speed pickup truck meant to haul heavy objects was, in fact, slow. Dire started to think that maybe the person holding him hostage wasn’t quite smart. He was surprised himself to find that this truck had an overdrive transmission, albeit a manual one. However, even the silliest of people would find that complaining about things like vehicle features

would be petty in situations like these.

Fennix then growled at him, with his gold-orange eyes shining brightly through the window and into the rear-view mirror. “I don’t care how fast this truck goes, and I don’t care about how much gas you have. And I certainly don’t care about how you’re feeling about me holding you at gunpoint. All you have to do is get to the sanctuary before the storm gets there first. Just get me there, and we won’t have any more problems, m’kay?”

Okay, just “disposable getaway driver.” The Storm wasn’t anywhere near Point A or Point B, and with the heavy-duty tires, it would be possible to make it there, and possibly back again. But this wasn’t a world where you could make a Tolkien reference and have everyone get it. No, this was a world where words such as “dogwater” were used unironically, and rationality went out the window. Dire wasn’t the type of person to do either of these. He just stuck to one thing, that thing being hunting. Hunting for his next victim, to eliminate the next one he put his sights on.

Yes, that “grindset” he had been performing for the past near half-decade, without thinking anything of it. Dire felt that it would be necessary to escape the loop, as doing the same thing over and over would be tiring to anybody in existence. How to do so was the problem. It had been around a few years since Renegade Raider left the Loop, and one can forget a lot of specific details. For something like this, it was necessary to remember all of the details. Of course, most other details were left forgotten as well.

The drive was boring, which is typical when you’re being held hostage. The only noises were of far-away gunfire, fauna trying to attack the truck, the sound of the motor trying its hardest to get there, and the constant rapping of the rifle muzzle against the back window glass.

“Are we there yet?” Dire asked, mockingly.

Fennix stared at him, like he knew what he was doing. He checked the map, marked it a few times, and pointed his gun

to the right, above a hill.

Turning the wheel to that direction, Dire had an even stranger feeling about what was going to happen. Could they have

the same idea on what they were doing?

It had been a few minutes before anybody willed themselves to speak. It had been mutual understanding and nonverbal communication that guided Dire to his destination, as well as the geolocator map that was affixed to the windscreen. Yes, a "head-up display" that was present in everybody's view, giving waypoint beacons and bearing to where-ever they were at. Of course, this wasn't of use, as they had been following the road. (This may be because it's faster, and the author wants to increase the word count of this fanfiction.)

“Okay, should I stop the car, or…”

Fennix nodded at the door. Dire threw it open, and Fennix threw himself into the passenger seat, with such acrobatics only the nimblest of anthropomorphic foxes could muster. He turned to Dire, and threw him a small shield pot. Dire, confused, took this as a sign of pitied respect, as if he was sorry for him. He started drinking it, but abruptly stopped as soon as he saw Fennix reload his assault rifle.

Why in the world would anybody use a hammer rifle, in this current age? Dire was perplexed by his game style. He ran around, camping people like they were scraps. He was basically culling the crop of players who couldn’t/didn’t participate “properly.” Being proper, in his sense, meaning to win that Victory Crown in any way imaginable.

On the topic of “imaginable,” the Sanctuary was up ahead. It was a harrowing glyph of architecture, headed by one “Imagined Order.” They were a force to be reckoned with, and in this place, they made sure everybody could reckon them. In essence, they were trying to fight the omnipotent power of creation. They were the people who created The Loop.

Dire finished his potion, and Fennix promptly reloaded his gun. Nobody was around. A peaceful time, one where nothing was going on. They took a breath of relief.

Fennix put his hand on Dire’s shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

[Fantas1]

At 5/23/23 07:09 PM, GraywulfDaDolf wrote: Yeah, I made this at school once upon a time.
I said I was going to release it, so I'm going to do it here because
DM me for the MS Word doc in case the formatting here f's up.

It was a dark and stormy night. Dire was traversing Tilted Towers. At least, what was left of it. The storm had been closing for the past few days, and the eye was nearing the formerly populated metropolis.

Most of the loopers are stuck in “battle royale”, an endless cycle of individual warfare. The ones who get knocked down and eliminated come back, just to either get eliminated again or to win the elusive Victory Crown.

Dire wasn’t one of the others; the people who follow the “hot spots” only to get eliminated seconds later. He searched the areas nobody went to, areas people forgot to loot. The areas the Bus didn’t go near.

He tightened his gloves and gripped his burst SMG. He fired a few warning shots, letting others know he was out and ready to roll. Nobody fired back.

Treading less carefully, he rushed into the park, searching for chests. It was not long before he tired himself out. Jumping into the bushes, he checked the center tree for any sort of hum or glow.
Eureka. A quiet, barely audible hum of a rare chest flanked his ears. What a time to still be alive. He opened the latch to inspect what the box contained.

He swapped out his uncommon burst SMG for an epic combat SMG and equipped himself with a medkit and some small shield potions. There was an uncommon scoped burst rifle, so he traded out his common hammer rifle. Dire wasn’t one to entertain himself with far-away combat. He was stealthy, stalking his prey like the lycanthrope he was. Then, when the mood set him, he struck.

There was nothing to strike, so what good was this instinct? The instinct of surprise, the lust of a worthy opponent to fight. What was this when he was alone, by himself, in a city that nobody was in? It was near dawn, but the inclement weather of the Storm helped dull his sight.

The Storm. He was near the Storm.

With only a few minutes and no vehicle to transport him, his heart started racing. His angst against the world heightened before eventually turning into panic. How was he supposed to leave in time?

Then he saw it. A Whiplash flashed before his eyes. The front was dented, but looks never mattered in a time of urgency. Besides, it made it look worn in a bit of a charming way.

He hopped in, turned the ignition, and took off. After being stuck in the town for around thirty seconds, he remembered the main route to get out. It was stupid to stay in the area for that amount of time, but it was one of the only things he knew he could do.

Dire fiddled around with the radio, seeing which stations were playing good music. Of course, there were the usuals: Lizzo, Playboi Carti, Tyler, Marshmello, and blackbear, to name a few. There were some collabs absolutely no one expected. After tuning it to that new Weezer EP, he felt a sense of strangeness overcome his body. Why is it that it’s the same playlist every time, on the same 7-8 stations?

Then he remembered the Loop. This situation was probably going to happen again in the next twenty-two minutes. Dire uttered to himself, “Maybe this is why Raider left the loop…”

A metallic pling noise came from the back-left side of the car. He used his handbrake to come to a stop, with the full mentality that this was a stupid thing to do. He chugged down the rest of his shield potion and stepped out of the car.
Gripping the assault rifle, he snarled, “Come out here! I’m a literal sitting duck right now! Come on!” Dire then deduced where the shot came from, and shot blindly.

The mysterious person retaliated, shooting from a bush near an outcropping. These belligerents were around a kilometer from Tilted Towers, but not safe from the Storm. It shot nowhere near Dire, but close enough to know that they were trying to hit him.
Dire knew that it was a heavy sniper, and that one shot, considering the shield he had, would eliminate him instantaneously. Drinking another shield potion would be futile at that point. Dire shot once again, hoping this time he’d land a hit.
The bulleted barrage hit the opponent, knocking off most of their shield. The sound of a shield potion alerted Dire exactly where they were.

Suddenly, a Storm Alert de-escalated the situation almost instantaneously. Now, the opponents were less worried of fighting and scavenging, but to flee and live to see another battle. Dire escaped into his ride, while the foe ran in a bee-line, away from the storm, before sliding away.

He couldn’t quite see the opponent, but it was what he did see that struck Dire’s attention. An orange fella wearing a deep cyan jumpsuit. At least, that was what it seemed like. No matter. The storm was riding his tail, and this thinking wouldn’t make the escape any faster. He took high-gear, away to the next point charted on the map.

how did you get the idea of making this

[GraywulfDaDolf]

At 7/12/23 09:48 AM, Fantas1 wrote: how did you get the idea of making this

I was bored as hell, and I had this in-group joke where Fennix and Dire had an frenemy arc. So I wrote it, showed it to my friends, and then I decided to post it on the internet a few months later. (Hence why it takes place around Chapter 3)

As mentioned above, it was/is a shitpost, but it'd be a bit unfufilling if I left it on a cliffhanger. Otherwise, I have no goal in making this, and I really hope I don't lose a job later in life if some guy found my Newgrounds profile and saw that I wrote a furry fortnite fanfiction.