Prologue: Killer Shaman

The room was dark all around. There was a only single beam of light, concentrated on the group of mice gathered in front of the mouse-hole. They were whisper nervously, glancing around.

"He's going to get us!" one cried out suddenly. The murmurs grew more panicked and suddenly, all sounds stopped. A string of pawsteps came from above their heads. "No way," another one breathed, "He's above us, how could he have gotten there without us knowing?"

"He's one of the Dark, of course he could do it. He probably used his black magic..." came the reply uncertainly.

"He's coming run, run for your lives!" the shriek spliced through the stillness of the room and all Hell broke loose. The mice were in chaos, pelting around dodging, jumping and swerving to avoid the turrent all canon balls that were being fired at them.

Some mice accidentally ran in the wrong direction in the panic and they fell into the water, erupting into bubbles. They were the lucky ones.

The rest of the mice were all blasted away by the Killer Totem. Canon balls shot out from everywhere, slamming into mice painfully and shoving them into the lethal waters. They never came back, not even after the round was over.

Only two survived the massacre when the timer froze the game. Time was up. Just when they could heave a sigh of relieve, they saw it.

They saw the murderer.

It was a Shaman, of course. But instead of having blue markings on his body, the markings on his fur were red.

Blood red.

Even though the mice were suppose to be frozen in motion, the Shaman could still move. It, or he, launched a single canon ball that shoved the two petrified mice into the water.

And they died.

Forever.