Prologue


Throgmottens was once a happy place... It had once been the joy of the town, a happy shelter for wayward or otherwise homeless pets. This building had been a blessing, providing jobs for the jobless and finding homes for all the abandoned children.

The mayor of the town had only the best construction team work on the building- It was made from a new concept of all cement to stay sturdy during any storm and it was painted a friendly cream color which melted into the clouds right before sunset.

A gardener was hired to plant bright, colorful flowers around the outside of the building which grew more beautiful as the days went by, and the best food available was donated to the home to feed the hungry mouths which never seemed to go hungry any more. Atop the building was an enormous sign which towered over the rest of the town. Large, friendly letters exclaimed "ADOPT TODAY!" upon the sign and many obeyed, and many pets found new homes.

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But times change, Throgmottens survived generation to generation, but ownerships were sold and managements were changed. Throgmottens grew old, the paint chipped, the vibrant letters faded into not-so-friendly letters, the flowers died out and the donations grew less and less.

Now the food was scarce and the building became a less pleasant place to live. The children did grow hungry from time to time, the staff was being paid less so they tended to be short tempered or unloyal to their jobs. The town itself was slowly dieing out, poverty and disease had swept over many houses a while ago and people frim the town, and most surrounding towns as well dumped their youngest pets onto the street.

Soon the wealthier, kinder owners began to show up less often and the new race of n00bs began pouring through the gates of Throgmottens and capturing the unsuspecting pets, usually those rarer than others... Though no matter how bad it had become at Throgmottens it stayed as the option preferred over the street where the young pet's starved, were beaten, and often died.

Chapter One


The trashcan fell and Duibheas threw his paws over his face to protect himself from any loose can lids or shards of glass as he and the metal cylinder tumbled down the alleyway until it hit the wall. Dizzy from the loud noise of metal on brick, and as well as rolling down a steep hill in a trashcan, the young draik heaved himself out of the garbage. He sat down for a moment, busily brushing the scraps of paper and moldy crumbs off of his beautiful darigan pelt.

Many would wonder how a pet as rare as a draik, especially one adorned with the color of darigan, would end up living off the streets and eating out of the trash. Sometimes Duibheas wondered that too, but right now his main concern was finding something to eat. He hurriedly rummaged through the trash scattered on the ground, his eyes scanned for any scrap of food that was carelessly tossed from an over portioned plate. After examining the pile and the now empty trash can, and after sampling some of those moldy crumbs, he gave up and limped out of the alley.

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The streets were rough on pets. The older neopets were usually stronger and faster, therefore they could get to all the food that was thrown out before the little ones could, or if not before they could easily take it straight from their hands. But luckily as the pet's got older, they got greedier and more idiotic in their ways and were liable to miss some scraps as they fought over an overcooked burger or a once bitten poultry leg.

Unfortunately things weren't always that easy, for big pets and little pets alike. It wasn't uncommon to see a pet of, litterally, skin and bones laying dead on the street being eaten by the equally hungry flies. Friends were very scarce among the street urchins. The battle for food kept them constantly paranoid and untrusting of others, and no one wanted to risk the psychological damage of befriending someone who might die the next day. However, this didn't stop the pets from knowing nearly every other pet's name who lived on the street.

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Heya Dub." Said a small blue lupe as she crawled out from a large garbage bin in the back of an old italian restaurante. She was using the nickname that Duibheas was given when he was even younger- an older pet had taken a piece of meat from him and as he had tried with all his might his short arms hadn't been able to reach the meat now going into this other pet's mouth. After swallowing the meat the pet had laughed and called "Look at his little arms! Just like nubs" He let out another laugh "Duibheas' nubs! Dub's nubs!" Dub had cried that day but the nickname had stuck.

Nothing here..." The lupe reported, dissapointedly. Dub smiled at her. "I got nothing either.' He replied. This small lupe was the closest thing to a friend he had- maybe he was her friend but Dub knew that it couldn't be true, because nobody on the street made friends. However, she had been there to stand up for him when he got his nickname, she had helped him get food when he nearly starved, and it was she who patted him on the back when he cried.

They walked out of the alley together and Dub began talking in an exited tone "But really Shela! You wouldn't believe what I found today!" He pulled out of his pocket a rusty tryannian mechafish "Look!" He exclaimed "This plate is missing and you can see the wires and gears and everything!" Shela laughed at his enthusiasm. "I don't get what you love about those gizmos Dub" She told him, amused. Dub merely shrugged it off and continued his walk with her. And then she collapsed...

To be continued...