aka Forest or 'FF'

  • I live in Virginia(by the ocean)
  • I was born on December 5
  • My occupation is Artist, poet, college student, maintenance worker, Christian, family man, and country rustic -- formerly cityboy and beachbum
  • I am Male
  • ForrestFighter


    It started several years back, around the year 2006. Our family lived in

    Jacksonville, North Carolina, at the time. My older brothers were into this book series

    called Redwall that a few other families attending our church were also interested in.

    These books told tales of brave and heroic animals such as mice, fighting for peace and

    freedom against evil, cruelty, and tyranny. These tales revolved around an old sandstone

    fortress called Redwall Abbey—a place of safety for those in need of a shelter. Redwall,

    a haven of peace surrounded by the vastness of Mossflower woods; an envied dream to many

    defeated warlords. It might sound childish, but my brothers loved it, and because I

    wanted to do what they did, I tried to like this Redwall ser…

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  • ForrestFighter

    Hello. This page is one of several that I've wanted to make for a while now. In this page, I hope to express my thoughts on the parts of the book that either impress me(as being well-written and coordinated) or don't make sense to me. Essentially, this is a critique/appraisal.

    I will first start off by saying that whatever I might say about the book Triss that is derogatory, I still think it is a very fine book and one of Brian Jacques' "classics". I strongly recommend it as an overall well-written book.

    • The first point I want to make about the book, that I consider is a/the confusing paradox of the book, involves the abilities of the character Trisscar herself. My query is this: if Princess Kurda had grown up around and using sabres and all…

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  • ForrestFighter

    Wanted Freedom

    April 15, 2011 by ForrestFighter

    • Book I: The Callous One
    • Book II:
    • Book III:


     Thirteen large, sinewy figures trudged stealthily through the heather and gorse studded plain as the sun shown new rays of light upon the blossoming, new spring morn'. Most of this was lost upon the captive hedgehog, who's pitiful, yet regal form stumbled stolidly on, remonstrating on his captivity by the merciless group of spiked savages. He thought back bitterly to his days of youthful pleasure, when his father, chief of the SpikeDen and its tibes, had lectured and scolded him for his foolish pranks and such late-night escapades. It was on one venture, that he, Andro Gildin, found himself in the cruel clu…

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