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The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

Posted May 19, '11 at 8:01pm

thoadthetoad

thoadthetoad

5,814 posts

IT wasn't until today that Cen told me I was supposed to throw in my entry. Now I know. So I shall do that now.

 

Posted May 20, '11 at 8:15am

Strop

Strop

11,085 posts

Moderator

Did you guys get my entry? I sent it in yesterday >___>


I got it, but it was hard to read on my phone so I'll send you proper feedback tomorrow!

I'm just a cameo right? And will my story be illustrated?


Yes, and not at this current moment, but certainly it will make an illustrated appearance sometime...

IT wasn't until today that Cen told me I was supposed to throw in my entry. Now I know. So I shall do that now.


Awesome.

Just finished my cover, tomorrow I pray that it will be sufficiently quiet for me to finish the next parts!
 

Posted May 21, '11 at 11:30am

Strop

Strop

11,085 posts

Moderator

Okay. UPDATE TIEM. The plot thickens!

Miracle Drug

Despite the all-out assault on the whole of the city, the Cathedral still stood intact. Whether one would call it a miracle, a selective kind of divine intervention, or simply the fact that nobody cared about the antiquated piece of Gothic architecture enough to lob rocks at it when the Aristocrat Alley was ripe for the ruining just a stone's throw yonder...

The air hung cool and heavy, with the same timeless, and empty quality as always. Over and under the pews, saturating the felt carpet that lined the aisle all the way to the lectern, and behind that, the sacred altar. Or, at least what was left of it, for the giant clocktower bell was still lodged mightily in the ground where it used to be, for none of the self-titled monks that kept the Cathedral were capable of lifting or working out how to lift it out of the ground and repair the damage wrought all the way back from the dodgeball round...

A shadow crouched before the bell, its head bowed, hands clasped, mimicking the clasped hand of Mary in the stain glass window, bowed before Jesus on the cross. Then its long, pointy horse ears twitched.

"Dan," Strop began, then straightened. "Naw. That would be blasphemy. But," he mused to himself. "We could all do with some divine intervention right about now. Divine intervention in our favour, that is. But would it really work-"

Just then, another shadow emerged from the recesses of the vaults.

http://i438.photobucket.com/albums/qq105/strawpony/Way%20Of%20Moderation/FromTheShadows.png

From The Shadows- by HecticHermit

"Talking to yourself, ponyboy?" the always-grubby Hectichermit said. "Although technically, one could never really talk to themselves because they are... themselves."

"Let's just get to business," Strop said, in no mood to humour Hermit's ramblings. "Did you get the message?"

Hectic bowed slightly, drawing closer to Strop until both shadows stood before the giant silhouette of the bell. "If you seek, I shall provide."

"Good," Strop said. "In that case, do you remember that, uh, 'good stuff'?" Strop started fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with the combination of the venue and the subject matter.

Hermit spread his hands. "All my stuff is 'good stuff', my good man, err, horse. Speaking of which, how do you know if the stuff that affects you one way would affect others the same way?"

Strop was about to grind his fist into his head when he suddenly realised that Hermit was making a lot more sense than his convoluted grammar suggested. "Wait, what?"

"You're a horse," Hermit explained. "Or maybe you are a man. Or maybe you are a horse-man?"

Strop shook his head rapidly, then lifted his nose defiantly. "I don't know what the effects will be. But being the herbalist, I trust you would."

Even as he said it, Strop could not ignore the chill passing across the back of his neck. He swatted at it, trying to convince himself that it was merely the weight of the air. "So. Back to the original question. Are you ready?"

"As ready as can be, which is to say-" Hermit began. Strop cut him off with a palm.

"I need you to get as much of that crop as you can to the Armusement Park."

Hermit was not done asking in riddles: "When you say as much of that, how much does that really mean?"

Strop turned and started walking out of the Cathedral, fading into the rows of pews. "Enough for a million people."

---

by Cen

Strop stopped abruptly in the alley, starring out at the chaos the city had transformed into. That mess out there resembled his mind more than he would like to think about, and more than he could ever show to anyone. If the ditz of ArmorGames suddently fell depressed, who knew what beating the already low spirit would take.
More so, would he even be able to pull himself back on his own legs as he sunk deeper into the reality of what was going on?
Strop whinnied shrilly and charged out from the alley, after his collegues that had almost disappeard down the street.
For now he would keep up the facade, even if it was simply to keep himself going.

---

IMPORTANT: The following people are now authorised to post the entries they sent in!

Goumas
Kingryan
Chill

I have received stuff from Thoad, I await the rest of your entry.

Hermit, I will email you some instructions on something you can write if you have time.

Xzeno, Crimson, Mav, I will also email you with more details on how the plan will go down. Once we have all the entries in, we'll get on with the show!!!

Efan, if you are at all around, please email us your status.

 

Posted May 21, '11 at 4:11pm

thisisnotanalt

thisisnotanalt

10,092 posts

Chill shook his head, melting the sweat and ice that had covered his face.
The room he was in was semifrozen, and cluttered. The walls were shelves, which were lined with mugs, sheet music, books, and notes - with the occasional piece of coffee-making paraphernalia punctuating the display. The room was a pentagonal sub-sub-basement, deep underground and unknown to the rest of armorgames. Chill had it added to the 20th mansion in the Aristocrat Way when he moved in - a workshop and a practice room, all for him. The light came from a series of candles - electric light was too unpretentious - except for a laptop on a shelf, which was open to a webpage about coffee. The hallway leading out of the room led to a water basin, which Chill would freeze and move to ascend into the sub-basement, the basement, or the main floor. The drop was a few hundred feet down a narrow cylindrical pathway, as a measure against invaders - and it worked. Already a troll had broken in and fallen to his death stumbling into it. The audio of the room was populated either with Chill playing violin, making coffee, or refreezing the doorway (the ice would often crackle loudly as it was being refrozen), and Chill hadn't set foot outside of the room in days.
Chill siphoned the coffee grounds out of the dzezva, before cooling the water. The coffee was re-added and re-boiled, releasing even more caffeine from the Robusta beans he was using. They were stupidly caffeinated and they tasted as if they were the personification of Newt Gingrich â" old, bitter, and prone to inducing palpitations. Those beans had run their course, so Chill discarded then. Guarana was employed next. The brewing process had been such siphoning and replacing ad nauseum for the past few days. Chill separated out a sphere of the coffee - making sure it was perfectly stirred - before setting it in a petri dish. He separated out the water molecules, leaving only a large mass of caffeine. The water he discarded into the air, and the caffeine he re-integrated with the rest of the coffee. Pouring the rest into three small vials, Chill set them down - corked, of course - with his other supplies. Inhaler, 10 vials of hypercaffeinated Balkan coffee solution, self-defense spork. Steeling himself for the journey ahead, Chill gathered his things and ascended the elevator to the main floor of the house.
There was little time between when Chill set foot on the main floor and when the front door was bashed in. A troll, with a flaming club made out of a "Fix PSN" sign, was lumbering through the foyer. Chill was light-footed enough to remain undetected when sitting still, and did not move a muscle for minutes. It was a clamor of crying tritones - the troll had smashed his three violins with a swipe of the club - that motivated him to leave. Chill drew a large ball of water out of the surrounding environment and froze the troll in place - suspended in mid-breath. His fierce expression was fixed forever as Chill made his way out of the front door of the house and into the dystopia of the city of Armorgames in the midst of a troll infestation.
The infestation was news to Chill - the cryptic request he had received was all that hinted at any sort of trouble. The cityscape looked like Osgiliath during a bad hair day. A quick pillar of ice and a survey of the horizon convinced Chill that the Shopping Quarter and the Tavern were infeasible as routes to the Armusement Park, which was his destination. The Cathedral, however, was relatively intact - and so was the Construction Zone, which was beautifully open. Chill implanted himself in a sphere of water surrounded by cold air, only his head sticking out, and controlled the sphere for movement.
Chill was moving very fast. His inhaler was inside an air bubble along with the vials, and he had to concentrate hard to move quickly without soaking them. He slowed down once to take a dose of the medicine, then returning to full speed. The street was zooming by. The occasional AGer on the road would see him pass by and comment on it - "Oh, that's that former Way of Moderation contestant! Funny mode 'a transportation, donchaknow?" or something to that effect.
Chill zipped past the Cathedral almost too quickly to soak up the scene. It was intact, an oddity when compared to the disarray the rest of Armorgames was in. Chill could have sworn he saw something there - something . . . perissodactylous. Something . . . equuacious. But it sank down into the recesses of the back of his mind, to be ignored forever.
The Cathedral led right into the Construction Zone. It was open territory, games starting to assemble themselves in the ether, their creators present but out-of-sight. Chill worked mostly to dodge the games and the trees - a zombie holding a pipe came out of nowhere, a trebuchet almost knocking Chill out of the watery orb. The Construction Zone had few trolls in it, as it was a low-priority target. With the Armusement Park in sight, Chillâs spirits were lifted.
Chill reached the gate and vaulted it. Quickly freezing water under him allowed the force of the expansion to propel him up, and when combined with a jump, got him over the short fence. The landing was considerably less masterful, with Chill spraining an ankle on the way down. He froze himself a small cast for it so he could walk untroubled - he also tried to control the blood that was causing the ankle to bruise, but he hadn't the time to focus on it. He had to meet Strop and give him the vials. And so, slipping into the crowd like an ice cube into a glass of water, Chill sought out the ninja horse that had requested these strange elixirs.

 

Posted May 21, '11 at 10:30pm

Nurvana

Nurvana

2,598 posts

The cityscape looked like Osgiliath during a bad hair day.


Where's Faramir when you need him?

Great job guys, I was deeply despairing there for a moment.
 

Posted May 22, '11 at 1:51am

kingryan

kingryan

4,439 posts

The setting sun was hardly noticeable amongst the smoke and fires, and as KingRyan looked tiredly out from one of the library balconies, he wondered how much longer this fighting would go on for. He beloved city, which he had seen grow from its first roots in Beta was now burning, a silent tear rolled down his face and he remembered all those that had come and gone.

In all his time in the city of ArmorGames, there had never been a situation as bad as this. Sure, at times there had been fires and rebellions, but nothing to this magnitude. And where were the mighty Moderators now? What about that Tournament that was meant to be happening to get a new Mod, that obviously didn't happen - and if it did, it hasn't worked. And the mighty administration had disappeared too. Where was Queen Carlie, and the great great great McNeeley. KR sighed as he thought of the small note hidden within his house which was given to him by McNeeley when he first arrived in the ArmorCity.

It had been quiet around the Library for some time, so KR hoped that it had been forgotten about. The event that happened next could be said to have been caused by the 'jinx' of KR hoping that, but in reality it was actually a complex series of events involving a piece of toilet paper, but that will not be discussed here.
A large mob of Newf*gs appeared around a bend on a street near a library. They were carrying an assortment of weapons and other odd devices, ready to destroy the Library from the ground up.

KR's heart-rate increased and his old heart began to struggle under the stress. He panted and wheezed as the mob got closer, knowing that this was probably the end.


A moderate sized crowd had congregated at the Amusement Park. KingRyan stared around at those around him, some of them he didn't even know, but he noticed a few familiar faces around. The rumour was that the last Moderators were coming to help liberated ArmorGames once and for all.

As the old KingRyan waited, a slight thought of wonder flew through his mind - how exactly did he get to the Amusement Park?

 

Posted May 23, '11 at 12:07am

Hectichermit

Hectichermit

1,328 posts

Knight

yaay my bad pic made it :P, anyways i got some time this week to write something. I will be busy after this week though for like a month. Anyways just send me it I'll see what I can come up with.

 

Posted May 23, '11 at 2:54am

goumas13

goumas13

4,906 posts

Goumas arrived home rather easily, since the invaders were too busy pillaging and burning to bother chasing him. Unfortunately, when Goumas was in the driveway he saw that the front door was wide open. Somebody had broken into, he was absolutely positive the doors were locked completely before he left. After further inspection the ex-alchemist realized why the door was wide open, there was no door anymore and a big chunk of wall was missing.
Goumas thought that it wasn't wise entering the house under these circumstances, nonetheless he decided to go in, he had to see what was missing, so he could later report it to a mod. Nobody had touched his books or clothes and the appliances seemed to be all still there. It was time then to watch some soccer, to relax. However that was virtually impossible, somebody had stolen the TV.
Now, Goumas was very annoyed, they really shouldn't have touched his TV. He had to get revenge.
Where was he suppose to go? The park. Everybody was going to be there, perhaps his TV would be there too.
The wannabe-soccer-coach started walking quickly towards the park, but after just only a couple steps he had found his beloved TV.
A six-hundred-pound gorilla was holding it, so big and strong it didn't have to worry about anything. The gorilla started painting a picture on the screen, some sort of white rose, using a six-inch brush.
Goumas had to do something quickly if he wanted to stop the gorilla, to save his TV, so he yelled at it "Hey! Big ape leave my TV alone!"
The gorilla didn't answer, it had finished painting its picture. The great ape took a look around and hung the picture on the wall with a sledgehammer and a spike.
Goumas realized now that the gorilla was bigger, stronger and angrier than when they first met. He had to run to the park as soon as possible and hide behind the other people, he would certainly be safe there. If Goumas tried to face the gorilla he was a dead duck.

 

Posted May 24, '11 at 9:24am

Strop

Strop

11,085 posts

Moderator

Most excellent. We're still missing Efan, but now I'll be able to move on.

NEXT UP: the final Checkpoint before the fateful battle!

 

Posted Jun 5, '11 at 11:16am

Strop

Strop

11,085 posts

Moderator

It has come to my attention that tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of the opening of the WoM tournament... I admit that I would have liked to be much further along than we are now. I was also going to drop a huge update but between the final week of work in which my colleague suffered an unexpected emergency and had to take leave, travel and now leave (for my sister's wedding) I haven't had much access to internet.

Fortunately you can expect a bumper update tomorrow. It'll be picture-light as I've been doing most of my work on my lap, but it will also advance the story more than I've managed in any one go for the past six months!

After that I SHOULD be able to email everybody I need to about where they come in. And then **** gets real!

 
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