ForumsArt, Music, and WritingThe Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

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Cenere
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Cenere
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http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq1/Cerene_Cerine/hinthintnudgewinknudge.jpg

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goumas13
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goumas13
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24,075

I will leave to today, I have to go to teh sea, I may miss the next round and I apologize for that.
Bye.

jaza_m
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jaza_m
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I had read it before. I remembered it had an abnormal format. Short & sweet. I just looked for the post with the short sentences & lots of spaces. ^^


I only did one space for each word, Its just i did enter after ea line :P

Just did it quick just incase i got in trouble and wasnt allowed on.

But for the next round, ill make it better ^_^

Okay, jaza, I've recorded your submission URL. Thank you!


No worries.

So jaza, loot any huts? Attack any newbs? Destroy any monuments?


No..not yet anyway.
kingryan
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kingryan
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The Untroduction

Sadly, we must begin our tale with a cottage. If we did not have a cottage, then we would have no story...and a story is what we want. And so, the cottage...

Inside the small cottage was a large wooden desk. This desk held many pieces of parchment, several quills and pots of ink and a worn brass candlestick holding the remains of a once tall candlestick. However, even though these effects were prominent, the main feature of the desk was the head of a large creature which slumbered deeply, emitting loud snores.

The creature looked...well...old. The wrinkled face and long white beard clearly showed this, however these were just masks covering the mind of a teenager trapped in an old man's body.

A banging on the wooden door of the cottage woke the creature, which lazily opened its eyes and mumbled incoherently. Eventually, the words began to make sense.

"Go 'way, 'm tryin' to sleep!"

Of course, the banging continued, somewhat louder, and the creature rose from the desk, revealing its humanoid body. Making its way through the cramped cottage, the human stumbled to the door, muttering under its breath about the 'annoying youth of today.'

Opening the door, the human found that there was no one there. Stepping out onto the mat outside the door, it craned its neck from side to side looking for the culprit. Seeing an empty street, it took another quick glance to the left, which resulted in a loud CRACK. The creature doubled over in pain before straightening up and rubbing its neck.

Slowly tilting its head to stretch the sore muscles in his neck, it saw a nicely painted sign hanging above the door. 'KingRyan, Archivist' it said. However, on a much less decorated piece of wood underneath, the words 'Since beta' had been hastily painted.

http://i296.photobucket.com/albums/mm193/kingryanv/sign1.png

Continuing to stretch his neck, KingRyan noticed a white piece of paper on the ground a few metres from his house. Hobbling over to it (his legs were sore from overuse so early in the afternoon) and bent awkwardly down to pick it up. Turning it over, KingRyan saw the following page:

http://i296.photobucket.com/albums/mm193/kingryanv/AGwantsyou.png

KingRyan's first thought was this: 'Typical spammers.' Then he noticed the writing behind the graffiti. Walking back into his cottage, KingRyan muttered incoherently to himself about the unrespecting youth of today's society. Sitting at his desk, he picked up an object that that was a triangular blade with only one sharp edge and a wooden handle covering one of the points.

http://i296.photobucket.com/albums/mm193/kingryanv/scraper.png

Holding the strange object in one hand he held the flyer steady on the desk. Then, in short, smooth motions he rubbed it along the paper. Little black flakes of dried ink began to appear on the end of the tool. After many repeated strokes, KingRyan brushed off the tool and put it back in its place on the desk. The flyer now held no graffiti, however the ink scraper had worked slightly too well.

http://i296.photobucket.com/albums/mm193/kingryanv/cleaned.png

Looking at the flyer, KingRyan couldn't make head nor tail of it. Taking out another piece of parchment and his trusty quill, he began to scribble down what he could read:

~~~~~~~
ArmorGames Wants YOU

H ou always wished that u serve the city of ArmorGames?
H u always ondered i s like b of the hallowed Moderators ?
Do u think ye ve w t it k to b Moderator?

If so, then s u a a s morC ,

The Way of Moderatio T urna t!

Test your mettle to see if y ll become th hosen e;

Welcome and Induction Ce uon, e held h August, 2009

This annoucement sanction rator Carlie and the ArmorGames Moderators
~~~~~~~

'What....the....chickens?' muttered KingRyan, looking at the indecipherable letters, 'What on earth could this mean?'

Taking out some blue ink, he began to scribble in changes.

~~~~~~~
ArmorGames Wants YOU

How you always wished that trumpet serve the city of ArmorGames?
How you always pondered snappi was like a before of the hallowed Moderators Cheese?
Do you think yes wave awe cat bit dock as to been Moderator?

If so, then fish you in a bunka miss an ArmorCity Carlie,

The Way of Moderation Tournament!

Test your mettle to see if your pill become them chosen sue;

Welcome and Induction Cexapruon, see held with the 25th August, 2009

This annoucement sanction gatorator Carlie and the ArmorGames Moderators.
~~~~~~~

'Well this makes a lot more sense,' snorted KingRyan, and he promptly placed his head on the desk and was fast asleep.

A few hours later there was a sharp tapping and a warm glow at the window. The tapping continued until KingRyan was woken for the second time that day.

'OH COME ON! CAN'T ANYONE GET A NICE NAP NOW AND AGAIN?' he yelled.
'Kr, it's me,' came a timid reply from the window.
'Oh...sorry...err...hang on a minute I'll just open the window,' said KingRyan in a much nicer tone.
'Can't I just come in the door?' whined the voice.
'No. Absolutely not. I let you in once and you set half my books on fire. Be happy with the window,' explained KingRyan defiantly.
'But...but...but' whined the voice.

As KingRyan opened the window, the room was filled with that same warm glow. Its source was a beautiful phoenix sitting at the window, with an excited look on its face.

KingRyan began to think back to the time when he and Jess first met...he had been sitting on top of the main gate, watching the comings and goings of the city; the new timid users arriving and the old, tired users leaving - some for the last time.

Suddenly, he had noticed a strange bird up in the sky. It was quite large and had a brilliant golden-orange colour. It began to swoop down towards the gate and he was intrigued by it, he could not help being scared at the possibilities of a flamer or spammer.

The bird had perched on top of the gate next to him, where it had angled its head and looked at him with one bright eye. He had looked back with his own piercing gaze and something seemed to click between them and then...

KingRyan was broken out of his nostalgia by a squawk from Jess.

'What? Huh? Oh...sorry...' muttered KingRyan, annoyed that he had been interrupted, 'What brings you here anyway?'

'Haven't you heard? They're holding a tournament to decide who will be the next moderator! I'm just on my way to the induction at the amphitheatre, are you going to come?' gabbled Jess excitedly.

'Err...I guess I should come anyway...because I'm the archiver and all...but why hasn't anyone told me about this sooner?'

'You haven't noticed all the flyers everywhere?'

'Err...no...' lied KingRyan, subtly glancing at the flyer on his desk, 'I haven't really been outside much in the last few days....'

'Oh well, I'll see you there! BYEEE!!!!' squawked Jess enthusiastically, and with that she flew away from the window and off into the sky.

KingRyan looked slightly confused at the place where Jess had just been, then hastily grabbed his quill, ink and a recording book and set off towards the amphitheatre.

Fin.

Bluydee
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Bluydee
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I`m posting this because today is the deadline

I woke up in the morning and carried on with my daily routine. It was very windy day, perfect for bounty hunting. A spammer was wrecking havoc at the forum games. I was just going to collect my money after I got him when I got hit in the face with a newspaper.
I grabbed it and flipped through. Like always, it had a bunch of articles I didn't care about.. But then I saw something that caught my eye. There was a tournament and the reward was becoming a mod. I really didn't care about the reward but I like tournaments.
When I got home, I went to Google. I asked someone what a mod is. They informed me that a mod, short for moderator is a person are basically the dictators of AG, except less powerful than administrators. After mulling it over in my head, I decided that I would like all the power, and that I would enter the tournament.

jezz
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jezz
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Why, because you included his character or something? If you just want him to crit it, I can do that. I'll give you my email.

No no, its okay thanks Alt.
Its just, he's in the first half of my story. I'm still not used to portraying him correctly.
nichodemus
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nichodemus
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Like lulz...don't worry guys, I'm sbumitting my piece on Sat...so I'll be the last.

thoadthetoad
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thoadthetoad
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Official entry?

I, thoadthetoad, of armorgames awoke from an all-nighter of zombie killing. A large amount of outbreaks had came up and it really took the kick out of me. A sigh and a grunt was all I could muster out in his wake. My muscles pained me as if they had been bludgeoned to a squishy,
tender steak from all the zombie killing. Luckily it had only spread inside the wilderness and hadn't gotten inside the walls. The hauntings were enough, no one wanted a zombie in their homes. I took care of the moderate problem fairly easily... it's a shame that no one, not even the mods took my work seriously. The "outbreak" was now labeled under "Lucifer". Almost as bad as "Goliath" where my Goliath Syndrome accidentally got into a few of the ZSC members during a field outing; bless their souls. I let out another groan and, out of boredom, and purposely fell out of bed onto the floor. Probably because I needed a laugh after last night. Standing up and going to the larder, I looked down at what few fruits and vegetables I had. Exhaling and splurting a curse I walked towards the front door, picking up my wallet on the way.

"Another day in the life at ArmorGames," I grumbled, shutting the door behind me. The ground had Terra cotta-colored stones lined around the streets with a few unicorns taking people around the city. The sky was summer blue and a few clouds were to be seen, no particularly interesting clouds however. My gate had been a little weather torn but it was great compared to the dinky apartments the regular users had to suffer through. Especially since most of which were haunted.

Walking outside my iron gate, I walked towards the market. There was a lot of hubbub-bub of a new mod that was going to be chosen. Some had spread rumors that they were going to be the next, and some said that they couldn't be using the wheel of moderation this time around. I didn't pay too much mind to it however, thinking it was just a lie.

Wind racked the community of armorgames, trees turning and windows howling. Someone could easily lose a bunch of papers to the wind if they hadn't held onto them hard enough! As if it was the speak of the devil, a huge flier hit my face, nearly knocking me over by the sheer force. I sounded a "GWAH" out from the flier before I caught my balance again. Peeling it off my face and reading it, it showed the admin of ArmorGames, carlie, pointing in an uncle sam pose saying that I could be the next mod. I almost didn't recognize it at first and it went over my head, but something in me told me that it was important, so I pocketed it. Suddenly, I had a recurring memory of my want and my dreams of becoming a mod, my dedication of becoming one and the realization that I most likely wouldn't ANY time soon. It was a sad thought, but oh so true..

Finally getting to the market, I picked out some oranges and a few ounces of celery and even a bit of beef for some stew later. After I paid for my supplies, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The Flier I had gotten mentioned about any average joe becoming a mod! I pulled out the sheet and read it carefully, eyes widening with excitement.

Running as fast as I can back home I grabbed anything I could need, my guns, my bullets, all the zombie-hunting necessities. Even some steel chainmail I bought last week. "Awesome!" I screamed to myself in joy, setting them all down.

I had crawled out of bed yet again, not from zombie-killing but instead from just late-night screwing around. The much anticipated date of the start of the "Way of Moderation" tournament had finally begun! Grabbing my ..22 rifle, ZSC ww2 helmet and crowbar with chainmail, I walked to the auditorium, looking at everyone else heading towards my destination. There were many a person there and I happily stood, waiting for the instructions on my conquest to become a mod.

-fin-

But srsly, you'll take away my weapons at any given time for no reason and I may not get them back.... even though you told me thoad can carry a rifle so long as he doesn't shoot anyone else?! D: BUMMEEEERZ.

superpickle
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superpickle
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I hope I'm not too late! I present to you... the Super Pickle:

http://i542.photobucket.com/albums/gg414/super-pickle/superpickle.jpg

Gametesta
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Gametesta
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Yea your a bit late.

Bluydee
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Bluydee
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Nichodemus, today is the deadline

Gametesta
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Gametesta
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Well by the end of the day...

Bogga1314
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Bogga1314
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can I play?

Cenere
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Cenere
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Just to remind people, and certainly new people:
Go read the FAQ. It is stickied and easy to find.

Also: ARGH! I had no idea it was today > <

Darkroot
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Darkroot
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Lolz would of loved to join this >.< maybe next time then. Reminds me of D&D but more roleplaying (writing) and AG fantasy based.

Gametesta
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Gametesta
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Reminds me of D&D but more role playing (writing) and AG fantasy based.


What's D&D?
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