wasn't that song that tuna sung from the mighty boosh?
Well done! Old Gregg has scarred the minds of the moderation team forever and evermore. CANNOT UNSEE D:
Okay, here's the next section.
Strop had a sneaking suspicion that people were staring at him. But he had more pressing things to attend to. He wasn't sure what they were, but he was pretty sure he'd remember once he reached home. That was all that was on his mind: sawing at the surprisingly well-crafted rope took half a day, and finding his bearings and walking back to Armor City took another half, so naturally he was feeling pretty crappy. Seeing as Strop couldn't move his head, he wouldn't have been able to reach his room up on the top of the highest tower of Armor Castle, if it weren't for the rope ladder somebody very kindly left dangling from his window. After whatever trip he had last night, he desperately needed to freshen up, and there was no better place for that than in the privacy of his own ensuite bathroom.
As predicted, the tap was running thanks to the recent heavy rains, so Strop started splashing water over his face. That was when he felt something hard and plastic attached to his forehead. And that was when he looked up into the mirror.
Elsewhere in ArmorGames, the tournament victestants, those nefarious folk, heard Strop's earth-shattering scream. And they probably giggled.
Strop bolted out of the bathroom for no reason in particular other than chucking a total spazz. But he did see a fancy envelope placed in the "IN" tray on his workdesk, with one of those fancy wax seals bearing the logo of ArmorGames. Tearing it in half, Strop shook out the note within and read it aloud:
"To the User Strop,
This letter is to notify you that a formal complaint was lodged against you by another user. You are hereby under investigation for the attempted murder of Chill, by the method of releasing an arrow at his person.
A search warrant of your residence has been issued. At some point you will be contacted for an interview. Attempts to leave the land of ArmorGames will result in a warrant for your arrest.
We will update you on the results of our investigations.
Sincerely,
The ArmorGames Secret Police."
Strop scratched his head. He shot Chill? With a bow and arrow? But that couldn't be possible, after all, he-
On a sudden impulse, Strop rushed over to the weapons rack. His bow and quiver was missing.
Strop sank to his knees. Surely he could not have broken his oath!? That sacred oath for which his bow had specifically been carved for, the embodiment of his way of life... yet if he could not remember what happened, he could not say for sure what he had or had not done. And what was this about a secret police? Surely the SHOPS squad hadn't reformed without his knowledge? Or maybe this was one of those hokey user-based groups that liked to throw their weight around, or maybe this was one of those secret secret admin-level groups that investigated abuse of moderator power. After all, moderators were only enforcers of the law, and goodness knew how many violations Strop had committed in the past few... well, rather, moderators weren't supposed to be above the law. Yes.
If only he could ask Carlie, but Carlie was absent.
Then again, why not take it from the horses' mouth? Not his, of course, but Chill and the rest of the victestants. After all, he had to get on with the next round, and he had to decide who was going to continue into the final stages of the tournament.
First things first, though. He had to get rid of the horn and the dye. And trim himself even, despite the fact he'd been growing his winter coat out specifically for the coming winter.
Darn those pranksters. He swore he would get to the bottom of this.
