Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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Alright, since at least one person is awaiting the entry, I'll post it in bits!
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"ALL VICTESTANTS TO THE ARMUSEMENT PARK!" A shrill whinny echoed through the streets of Armor City. Except about a million times louder than an actual horse.
Strip marched up and down the laneways, soopahdoopahawesometasticmegamegafone in hand. Cen had wisely elected to wear the earmuffs he was accustomed to wearing when he went to bed at night for this occasion. In fact, since it was just after noon on a crisp Autumn morning, he didn't even have to take them off. Yay. It was just too bad he couldn't continue wearing his sleeping eyepatch, to prevent him from having to endure Strip's questionable dress-sense (that miniskirt barely covered her posterior!) He wasn't that ninja.
"AND BRING ALL YOUR STUFF WITH YOU!" Strip yelled, before muttering. "Stupid accounts technicality. Just because I'm not Strop of the XY persuasion, I can't wield Thor? This is sexual discrimination!" and storming down another alley and repeating the message.
"Yes, ma'am." Cen replied, not really able to hear the words that came out of his mouth. For one who spent much of his time avoiding people, he demonstrated great insight into the way of the fairer sex in this manner. For example, he was also not going to ask what Strip exactly had in mind, and he was also not going to ask how long Strip envisaged the process of marching down every public alleyway in AG yelling down the 'fone. Surely her voice couldn't last as long as her shopping trip did.
He needn't have waited long, though. Since the 'fone was capable of shattering every window in Armor City from any given point within it, suffice to say it didn't take many calls. By the time Strip and Cen arrived at the Armusement Park, everybody else had arrived.
And with them, transported on the backs of a veritable army of underpaid foreign labourers, were several warehouses worth of glitzy trash. Mostly Gail's. Strip's 100 boxes of custom horse shoes (one for every occasion) were a mere trifle in comparison. In fact, put all together, it very much looked like the biggest Guy Fawkes tribute ever in the history of the internet.
Yeah, well, you can find it somewhere in that giant pile if you want. But better get it quick because-
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"ALRIGHT," Strip blared through the 'fone. "WE'RE HERE TO RID OURSELVES THIS WRETCHED CONDITION."
The victestants looked among themselves. Wretched condition? Perhaps they may have thought so at the start, but most of them, it seemed, had become quite accustomed to it. Others had taken certain attributes too far and were suffering the burden of reality (and gravity) as a result.
"SO WHO AMONG US," Strip continued, "KNOWS OF THE CURE?"
The victestants were, by this point, expressing their collective ambivalence. Most of them had come to accept their condition, and were in the mindset of "when/if a cure comes..." Mantina (or Womanta, as some called her) initially had complained about getting the whole package along with the mammaries, but since a certain herbalist had managed to "enhance" them further, her original objections were lost. Frances was in love with her Harley (and who could blame her, it was, like, gorgeous). Lia was now the better half of everything Gnollish, Hyena-folk being as they are. The Cowwoman was not present, presumably still searching for (or bemourning) her nosering. And Queen Rianna (or was that Regina) had quite forgotten she used to be a he.
At that moment, there was a rustling and a rather large, grubby man emerged from the bushes. Or maybe he was the bush. It was hard to tell.
"If I might offer," he began. "There is a potion of which properties-"
"SILENCE!" Strip bellowed down the 'fone, bowling the hapless HecticHermit over. "I KNOW OF YOUR SHENANIGANS! I HAD TO REMOVE A LIMB FROM HER HIGHNESS' PATELLA THANKS TO YOU. AND DO YOU THINK THESE-" at this point Strip grabbed her fairly ample breasts through her shirt- "AREN'T BIG ENOUGH!?"
"No, no," stuttered the hermit. "I think they're quite big enough thank you-"
"THEN WHY DID YOU ENLARGE THE BREASTS OF MY VICTESTANTS!? IT'S MEDICALLY IRRESPONSIBLE!"
The poor hermit was being backed from one corner to another. "Why, ma'am, if you wish I could also give you-"
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, WOOD-FOR-BRAINS! AFTER ONE UNINTENTIONAL AUGMENTATION YOU'D THINK YOU'D TRY ANOTHER METHOD!"
What? The Hermit, unaware of Gametestro's independent efforts, began protesting his innocence: "But it did only happen once!" But he was ignored by Strip, who was already railing on: "Who among us would like to rid themselves of impending bankruptcy? Who among us would like to be able to carry something other than their boobs? Who here wants to be able to go around without being degraded, (OOC: Yeah, look at me go!) objectified, leered at, propositioned, without having to think in mood-swings, have your insides get torn up every month, receive lower pay for the same work, have to fight for basic maternity-leave rights, be subjected to systematic and cultural torture in the third world, be denied the right to vote and register as a citizen, or even denied existence on the internet!?"
Well that was certainly compelling. Before long, the dozen-or-so victestants were clamoring in agreement, as were the several hundred other people who had nothing to do with the tournament but simply happened to be in the park at the same time, and the several thousand immigrant labourers who had no idea what was being said but knew it sounded exciting.
"You agree? I tell you what we should do!" Strip reached up, hand in a fist. "WE SHOULD BECOME MEN!"*
There was a roar of approval, or really not a roar, because all the voices were coming from the women.
"So!" Strip flicked her tail triumphantly. "Who knows of a cure?"
There was the sound of crickets.
"Then I declare this!" Strip spread her arms wide. "Whoever finds the cure to our female condition first... shall be instantly made A MODERATOR OF ARMORGAMES!"
Cenere, in his capacity as the rational one, boggled and ripped off his earmuffs. "Are you mad?" he cried out, but to no avail. The crowd of thousands had stood for a single moment, before pandemonium broke loose. Everybody started running in every direction. Most headed for the tavern, to, strangely, tell everybody else. Several fights broke out for no reason at all.
Strip, meanwhile, thumbed the button on the 'fone again. "And now, shall I deal the mortal blow to our symbol of feminine slavery! DEVOIDLESS, STUFF NEEDS BURNINATING. NOW!"
Above the chaos, a shadow appeared. Then great gusts blew across the the park, flattening the grass and scattering the people. Then beside the giant pile of trash, the great bearded dragon, Devoidless the Ancient, landed.
"You know how I feel about the tournament," he grated. "But how can I refuse the delicately-worded request of a lady?"
With that, he sucked in a huge breath, coughing once or twice, before blasting the tower of trash with the molten breath revered among dragons. In an instant, the pile was ablaze, smoke billowing towards the heavens. The crackling was deafening, but what was truly unbearable was the heat that burst forth. While the flaming tower of trash itself may have been comparable to Strop's clocktower, the heat itself engulfed the park, shrivelling and singeing the grass until it too caught fire, and soon it was clear that the whole of Armor City was, once again, in grave danger at the hands of a certain irresponsible ninja filly. And a pyromaniac dragon.
"Great!" Cen shouted futilely, "Now what!" Self-preservation kicked in, and he started running from the blaze. Strip stood a moment longer, before she realised the embers were catching in her tail, and with a startled squeal, she also legged it. There was screaming as the flames grew stronger still, consuming the trees and bushes and the rows of topiary ever-so-lovingly planted once-upon-a-time by the moderator crew at the dawn of the Great Reshuffle** They raced towards the borders of the park, bearing down upon the Tavern itself. All seemed lost, when-
OH, CLIFFHANGER!
Okay, I'm done! I shall post in the Archive and will link you to it when completed.
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"Stand back!" In marched the mysterious caped figure, hood concealing its head until it reached up with a webby hand and cast it back to reveal a stubbly fish face. "I, Ubertuna, Tunamancer Extraordinaire, will save the day!" He turned to the fire and pointed a knobbly grey finger at it. "Your time has come, fire!" He called at the top of his voice, which was to say, nobody heard him say anything- "For my type is water! Eat my water pistol technique!"
With that he leaned toward the conflagration, pursed his lips, and spat out a thin stream of water.
"Fine then!" Ubertuna cried, recoiling as the flames licked his cape. "Try this! Technique splash!" And he proceeded to flail around on the ground directly in front of the fire.
"Alas, foiled by the utter lack of water!" Ubertuna cried again. "But this time, I know I have you licked!" He procured a wand from the depths of his robes, and waved it around wildly. "SPECIAL TECHNIQUE BUBBLE!"
A giant stream of bubbles blew out, whirling wildly upwards into the stratosphere high above. The oily films reflected the dazzling lights, until, strangely, the bubbles themselves caught fire.
"I forgot," Ubertuna mused to himself as certain doom closed in on him. "All that does is double the power of soap. And I never managed to solve my shark problem!"***
As Ubertuna threw up his arms in defeat, there was a massive whoosh and a cool breeze blew in, blowing the fire away. "You idiot, 'tuna," somebody grunted from below. Ubertuna whirled around, tripping on his robes and coming face to face with a drawf.
"Dank? How did you do that?"
"Shut up," Dank grunted. "Dwarves aren't supposed to use magic, but it looks like somebody has to do something right around here."
With that, he whirled his great hammer around, and slammed it into the ground. Then with a growling voice that pierced the heavens, he incanted: "By my namesake, I order water to contain this demonic flame!"
At the same time, he drew figures with his fingers more rapidly than the eye could see, and from the very tips of his fingers flowed glowing text. Then he yelled "EXECUTE SCRIPT!" and ducked for cover.
Out of nowhere, a wall of water descended upon them, picking both Dank and Ubertuna and hurling them away from the fire. The magical body of water then rose up, clashing against the flames. A great sizzling arose, and the flames and smoke were enveloped in massive, neverending clouds of steam that joined the clouds in the skies.
Ubertuna brushed himself off, shaking the excess water from his robes and his cape. "Not bad, Dank," he grated, "that was precisely what I was going to do next. Dank?"
But the reclusive dwarf had already vanished.
"Wow, will you look at that," Strip said, looking up at the heavens, seemingly forgetting the fact that she was the one who had caused all this.
"Yeah," Devoidless said from up above, before rising to his feet. "And I better get going. Before, well, you know." With that, he flapped his wings mightily and took off, his spiked tail coiling behind him as his black bulk faded into the distance. Strip looked up again, noticing that the formerly white fluffy clouds were now forming into a rising dark mass directly above the massive bonfire, spreading out to occupy the whole sky. Between the magical water and the magic of thermal convection currents on this magnitude (after all, the bonfire probably took up nearly half of the Armusement Park which in itself took up quite a lot of the Armor City acreage), it was only a matter of-
Suddenly there was a great thunderclap and the floodgates of heavens opened up. Everybody looked up to see the deluge of rain falling from the sky as one, and then it was upon them, cool, fresh, and extremely wet. In an instant the great fire was extinguished, leaving only a giant pile of ashes. Everybody stood transfixed at the sudden change, ignoring the fact their clothes were soaked through. Gutters overflowed, rivulets pouring down the rooftops and the cobblestones of the streets. And the noise, the noise! Before it was the oppressive crackling of fire, but now it was the endless, rhythmic patter of raindrops that dominated the land.
And thus the legend of how the seasons changed in the Land of Armorgames was born.
"Well, whaddya know," Strop said, before blinking and realising that the i had changed for an o. "Whaddya know!" he repeated, the fact slowly sinking in that he had turned back into the ninja horse.
"Yeah, whaddya know," Cen said, his umbrella (always be prepared) unfurled. Strop looked at him, but he had his back studiously turned. That was when the final fact sunk in for Strop.
But it was too late to do anything about that. In the distance, Strop could see thousands of people flooding back into the Armusement Park from every direction, each one of the clamoring that they were the one to find the cure to being female.
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* I acknowledge that this is actually a tongue-in-cheek jibe at certain aspects of the feminist movement, embittered hydra that it has become today.
** Armusement park did not exist until the Great Reshuffle of July 2008, when the Forum Games were created. I'll have you know that this was barely a week after I became a mod, and one of my first tasks was to help sift through the several hundred pages of the other Games and Tavern section to establish what forum games really were.
*** Whereas Mister Frog had a problem with weasels, Ubertuna has a problem with sharks.