Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Adventures of AG : A State of Emergency

What the deuce is an oct?

Oh I see. However, from what I gathered is to be Moon and Tacky's quest, it just doesn't seem that difficult to at least post SOMETHING. It's been like a week no?

Moon was away on vacation for an entire week. She just recently came back from said vacation.

You say what the deuce. You are cool in my book.


AND CALVIN.
You can get your little ungrateful buttox off of this thread. I have absolutely no wish to quit writing, so you can go shove that idea up your arse.

Thank you Wolf. Thank you.

I've been gone. My internet has been down. I have reasons. But can you imagine how difficult it is to write something with someone else?

And depending on people to actually write something that makes them worthy of being on the team, you can forget that. They just want to say they look big and strong and Strop said yes.

So I'm sorry I have to depend on multiple people.

However, from what I gathered is to be Moon and Tacky's quest, it just doesn't seem that difficult to at least post SOMETHING.

Picture, optional.
Nickname: Holladay.
What you are: Musican
Description of your characters looks: 6'0 medium messy hair jeans with t-shirt and a guitar
Description of your characters personality: funny, charming, talkative
And how have you contributed to any section of the Forums: I contribute to forum games i have made a couple and in some, im also, in the tavern, pop media and politics, world event forum i have also, made a few post on their

Well that was a major failure. :P

And now, the moment you all hath been waiting for! :P
Also, people need to learn to make paragraphs. :P
Remember that we edit where we see fit. So don't be all mad if your story is little different. We have a good cause to cut a little bit or edit some bad grammar.

There's a lot to post, so if I make a mistake, either Moon or I will fix it later. :P
Also, one email didn't open, so his entry is not here yet. :/



Bunneh:


"We're only accepting those qualified." Strop yells over the crowd. After he says that, someone runs up to him. Or, rather, something. He is a rather large rabbit, and appears to be very excited.
"Hey, I'm Bunneh," he says. "I want to join the team."
"Alright," Strop says, "impress me. What can you do?"
"Well," says Bunneh, "I'm not the best fighter, but I have an Anti-Troll Ray."
"Okay, and what is this 'Anti-Troll Ray' you speak of?" asks Strop. "What the name says, of course," says Bunneh. "It turns your everyday troll into your everyday boring AG user. The only problem is: It has a 5 minute recharge, but it can take out multiple targets."
"Alright, that's good enough," Strop tells him. "You're in."


Nurvana:


Nurv peered over his tankard, annoyed. This is what he got for coming in for a drink. Strop had been yelling at the crowd for a couple minutes now, and there was still a quiet buzz echoing from the many users huddled around various tables. He frowned as a particularly interesting sentence floated out over the hubbub.
"Weâre only accepting those qualified." Nurv leaned back in his chair, fingering the handle of his mug. He was qualified. He didnât have a particular care for the moderators, but they did make life in Armor City better, and this could be his chance to earn immortality in King Ryanâs books.
"If there are those among you who would like to join our team, please step forth." Nurv wrinkled his nose in response, perplexed. Should he apply? Strop had denied his application for the Way of Moderation those many years ago, even if it had been nothing but a drawing of a muffin eating a cat. There was a rash of mumblings around the Tavern, but none seemed willing to step forth.
"I'll do it." Nurv said bluntly, standing from his chair. All eyes turned to him, but he ignored the stares.
"Nurv! Please, step forward!" Strop said through the megaphone, beckoning to him. Nurv walked around tables, moving
chairs and barrels, until he was at the front of the crowd, right in front of Strop.
"What do you want me to do?" Nurv said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks.
"Well, thatâs a good question." Strop replied. He places his hands on his horsey hips, pondering it.
"I'll test him." Came a voice from the side. Moon, followed by Tacky, came to Stropâs side, wings flitting lazily at
her back. "Defeat me in battle, Nurv, and weâll consider you for the team." Nurv paused, mouth half open. He hadn't expected it to
be a test of strength, and he wasnât sure if he stood a chance against Moonâs magic. But he really wanted this chance. He walked
back to his chair, and pulled his sword out of the back of a troll he'd killed in the skirmish earlier. Walking back to the front
of the Tavern, which was now ringed by users, he assumed a loose stance and waited.
Moon smirked, and with a flick of her wrist, sent Nurv into the adjacent wall. Plaster and paint chips rained down
around him as he rose back to his feet, grimacing as pain shot through his back. He looked around frantically, and managed to
throw his arm up and block a small knife that Moon had procured out of thin air. He wasnât quick enough to block her second
strike, and instead of a stabbing pain, her thrust sent him crashing to the floor. Scrambling back up, he dived back down as she
flew towards him, and rolling back up, caught her in the side with the flat of his blade. Her flight pattern was slightly
interrupted, but she stayed on course and cast another spell that put him through the cheap Tavern wall. He crawled back into the
room, and getting back onto his knees, was knocked onto his face by a blow from behind. Rolling around, he grabbed Moon's knife
wrist as she went to stab, and locking her arm, pressed his blade to her neck. She smiled sweetly, then with an inaudible word
threw him from the floor into the ceiling, and back down. Brushing herself off, she tossed her head and turned to Strop.
"Not bad."



Oak:


"We're only accepting those qualified." Strop yells over the crowd.
"Hmph, this should be a piece of cake." Oak mummers to himself, pulling out his Pixelizing Gun.
Aiming at the tree right above Strop, Oak shoots twice, turning the tree into a few simple pixels.
"If you think you have what it tak- Woah, who just did that?!" Strop shouts as he sees the pixel shot transforming the

tree.
After a few minutes, Oak calmly makes his way over to where Strop is standing.
"I shot the tree." Oak says simply.
"Why'd you do that?!" Strop yells.
"To prove to you that I'm capable of being a key part of the team!" Oak replies.
"All you had to do was show me what you're capable of." Strop says, still on edge. "Not point a gun in my direction!"
"Well, y'know, I thought it would be cooler to turn that tree into a few pixels." Oak says with a smile on his face.



Wolf:

Wolf looks up from the crowd gathered around Strop. Qualified? He laughs to himself under his breath. I'm hardly qualified, but every tale needs a recorder. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd he makes his way to where Strop is standing. Strop is in the midst of taking applicants, while half a dozen fools are running around speaking of glory and heroism. Of saving who needs to be saved and winning some eternal place in history. Wolf snorts at this, Eternal? History is hardly eternal. One day we'l all be forgotten no matter our deeds. As for glory...
Stepping forward and cutting of another applicant, "Strop, I'm here to apply for this...quest, if that's the right word."
Strop regards Wolf for a moment, clearly deciding if he's joking. They both know he's hardly the figure of intimidation. "You sure Wolf?"
"Every story needs someone to tell it. Even if that tale remains...unwitnessed. Besides Strop," Wolf pauses, pulling out a deck of lacquered wooden cards, "I have this."
"And what is that?"
"The Deck of Games Strop." Wolf pulls out a card. On the card is is a picture of Strop in doctor's whites with his hands clasped behind his back. "Or," Wolf says griining, "Is it Doctor of High House Armor Games?"
"Now I know why you're called Wolf, that bloody grin."
"Well Strop, what's the decision?"
"You're in."


Kyouzou:

"We're only accepting those qualified!" Strop yells over the crowd.
The crowd murmurs among themselves quietly for a moment, before a man steps forward, he is neither exceptionally tall nor is he short, fat or thin, in fact the only that makes him stand out remotely from the hundreds of people gathered in front of the trio were the two blades strapped to his sides. "I could be of assistance, I know little about the land of ghosts but the tales of it's dangers are legendary, I have no doubt that my blades and I could aid you greatly, especially against someone or something that has the power to take down the Moderators."
The three glance among each other before Moon nodded her agreement having known the man, Q, for years, Tacky seemed
content to go along with her verdict and then Strop spoke, "How would your blades aid us, with my shuriken, I can prevent us from ever having to physically attack something, and how do we know you're capable of wielding those blades, I'm reluctant to bring users along as is, if someone gets hurt or dies, the administrators would not be happy to say the least..."
"I know that there are far more dangerous people and creatures than me in the Ghost Land, let us see what your shuriken can do to me, shinobi-san." Q's voice was normal, but now there was an underlying edge of steel, it was clear that he did not appreciate the clear underestimation of his skills.
There was slight rushing of air as Strop's shuriken hurled through the air, faster than the eye could see, the gathered cringed as they expected to hear the inevitable sound of metal slicing into someone, however they heard a series of dull thumps as the brace of shuriken fell from the air, cleanly bisected by Q's wakizashi, very few had even been able to see the man draw his blade, much less cut through the sharpened pinwheels. Q calmly sheathed his blade, "Is there any doubt in my skills now?" Before Strop could respond the man took of running as the clock tower tolled, "Gotta run, people to see, things to do! Let me know if you need me, Moon knows where my place is!" And just like that he was gone.



jeol:

I walked to the center of the crows and the center of attention, to Strop and the small group standing around him. Nervously, I approach.
"Hey, uh, Strop? I want to join the little band you are rounding up."
"Look, we're only accepting those qualified, so unless you are up to this, don't try."
"I'm ready. I can handle it."
Strop pulls out a ninja star and throws it at me. I instinctfully duck and stand there, confused.
"Come on, show me you can handle it," Strop challenged.
Wrinkles forming on my face, I run up to give the ninja horse one of my powerful kicks. Strop jumps aside and proceeded to karate chop my leg. I pull my leg under me and sent the other one to his back, knocking him forward. Acting like he was still dealing with the pain, he turns around and slaps in the face, and trying to gather myself, I proceeded to grab onto his arm with my paws and twist it. Oh, how I could use a pair of hands. I forced his arm behind his back, but could not do much to twist it, my paws not providing very good grip. Strop wincing, he decided, "you may be able to do. But one more thing."
"What?"
"What was ArmorGames originally called?"
"Everybody knows that. It was called Games of Gondor."
"What is John's cat's name?"
"Muffin."
"Good. Come on."



Deathopper:


"We're only accepting those qualified." Strop yells over the crowd. And somewhere in the back of the huge crowd a strange man thinks to himself "Those qualified, those qualified... I might make the list. I just have to do it fast; master doesn't like waiting." After the horse ninja's words echo in the suspenseful atmosphere the man stands up, dropping his cup of Armed Whiskey, a popular drink in the tavern.
"I might be of some importance." He says in a deep and rough voice. All eyes turn towards this bizarre man, including those of the last moderator.
"And who may you be?" asks Strop with a tone filled with authority.
"I knew I wasn't popular, but not to THIS point!" The man chuckles and continues "I'm Deathopper, but you can simply call me Death."
"And how will you help us on our quest?" says Strop.
"Well I have to go soon; Master doesn't like to wait" replies Death. "My master is The Grimm Reaper. I am his apprentice. I help the ghost users to the light. You see most of them are where you're heading. To the land of Ghost. I'm a guard there, I prevent spammers from penetrating the ghost fields and spamming the ghost users. For if a spammer finds a ghost user they'll rank up faster than we can count without the Mods around."
Before Strop can add anything else, Death is already running away in the thick mist covering the tavern. Only is voice is heard. "Got to go!"
"Wait!" Strop's scream was strong enough to be heard miles away. "I'm not willing to waste hours on a wild goose chase all around the city to find you! I don't care about your master! Come here! I'll test you to see if you can handle the trip."
Death comes back with a hint of annoyance in his eye. "Alright I'll do it, what's the tests?"
"Glad you came back" chuckles Strop. "Let see if how you do in a fight." he continues "Who is wiling to fight this fellow over here?" screamed the ninja to the crowd.
"I'll do it!" Suddenly an enormous man appeared in front of the little Death.
"Uh... Were do we fight?" says Death mustering as much courage he can. Before Strop can explain anything else, Death's opponent punches him in the stomach. Angry, Death kicks him in the face. The man starts to bleed. He grabs Death and throws him to

the ground. Death jumps back up to his feet and grabs a sword from a body of a dead troll. He throws it to his opponent like a spear, but the man evades it in the nick of time.
He grabs the sword and continues. "Prepare to die!!" He charges towards Death, the sword pointed towards his chest. Death backflips and uses his legs to push himself against the wall, evading the man's deadly strike.
His opponent's speed is inhuman and when he reached the crummy tavern wall, his sword breaks against it. He doesn't have the time to stop and his body slams against the wall.
He falls down. Death, thinking he had won, prepares to leave, but Jack manages to quickly get up. His face is unnoticeable because of all the blood. He runs towards Death. Death performed an agile yet powerful kick sending Jack to the opposite wall.
Strop, amazed by the battle, whispers under his breath. "Interesting, very, very interesting!"



Calvin:

The crowd stood thinking for a second, then people started talking. A man stood up from the crowd, he said his name was Ali and he would basically join.
"What would you do to join?" Strop asked. "I will launch a watermelon in the air, then catch it", Ali answered.
"I would like to see you do that, Ali" Strop threw back. Ali reeled threw a catapult and put a watermelon in the holder.
"This can not be good" Strop muttered under his breath. Ali tied the holder of the catapult to the wheel thingy and cut the rope. The watermelon went flying, and Ali went chasing after it. He dived for it, and caught it.

ok how do i play this? lol

Holy Christ it's a miracle. Well done ladies.

Okay well.....
Tacky I need to speak with you ASAP.

Was mine the one that didn't open?

ok so what exactly do i have to do?

ok so what exactly do i have to do?

No,
Moon is stalling. Half of the people on AG signed up for this and she wants to quit it now.

I'm surprised I even got the part! I'm not the best writer and I was simply amazed by the fact that I am in. I hope it's not an extremely small role or worse Calvin's role (guessing from the post, it wasn't an appealing part). I worked hard on that application.
Anyway, I'm excited about the whole thing. Let's must hope you can just write faster. The suspense is killing me! C'mon guys!

Wasn't sure if I could still join or not but if I can here it is...

Nickname: PM
What I am: Flame Horse
Features: My Armatar... Normal size of a horse.
Personality: Loyal, destructive, stubborn, fast, strong, served as a steed for many a adventurer.
Contribution: I'll get to it later...
Fighting Style: Hoof-kicking and fame breath = HELL YEAH!