Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

it's the wom's birthday?

d'aww.

i've never watched anything grow from birth like this.

it's... rather rewarding.

MANTA.

ARE YOU GOING TO PICK UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF?

IT WOULD BE REALLY NICE.

Yeah, seriously dude. You haven't been around in this thread since months ago.

*pokes Manta*

Nice writing Strop, rather eloquent in parts, which I liked.

Will watch the email inbox.

I was hoping to plonk this all in one go but it seems there's a limit to how much I can produce in a single day. At any rate, this was the update that was supposed to advance the plot, but hey, we're really shaking now!

---

The Fellowship of the Banhammer

A blast of fire was enough to convince the stragglers casing the innocuous looking H-shaped brick house to scatter. With a thud and another roar of flame, followed shortly by a round of coughing, Devoidless landed at the front entrance.

"Right kiddies, off you get," he grunted, shrugging his passengers off his shoulders. Strop, Zophia, Asherlee, Dank and Moe all tumbled down, but DM managed a more graceful landing. "And be darned if you get me to do that again."

"Uh," Strop started, before Devoidless threw him off with a burning glare. "I don't mean to impose but it's kind of a really important part of our plan," he managed to squeak.

"What do you mean, important-" Devoidless was about to square off on Strop when DM wrapped the whip around his neck and tugged him towards the doors. "Let's continue this inside."

Much pushing, pulling and cursing later, the crew managed to squeeze Devoidless through the front entrance, effectively hiding him from view. "Actually, first up," he said, his face uncomfortably close to the rest now that he occupied most of the lobby, "Why did we have to come here in the first place?"

"There are two reasons," Strop enumerated with his fingers: "One, it's safe. This building houses a non-profit organisation, so it was surprisingly immune from the rioters and looting, like for the Armusement park. Two, it's close to everything that's important right now."

"And that is...?"

Strop started counting on the fingers of his other hands: "First there's the castle. You may have noticed that all that's left of the courts is a pile of smoking rubble."

"Yes, I did notice that," Devoidless mused. "A shame that, we worked hard to get it built, right Moe-"

"Anyway," Strop glanced hastily at Moe while cutting Devoidless off. "What's important is that it's hot now but the coming rains will cool it right off, meaning that the castle will be open to attack, and if that happens..."

"So we need to find a way to defend the castle or else solve this riot problem before it rains?"

"Kind of," Strop made a box with his fingers, as if about to outline his big plan (which was precisely what he was doing.) "We already had enough trouble keeping a single crowd of maybe a thousand rioters under control. There's maybe a hundred times that from our neighbors, plus half our own citizens running amok and looting everything in sight. We needed a temporary solution that would neutralise everybody long enough for the administration to bring in the backup."

"And that is...?" Devoidless could have sworn he just asked that question but being so far behind the times, it was not a relevant concern.

"We're going to put everybody to sleep." Seeing Devoidless' look of bemusement, Strop was compelled to explain further. "As in, literally to sleep. If everybody's asleep, nobody's moving, nobody's rioting."

"You have a plan to make that happen?"

"Yes. Yes, we do."

"Does this plan include avoiding putting ourselves to sleep too, just in case something goes wrong?"

At this everybody started coughing and looking slightly nervous. Strop stopped in his tracks, then waved his hand dismissively.

"I have it all figured out: don't ask questions! Zophia, are you ready?"

Zophia produced a dangerous-looking box. "Carlie would have to be blind to miss the distress signal this bad boy's gonna produce."

"Good." Strop nodded slowly. "Remember guys, as soon as that thing goes off, every troll, looter and miscreant in the land is going to know where we are, and it'll be safe to assume they're going to be gunning for us. Our mission, however, is a cargo run. Our friend the Hermit has our salvation gathered in a private field well hidden away outside the walls of the city. Devoidless, you'll be flying DM and I there so we can cover you while Hermit loads you up. Once you've done that, fly over the giant fire that is the Freemarket, drop it, scatter and pray for a miracle. Sounds simple but I know for a fact the raiders have aircraft. Can we count on you?"

Devoidless stared at the rest of the crew for a very long moment, before realising that this was not a joke. His eyes narrowed as the gravity of the situation finally sunk in for him. "What will the rest of you be doing?"

Zophia raised her hand. "I'll be making as much chaos as possible with these fireworks. The one you need to watch out for will be in your likeness, that'll be the drop point."

Asherlee raised her sword and banged the hilt on the floor. "The rest of us will run cover until the drop is made, then we skedaddle too. I'm on melee duty, just like old times." She laughed, short and harsh.

Dank smirked. "Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?"

Finally the faint creases of a sardonic smile appeared on Devoidless' visage. "What can I say, this sounds like more fun than I've had in a long time."

Strop smacked his fists together with a resounding crack. "Alright. Let's do this."

---

A plume of red fire shot into the skies, penetrating the clouds and far beyond. Sparks trailed behind it, and its distinctive whine echoed over the lands. Suddenly, an unholy thunder rumbled through the sky and the clouds themselves were lit up red, embers spreading in a spherical formation before fading and eventually dispersing entirely.

"That was one hell of a firework," Devoidless muttered, smashing his way back through the front entrance of the building.

"And that's just the first one," Zophia exclaimed, slinging her brush over her shoulder. "We should get moving, the raiders will be here any moment now."

"Yeah," Strop said absently, sniffing the air. "We better hurry."

"Come on then," DM called him over, already straddling Devoidless' neck and grasping his horns. Strop scrambled up his scaly hide and sat himself between the spines on his back. "Keep it steady, 'voidy," he quipped, "I'm your tail-gunner today!"

Devoidless was heard to mumble something vaguely grumbling as he coiled up and took off, clambering into the sky until they disappeared among the clouds.

As the wind started to pick up, Asherlee strapped the brain-in-a-jar Moe onto her back, before stretching and twirling her swords twice.

"Sorry," Moe said suddenly.

"Sorry for what?" Asherlee frowned.

"I haven't been myself lately, and now all I am is a burden to everybody."

Asherlee tilted her head back, gazing at the brooding clouds. "Moe, I never understood how one couldn't be themselves. You may have changed, but you're still you, aren't you?"

"I percieve an undeniable difference, and I have justified knowledge of its origin," Moe argued.

"But," Asherlee slid the swords back into their sheaths at her belt. "You can't directly compare the experiences as you live a singular existence, right?"

Moe did not reply. Asherlee smirked. "No need to bother," she murmured. "You taught me that yourself."

---

Haven't sent those emails yet, keep waiting!

"Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?"

OOoh fancy, I can tell that I'm going to be good at this round...if it involves sleeping.

Although, this could just end up like Inception, and realistically Strop, you could claim that you always had it planned like that, because Inception came out after this threads...inception.

Alright guys, check your inbox.

If I have time, I will have a) an update here and b) a further addendum to that email which will give you a motivation and setting in which to consider your characters' responses.

If I have time, I will have a) an update here and b) a further addendum to that email which will give you a motivation and setting in which to consider your characters' responses.

OH HEY GUYS HERE I AM AGAIN LOL WHERETF HAVE I BEEN?

seriously though, I wanna actually get back on board with this thing.

finally got around to making a new section to manta's story, sent that in.

if someone could get me up to date with what's going on around here, that'd be cool beans.

Manta, Are you still a contestant if you've been gone for so long?

Awesome. I will go check those emails shortly. It's apparently a blessing in disguise that things were delayed so much that we're now in your summer break, because I certainly wasn't expecting to get replies for several days but already most of you have! This makes me very pleased, because apart from a family wedding thing I have to deal with, I happen to be on leave right now meaning we can move right along and finish this!

if someone could get me up to date with what's going on around here, that'd be cool beans.

Thanks to Hermit's good timing we're able to sneak in this update!

"The Feeld of Goodness"

(Mostly by Hectichermit)

As faint rumbles of the chaos that reigned in the distant city of Armor Games, the hermit fiddles with a new contraption he managed to piece together looking like an overlarge bagpipe with spindles of hoses connected to a humming munchanism that puffs white smoke. Grabbing a sack of these "Good Herbs" he thrusts a pipe into it and it begins to suck out the plant matter, a wheel spins and cranks churn the munchanism lets out a squeal of smoke that hisses, taking a deep wiff of the alleviating cloud the hermit mumbles "Ahhh, what a fine sample", normally those first exposed to such a strong anesthetic would pass out into a 2 day coma. But more then a decade of exposure and experimenting with mind numbing and distorting concoctions the hermit has developed an extreme resistance and mental stamina that an allure of toxins seems to radiate from his body, which tends to mask him an miasma. A few seconds pass and a green and orange tablet pops out of another tube that feeds into another but far smaller sack that rattles with at least 2 dozen other pellets.

The hermit looks across the field that stretches nearly half a mile across and wonders if he'll ever collect enough in time. As he begins to refill his empty sack he hears something barking from the the other side of the shrubs, another good herb, "Where is this hermit of yours Strop, Rawr", a kindling of spit fire burns a hole in the bushes which the hermit spies a large dragon, a purple cloud waifs towards him. Uninterested in his previous work, and irritated enough by the flagrant destruction of his precious garden the hermit marched towards the Dragon threw the growing cloud enveloping his hedgerows. The hermit reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of blue green liquid and pops open the cork. A flurry of energy engulfs the cloud and it turns from a meandering purple to a crackling thunderstorm of white energy.

As the others stare at the mysterious phenomena before them, the cloud rises into the air booming with lightning and sparking electrical maelstroms, a tornado forms at the center of the miniature hurricane and at the base holding up the vial the hermit smiling a scorning laugh "Hey YOU! DRAAGONE!", the hermit pops the cork onto the vial and throws it towards Devoidless, "Catch." The vial splatters across the hard scales of the dragon and seeps into his body. With a white flash the dragon is turned into a Dwarf, one thing dragons hate is dwarves because of the long history they share of fighting each other for gold and other trinkets. With a wicked grin the hermit struts towards the group.

"Hermit, what the hell!? I asked you to prepare the 'good stuff', not turn our transportation into a dwarf." Strop was clearly unimpressed, hands on his hips, fairly shouting while DM and Devoidless were still trying to figure out their new relationship dynamic now that the latter was no longer a dragon. "How are we going to fly back to the city now?" Devoidless found his voice, which was several shades softer and lighter than his original gravelly dragon grunt, so in trying to emulate his former glory, he ended up rasping like he was afflicted with laryngitis.

"Humph, What Kind of Ally is this Strop!? Attacking a moderator with such a device.", strop utters "Umm", the hermit interrupts "A Mod you say, well I though you were just a grumpy ole dragon who had stumbled upon my modest abode and decided to Burn thing, that is what dragons do, anyways I don't think mods from Armor City have much authority here so far from their niceties." Devoidless immediately started protesting, but Strop held his hand up, anxious to resume proceedings. "He didn't know, you were probably away on one of your trips when he arrived." Strop regains his previous train of thought, "Well what about the plan, Hermit?" the hermit remarks "O well this is not a problem, there is always a remedy, I am sure we could use another pair of hands and having a dragon huff and puff around the field isn't a good thing." Devoidless scorns the hermit, "Why you crazy little man if I wasn't in this despicable form I would show what a true fire was."

The hermit guides the others to a small shed next to a rickety cottage that had more plants and vines growing forth from it. Opening the shed with a word, "A magic Seal" the hermit remarks to the others, "if it were to be opened by others it would lead to unimaginable things." Waving a finger towards Strop beckoning him in, he walks a little hesitant towards the door, wondering what sorta things the hermit had stored there. A warm candle lights a room twice as big as the shed seems to be, the walls a solid stone, not a flimsy wood as the outward appearance looked the hermit taps on another door and a column of hanging contraptions fling out, "With these we can make these" pulling out a green and orange tablet, "These are a concentration of the Good Herbs, about 25 to one, so we don't have to carry tons of the plant. I think that a hundred should do for the size of Armor City, I have about 25 already" looking at a map on the wall, one of the ninja pony's own designs.

A few minutes later Strop goes and explains the contraptions to the others, Devoidless still trying to manage his new form, falling every once in a while, guess dragons are not so good on two legs. Strop continued onto "These things are suppose to keep us from passing out from the smoke exposure that the machine tends to release" Holding out what looks like to be pink goo" the hermit said that if you chew this it will counter act the intoxicating effects, he also mentioned it might have a slight(under exaggerated) numbing effect to taste for a few days"

After about 20 minutes of trial and error everyone began to understand the operation of the 'Autopillator', not long after they were steadily gathering samples from the field, as directed by the hermit they were suppose to collect the "Green Cabbages", though there seemed to be more then twenty other plants, some lovely some grotesquely abominable. The hermit had warned that the prettier ones tend to be more potent... as DM found out, not in being rendered unconscious, but suffering the side-effect of her hair turning a rather luscious shade of green (Strop elected not to notify her until after everything was over). After nearly an hour of hasty work they seemed to finally have more then enough of the pellets.

"Well," Strop said, dusting his hands. "I'm impressed, Hermit. You've really outdone yourself with that pill machine. If we live through this remind me to thank you more adequately."

After they return to the glade where the hermits cottage was the hermit offers a brew of murky brown liquid, some decline but the hermit insisted Strop has had it before...in its more underdeveloped stage. Warily, Strop drank it, belatedly realising that he couldn't taste anything anyway, but noticing that he did feel a little revitalised. The hermit pours a red drink that smells of sulfur for Devoidless, not wanting it the hermit hearty laughs "I guess you like being a Dwarf?" Devoidless instantly snatched it back and chugged it down, and a moment later in a puff of smoke and a thunderclap he was his dragon self.

"Why you little-" he began, reaching for Hermit, murder in his eyes. This time DM, back in her former role, snaked the whip around his claws and pulled them together. "We don't have time for that, 'voidy."

"No, especially not now," Strop said, peering out the window. "Look."

Over the horizon, in every direction visible from that window, people, vehicles, even planes approached. It seemed safe to assume that they were also coming from every direction not visible from that window.

"Great, we're surrounded," DM remarked dryly.

"Not to worry," Hermit assured her. "I have herbs for every occasion."

"Do you mean herbs for them, or herbs for yourself?" Devoidless snapped.

"How about you go, and I'll handle this lot," Hermit shrugged, rising. "I am the herbalist, you should not underestimate me."

Strop opened his mouth, about to say something, before clenching his fist and rising. "We should go. They're probably going to follow us anyway."

"You heard him 'voidy," DM said, cracking her whip. "Time for a running takeoff."

As they taxied onto the dirt path in the field, Hermit stood by the hut, watching the raiders close in. There were too many to count, surely if they all converged on the field there would not be room to even move. Strop tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

"Good luck," Hermit said. Strop settled himself onto Devoidless' tail, and readied his bow.

"Good luck and godspeed." With that, DM cracked her whip, Devoidless lumbered, then galloped down the dirt path, leapt up and with a mighty beat of his wings, pulled away into the clouds.

---

Looks like trouble for Hermit! Armed with the pills that could save the city, the trio hasten back to the walls. Has the other team been successful in their bid to place the marker? And what will become of Hermit, with certain doom closing in on his field?

I'm busy with wedding business for the next couple of days but I'll try to have something for you by the middle of next week. THIS IS REAL.

Now, what you are not seeing here is an update of the WoM.
There should have been one a few days ago, but Strop was busy playing the wedding march, so it got delayed.
As none of you probably know, he said he would update today instead, but due to having gone out with a couple of friends, and now being so drunk he is seeing double, he will delay the update yet another day, presumably until tomorrow Sunday, but this being yet another deadline, it might not work out.

Before Monday, at least. If this is the forthcoming Monday, or a Monday in October, we will find out tomorrow.
Either way, Strop is drunk, go harass him on his profile for tomorrow when he is hung over and still can't see straight.

Please, don't harass me on my profile, at least do it here >_<

I know. I KNOW. Consider this experience training for that scene where Manta hit the Tavern pretty hard after the round of 8.

Seriously though. Update is coming. Cen and I have been talking, we got it all planned

STROP, GO SLEEP IT OFF! Beeeeeeed! Go to it, sleep, wake up, take a piss, drink water, go back to bed, rinse repeat.