Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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Well, it's just in the nick of time for me, for I have ten minutes left in the day as I type this.
ARE YOU READY?
Sure you are.
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With a new day came a new hope, a new hope that Strop might come down with a terrible lethargy that would prevent him from getting up at the crack of dawn with the insatiable desire to jump and run and all that stuff.
No such luck, yet anyway. But ever the optimist (who was he kidding), Cenere noticed that Strop had, for once, deigned to walk the same ground as the mere mortals who used feet for walking and hands for handling things, and not all four limbs for hurtling oneself around at life-threatening speeds. Why would this be, though?
Cenere adjusted his glasses disapprovingly. "Strop, is this one of your errands again? I have exams coming up, you know."
"I know, I know, this'll be quick. I got an urgent message to come to the bank, so after this we'll get back to the business of throwing sh- I mean examining the victestants."
"Right, right..." The cool air of the bank engulfed them as they walked through the door. A relief, too, because it was shaping up to be another blazing late summer's day. The interior of the bank looked, even felt green as always, as if there was some calm yet crisp air of business and capital gain. Such an edifice, with its classical pillars and chandelier adorning the vast hall spoke of the modern attributes of the land of ArmorGames, namely, its ArmorPoint economy.
Strop strode to the counter at the yonder wall. Cenere glanced around- it sure looked far to the entrance, almost a mere speck of sunlight. Strop, meanwhile, leaned on the counter casually.
"Hi, I'm here to follow up a summons?"
Cenere, his back still turned to the counter, saw it coming. The red carpet being laid out, and what seemed to be an entire battalion of trumpeters emerge from the depths of the shadows and most importantly-
The sudden fanfare caused Strop to jump, the look of a spooked colt plastered across his ninja eyehole. The shrill brass melodies resounded through the bank, causing just about everybody to drop everything- except Cenere.
"Huh?" Strop rubbed his smarting ears and shook his head, recovering just in time to see a page in a wig standing before him, bearing a crown upon a cushion.
"By the powers vested in me, acting in my official capacity, I hereby crown you, Moderator Strop, an Iron King of Land of ArmorGames! All hail the king!"
"What? Huh? How-"
The page then smartly plonked the iron crown atop Strop's head and dropped to one knee. A mighty cheer went up, and then everybody in the hall of the bank did the same. Except Cenere.
Strop boggled. "I... uh, all rise? If you will, I must take my leave..."
With that, Strop made a beeline for the front door, Cen in tow being blasted by the trumpeters from both sides.
The hot air of the midmorning hit them again as they emerged. Strop wiped his brow.
"Some rock-star ninja you are." Cenere smirked slightly.
Strop pouted. "Hey, the one thing I'm not proud about is how many AP I have. It... it just reminds me of all the other things I should be doing with my life..."
"What's that supposed to me- nevermind." Cenere suddenly had visions of his deadlines approaching. "What will you do with the crown?"
"Oh, that." Strop looked up at the crown still perched atop his head. "I don't know, I never bothered to wear all the hats... it'll probably end up on the floor of my closet."
Just then, Strop's ear flicked to the side, just in time to catch the tail end of a remark: "-but it's not worth filching if it isn't gold."
Strop and Cenere looked down. Sitting, in their customary spot next to the entrance of the ArmorBank, were the street-kids, Richard and Garrett.
"Oh, fancy meeting you here, err..." Strop scratched his chin, then glanced questioningly at Cenere. Cenere rolled his eyes and flipped a few pages on his clipboard before prompting him: "Richard and Garrett."
"Ah, right, Richard and Garrett!" Strop nodded back at the duo, who glowered back at him from the ground. "I understand you are candidates in the Way of Moderation Trials?"
"Well," sneered Garrett, flexing his muscles ominously, "we ain't heard about it for so long we figured it was a sham."
This was met with an indifferent silence, for Strop was busy fishing around the burlap sack. Then he drew out his arm, holding up a curious object: it was a ball, except divided into four quarters of red, yellow, green and blue. A Compulse ball, to be precise.
Strop hefted it in his hands.
The ball flew straight through the air and smacked Garrett in the face. It bounced off harmlessly, leaving a shocked Garrett in its wake.
"Hey, what the he-"
"You're supposed to dodge. This is a test of your agility!" Strop laughed, before tossing another ball in the air and kicking it at the pair. This time, the ball hit Richard in the face. Richard flailed and fell over with a startled "Ow!"
Garrett saw red. "Nobody hurts Richard!" he roared, and charged at Strop.
"Oh now, that won't do at all!" Strop lectured. "You attacked me, and that's hardly becoming of a moderator."
"SHADDUP!" Garrett roared, his face a splendid shade of red. Strop merely cinched his arm higher, and the roar turned to a squeak.
Cenere coughed. "Ahem."
"What, Cenere, you know full well I'm acting in self-defence!" Strop pouted.
"That's not what I meant." Cenere pointed at Richard, who was valiantly kicking at Strop's shins. Strop, however, had failed to notice this, but being alerted to the situation, picked Richard up by the scruff of his neck. "That's a ban, young man!"
"Not fair!" Richard gritted, "You provoked us first!"
"I'll have you know that being provoked is something one must tolerate, no matter if you're a regular or a moderator! Now, off to the ArmorCourts we go!" And with that, Strop started frogmarching them along Index Road. "By the way, Cenere, could you pick up the balls? Thanks."
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"For Great Justice" was a popular motif of internet crusaders everywhere, but nonetheless the motto applied especially to the ArmorCourts. Like the gateway between government and the public that was law and jurisprudence, the ArmorCourt of Great Justice may have resembled the other district courts but in fact stood as the barrier between the rest of ArmorCity and the hallowed ArmorCastle. The only ones who had ever stepped through the barred doorway behind the judge's bench to the path leading to the moat of ArmorCastle were the Administrators, the Moderators and the legendary head developers that had built and were building the lands of ArmorGames as everybody knew it.
So it was with a mixture of amusement and horror that Strop arrived at the court to find several dazed and unconscious guards at the entrance, and, upon rushing inside, a giant banana standing on the bench, spitting on the back door.
"I'll show you!" The banana grunted between spits. "I'll become the true king of ArmorGames and you'll all become my slaves!"
Strop hastily directed Richard and Garrett to the witness stand. "Cen, could you watch these two?" Without waiting for a reply, Strop leapt onto the bench.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The banana whirled around and shot Strop a glare of disdain. "Don't interrupt me, peon. I'm claiming my rightful title."
Strop then noticed the crown on the banana's head, and put two and two together. So this must be the evil creation of the legendary god of madness, Zega. "Banana King, I presume. I knew you would come for the tournament."
Banana King drew himself up with an air of conceit. "Naturally you would recognise me for my birthright to the throne."
"Actually your reputation just precedes you." Strop held out an arm and his trusty Thor materialised in a puff of black smoke. "Come with me. We have a special place reserved for you. On the psychiatric ward of Armor Hospital, that is."
Suddenly, Banana King collapsed. Or rather, his skin collapsed. No sooner had Strop realised that the banana had and slipped his peel and split than a voice outside thundered:
Strop's reaction was immediate. He poofed his modphone: "Hi, yeah, this is Strop. Could you be on the lookout for a naked banana? Yes, naked banana. Wearing a crown. Yes. No, I'm not high. Thank you. Bye."
He then dispelled the phone, and turned to the witness stand. "Right, Cen, looks like- what the hell happened to you?"
With a split lip and a marvellous black-eye forming, Cen looked rather the worse for wear. More importantly, there was no sign of Richard or Garrett.
"Aw geez Cen, looks like you got owned. Do you need some ice for that bur- I mean, the swelling?"
"A holiday would be nice", Cen remarked drily.
Strop poofed his trusty white first-aid crate and started digging through it. "But school just started again! Anyway, this should help." He handed Cen a pack.
Cen eyed it. "Don't I get painkillers?"
"I don't carry painkillers," Strop responded. "Pain builds character."
Thus Cen's suspicions that Strop's blood consisted of pure adrenaline as opposed to a mere stimulant were engendered. "Anyway, we better get going. I'd like to get through everybody before the end of next week."
Yes, a holiday sounded wonderful right about now.
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Your Task: This is Dodgeball. By Dodgeball, I mean Strop and Cenere will ambush you at your location and start throwing balls at you.
Unless stated otherwise, these are Compulse balls. They are light so they won't kill you, but it'd obviously look better if you didn't get smacked around by them too much...though don't worry too much if you do...Strop is a healer...in training.
However, all of you will have specific instructions sent to you via email with a stimulus, based on which you are to write. Please wait until you receive this before proceeding.
1) This round is done in a specific order. As usual, do NOT post your entry on the thread until instructed.
2) As demonstrated, attacking Strop is not a good idea. Likewise, attacking Cen is also not a good idea. Sure you can if you want but be prepared to face consequences...
3) You are encouraged to use the setting (as described in the stimulus) to your advantage or disadvantage.
4) I don't expect people to do it perfectly, I expect the entries to be amusing and in character.