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

Aren't we the narcissistic one >>

And can't wait. I've been itching to find something that will get my mind off of irl issues :s

Aren't we the narcissistic one >>

I'll be sure to add that to the list...

Heeyy Strop....should I still be doing my work? You haven't emailed me in a while...

When do I need to get it done by?

One week after the 'strict' deadline and it hasn't finished...

Heeyy Strop....should I still be doing my work?

Of course, you're the one building the section! Time of completion will be in the order of some months.

Id just like to say, that in the next week and a half, I have many projects, papers, finals, and end of course exams coming up, so if there are any big rounds coming up in that time frame, then I'll prolly not get it in time.

To avoid too many problems.

Id just like to say, that in the next week and a half, I have many projects, papers, finals, and end of course exams coming up, so if there are any big rounds coming up in that time frame, then I'll prolly not get it in time.

Round 8

Crimson successfully persuaded Chill to fight him in a place that would give him the best advantage, the Wilderness. Of course its cut off from the rest of the forest leaving him access to none of the powerful objects that existed prior to this battle. Also he had to deal with it being winter which meant that the ground was most likely covered in snow. He looked over his profile of Chill that he created at the beginning of the competition. It seemed that he was some sort of cultist and apparently used something called majick. He seemed to be best with the element of water. It was likely that Crimson would have to make great use of his Programming Magic(formally known as Armor Magic). He knew that once something entered the Wilderness it was not necessarily an object unless it was able to react with the environment in some way. Thankfully for him his opponent was a very advanced object. One that would react with whatever is thrown at him, but of course Crimson also had to keep in mind that he was in the same vote. He could only do one thing at a time using this form of magic, but fortunately never got tired from using it, and once a spell is activated, it does not stop until told to do so, so long as there is a good while or for loop in it, but of course in a wrong one this could be disastrous, causing the world around him to slow down and eventually shut down. Once he was done looking over all of this information he went to the location that the battle was to take place in. He probably would never be as prepared as he would have wanted to be, but he had to make due with what he knew. He finally faced his opponent in battle. Things remained silent for a moment as neither of them made any movement. Chill was geared towards defense, and waited for Crimson to attack first. He knew that he had to make the first attack count, but what could he do? He pondered this for a moment, as he stood there out in the open. There were trees on either side of the small open field they stood at, if he could get to the ones behind him, he could use them as cover from his enemies ranged attacks, and formulate a better plan of attack from there, but needed some sort of distraction, and quickly. His blade was now an object, and could be recreated, and so he decided that seemed appropriate. He threw his blade at the enemy, immediately running in the opposite direction. He threw himself behind a tree barely missing a shot of cold ice, shot at him by Chill who easily dodged the weak throw. Crimson had to think what to do from here. His enemy was retreating to the other side to gain his own cover, and if he tried to run across the open field, he would get butchered by Chills attacks. At the same time he realized that the snow around his feet was moving slightly. His enemy was controlling it. The control seemed to be weak because of the distance in between him and his enemy, but he had to move quickly or have his feet encapsulated with ice. He ran to another tree even further back dodging a single long ranged attack his enemy threw at him, by of course doing a barrel roll. He thought on his feet, and remembered that he was an object. A quick spell that created instance of him would do well as a distraction. He put it together, and saved the spell, but needed an event to activate their creation, one of the weaknesses of programming magic during battle. He thought of the first thing he could, to have a simple hand movement activating it. Now that he compiled his spell, he was ready to go to battle. His feet were starting to get surrounded with ice again. He shook the snow off of his boots,and ran forward into the field, the patch of ice chasing him close behind. He activated the spell throwing instances of himself throughout the field. The one problem of course was that none of them were equipped with instances of his blade making them fairly weak in battle, but good enough to help distract his enemy...or at least he hoped. As they ran towards the enemy he shot them down one by one, all the while forcing Crimson to run straight towards him as he did not want to get caught by the ice chasing behind him. What he forgot was that as he got closer to Chill, his control over the ice got stronger, a foolish mistake. The ice grabbed a hold of his feet. He tripped, and his blade fell out of his hand, and he was trapped, with the ice around his feet slowly solidifying. Luckily he still had his hands and activated another 20 the attack Chill. They managed to reach him quick enough to force him to concentrate on them, enough time for Crimson to break free of the ice that had captured his feet before Chill activated an area effect attack that took them all out. Crimson crawled towards his blade shuffling backwards trying to get back up after he grabbed it, but before he could it was too late. Chill took advantage of momentary weakness, blasting ice at him. He blocked with his blade in both hands...a bad move. His hands and the handle of his blade were both completely locked together with ice. If it weren't for his gloves he probably would have needed to get them amputated, but regardless this made it impossible for him to activate his cloning spell, and also made his range of attack with his sword fairly limited as well. His only chance of winning at this point was to somehow strike Chill with his blade, so as to activate the Crimson Blade⢠collision with Chill event. A last resort enchantment, last resort because he doubted that he was going to be able to use it, but at this point it seemed that he had no choice but to try at least. He still had no chance of taking his enemy on directly and with his hand...not exactly able to be used to write a new spell, or activate most of his useful ones, he had very few options except for one dangerous spell he created for a game recently, his first game in fact. Orbs that would spawn at the top of the field at random, and would move straight towards the bottom of it, straight towards Crimson. He had very little time to think it over, so he activated the spell, by simply banging his foot against the floor. Chill didn't quite know what this meant of course, but who would. As he prepared to finish Crimson off, a orb flew past his ear. He looked behind him to see more coming towards him, one destroying a tree to his right. Crimson took this opportunity to stand back up and run towards Chill who somehow was a better multitasker then he had anticipated, shooting ice at Crimson, while dodging multiple orbs of death(something about that doesn't sound right, not too sure what though). The tree that Chill was hiding behind got quickly destroyed, as did many others around it. Every orb that didn't hit Chill could hit Crimson, and unfortunately up to that point meant all of them. He moved almost directional as he charged trying to dodge orbs without the ability to roll, which he found was not too easy(seeing as how rolling with a sword in his hands would probably not be too good of an idea of course). He of course couldn't dodge the orbs and his enemies spells forever. He took a few hits to the chest from his enemy, but nothing too heavy at first, it simply slowed him down. He pushed the attack, sprinting as best he could towards his foe, blade in hand. He was close, all he had to do was have Chill touch the blade. Chill hit him continuously, hitting his feet, his arms and even the bottom of Crimson's Blade(he made sure Chill did not hit the tip of it at the least), then he hit Crimsons shoulders, he could no longer move his arms, but he continued to charge towards Chill, who then struck his right leg with another ranged attack. He limped towards his foe, who was only but a few feet away, before Chill shot his other leg immobilizing him. He didn't expect to actually be able to strike Chill with a frontal attack, but that was not completely the point of his attack. While Chill attack him head on, he got distracted thankfully, and forgot about the orbs behind him. One hit him dead-on exploding, pushing him into Crimson's Blade activating the event. Chills speed was set to 0 and his health to 1 out of 100. He was immobilized and injured, and Crimson and his Blade both respawned, becoming unfrozen again. He knew such spells would only work in the Wilderness and that is why he convinced his opponent to fight here, but at the same time knew that any future opponents would probably not be so foolish as to try to fight him here again. He walked up to Chill and simply said
"Surrender and I will fix your wounds" Chill was in no position to argue and agreed, simply stating the words that would give Crimson his victory
"I have lost" Crimson struck him with his blade again activating a secondary event that would only activate if his health was set to 1, and Chill returned to normal. Crimson decided it would be best to simply leave Chill there and return to his Keep where it would be safe to wait for the next round...again.

~End

Right I guess looking back there are a few things that could have been done better, or explained in better detail, but at the very least I think I did this while listening to some heavy metal or something. I went ahead and made some grammatical fixes, and so that is what you saw there. Hope to see alts entry soon.

Lol, your entry is like double the length of mine. Do we need to be approved to post, or can we just go on and post our entries now?

Oh, nvm.

Here we go~


It had been agreed.

The place was a copse - moderately small, moderately forested, moderately interesting. At the day's apogee, Chill would face possible elimination at the blade of Crimson.

Chill spent time before the match packing up on fluids - being a master of water, Chill was always thirsty, but a bit of H20-loading would do no harm. Chill donned his favorite hoodie for the match. It was a blue number, like the others, with a poofy liner that kept him fuzzy and warm. The sleeves were cut a bit short to keep his hands freer, and the hood was short enough that it could cover his head but not obstruct his vision. He wore some tight exercise slacks and some tough running shoes. As a last, important touch, Chill stuffed his spork in pocket at his side rather than in his hoodie, and he trimmed his hair slightly away from his eyes. Cracking his knuckles, his clavicle, his spine, his toes, and finally downing a half-mug of green tea, Chill was prepared to fight. Remembering that he may have problems, Chill grabbed his asthma inhaler.

Appearing at the match a minute or so before Crimson, Chill met him and they shook hands. The Sun was off to the side, and thus was not impairing the vision of either one of them. They bowed, stepped back, and the match began.

Crimson drew his sword and darted at Chill. Chill avoided any cuts, but was knocked backward. He righted himself on a platform of ice, and his feet never touched the ground. Melting it, Chill directed it all around the copse, carrying himself on a fleet stream of water. Crimson's fingers were flicking around, and he summoned a pack of projectiles, which he fired, Chill deflected them all with a wall of ice. The sunlight reflected off the ice, creating a luminous spectacle. But Chill ignored it, knowing that a moment's lost focus could endanger his life.

Crimson then came forward, his sword drawn, and began slashing. Chill could see it coming this time, and dueled him. Summoning a pair of icicles, Chill's mind ran through his paltry knowledge of swordfighting.

Parry, riposte, counter-riposte, feint, slash, forward, back, footwork, footwork . . . don't let the edge hit you, you like all your limbs, Chill . . . .

Crimson overshot a slash, throwing him for a split second. Chill redid the evasion maneuver he had done earlier, but then decided to go on the offensive.

Creating a sphere of ice behind Crimson, Chill pulled it forward, knocking him over. Before Crimson could hit the floor, Chill knocked him back again with a geyser. Melting and retracting the water, Chill then formed a large whirlpool around himself.

Whirlpools were an easy formation. One had to only have the necessary volume of fluid handy to be able to form one. Then, the operator of the water had to create sufficient centrifugal force - something that wasn't difficult for Chill - and the whirlpool would be set. They were great defensive formations, and if they were set wide enough, which Chill had taken care to do, then the creator would have time to react if someone were able to break through the wall of rushing water.

Crimson had recovered fully, and was thinking of what to do to drop the whirlpool. He could judge by the way the sun reflected off it that it was moving too fast to break through, and the walls were too high and wide for him to use a tree to get in.

Flexing his fingers again, Crimson shot a wealth of arrows through the wall. The arrows served no offensive purpose, and went through anything they happened to come into contact with. But Chill didn't know that, and soon the whirlpool was down.

Crimson charged again.

Chill sidestepped.

Crimson turned around, but not in time.

Chill hit him with a small tsunami on his blade arm, catching Crimson in a tree. Chill's aim was spot-on; he made Crimson drop his blade. Crimson's cape and clothing were caught in the branches of the tree, and because he had no way to cut himself free, and struggling against the strong arbor was useless, the words almost didn't need to be said.

"I lose!" Crimson called out, and Chill gave his sword back so the defeated swordsman could cut himself free.

It was steadily growing darker in the amusement park. People were clearing out for the fight that was about to go down between Frank and Pixie. Strop and Cenere were seated in the highest compartment of the ferris wheel, so as to view any aerial encounters. Lights began to shut off around the park; the only ones remaining formed a rough circle around the area in which the victestants were permitted.
"I guess that's our cue," said Frank. He was sitting on the counter of a shooting range, strapping himself into his portacopter.
"I guess so," replied Pixie, leaning against a post. From the direction of the ferris wheel, they heard the screech of a megaphone. The next moment, Strop's voice filled the arena.
"You may begin."
Frank slid off the counter and yanked a cord on the motor of his portacopter. It gave a sput or two before speeding up to a quiet roar. The propeller blades mounted atop the motor began to spin, and Frank was lifted to the tips of his toes. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and flashed a wicked grin.
"You think you can keep up?" Frank challenged, before gripping the throttle and kicking off from the ground.
"I know I can," Pixie said to himself as he drew his cutlass and set off after the pirate. Moments later, both victestants were in the air, weaving in and out of the attractions, playing a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse. After trying to get Pixie off his tail, Frank led the chase toward the ferris wheel, accidentaly knocking his shoulder against Strop and Cenere's compartment. The pirate heard a shrill whinney before he was sent spinning out of control, and crashed onto the tracks of a roller coaster. Frank sat up, and noticed a bright light rushing towards him.
"Dammit, they left the rides on!" he said to himself before dropping off of the tracks and catching hold of a metal beam. Frank pulled himself up into a sitting position, and checked his portacopter for any damage. He noticed that one of the rods connecting the propellers to the engine was slightly crooked, and reached back to correct it. The rod came off, and Frank gave a sigh as he stared at it in his hand.
In his dispirited transe, Frank failed to notice the steady beat of wings, but he snapped out of it when he felt the tap on his shoulder.
"Found you," Pixie said, before kicking Frank in the back, sending him falling toward the ground. Just before Frank crashed, however, he felt himself suddenly stop, and was dropped the last ten feet to the ground. He looked up and saw Pixie hovering above him, smiling.
"What? It's no fun fighting a crippled opponent." Pixie slowly lowered himself to the ground, cutlass out by his side.
"Thanks," Frank said, before drawing his own sword.
"No problem."
"Oh, I don't know about that." And with that, the real fight began. The two victestants circled each other, both waiting for the first strike. Eventually, Pixie lashed out at Frank's side, but the pirate managed to parry the attack, and sent a counterattack toward Pixie's shoulder. Pixie raised his sword to block, and was knocked off ballance by the force of it. Frank moved closer, landing a blow square in the chest of his opponent with the butt of his cutlass, sending Pixie to the ground. Frank placed his boot on the wrist of Pixie's sword arm, and lowered the point of his own cutlass to Pixie's exposed neck.
"Do you admit defeat?" Frank said, just before his free leg was swept out from under him. "I'll take that as a no," he said, regaining his ballance in time to dodge a downward slice from Pixie's blade. They fought on, dodging, parrying, throwing increasingly messy blows, until Frank went for an opening in Pixie's side. Pixie moved his sword to deflect the attack, but Frank's move was a feint. The pirate spun, and brought his blade to a rest just before it reached Pixie's neck.
"Now..." Frank said through heavy breaths, "do you give?"
Pixie looked down at his own blade, sweat dripping down his chin onto the ground. He pushed Frank's sword aside, nodding his loss. Both the victestants fell to the ground, worn out from their fight.
"I haven't fought a skilled opponent in a long time, you know," Frank said, breaking the silence surrounding them.
Pixie chuckled, and through his own heavy breaths, replied, "You're not too bad yourself."
This rare moment of open respect from Frank having passed, the pirate fell onto his back and gazed at the night sky of Armorland. Some time later, Strop officially announced Frank's victory over the megaphone, and both victestants got up, shook hands, and left the amusement park.
--

I wonder when Pixie will post... I'm itching to know how things went down in his entry.

It was a clear day in and the sky was shining bright over the amusement park. there was no evidence of the wind that had battered the city in the previous night during a ferocious storm though it had left the ground sodden and slippery in places. The neatly kept surroundings of the park was perhaps not the best choice for a fight; at least for anyone who dind't want it to descend in to mud-wrestling.
Frank and Pixel stood opposite each other stating the other as intensely as possible. Pixel wasn't entirely sure what was being called of him here. For all the years he had been here violence was striclty forbidden; the number of times he had looked out his windows at the criminals on the street walking free and had to restrain himself was almost uncountable by now. However with all these thoughts swirling through his head he found it hard to maintain the penetrating stare onto.... onto.... his opponent? Enemy? Pixel didn't know whether similar thought were running through his own mind or whether, being a pirate, he was blood-curdlingly focused on the matter in hand. In any case Pixel was a pirate fanatic he loved nothing more than playing Monkey Island games and his mouth curled upwards into a smile with the anticipation of meeting a real pirate, even if it wasn't quite the same as the tales of old. However this smile soon faded as Pixel noticed that Frank and the seemingly ever-present Strop and Cenere were shaking their heads; it seems the slight curl of the lip had turned unknowingly into a grin like a molar filled wedge of edam that indicated to the rest Pixel was probably in a very different mind-set to the other figures here. Pixels face soon returned to its usual apathetic expression but the silence didn't last long...... "Frank?!? what are you doing with that Bow?" quizzed Strop. Cenere withdrew his hand cupped around Strops ear; it would seem he had been reminding the Moderator of the rules and parameters of this paticular bout. "eerr.... eeerr.... I wasn't going to use it" Frank simpered "I jsut brought it with me.... ya know for moral and stuff; it's ever so nice" While Frank looked up hopefully at the two officials Pixel started at the powerful bow apparently glad that he would not have to avoid its projectiles. "Now" said Strop "the rules here are simple, it is a gentlemans fight so no hitting below the belt et cetera I want to see a cleanly fought battle between you (well hopefully not too clean he thought). Your cutlasses are the only weapons you are too use; no long bows Frank. Fists and kicking are allowed but no fighting; the use of any other kind of weapon will be subject too scrutiny by me and Cenere here. The amusement park has been chosen as the location for the fight to give you lots of room horizontal and vertical, though heep in mind me and Cenereneed to referee you so I suggest you don't go too far" Strop flicked his index finger up to the sky indicating he wasn't prepared to follow them up there "and unsuprisingly I want a good clean fight but remember what is at stake and what victory could mean". Cenere stepped forward and took the long bow off of Frank who watched as it was taken away and placed lent up against a tree while Pixel seemed to be getting somewhat built up by the occasion and was boring a whole in the mud with the sole of his shoe.
"Now turn your backs and I want you to take ten paces before you turn and the fight will begin" ordered Stop; the too men nodded their understanding and after one more glare at each other turned. As Frank and Pixel started to march away from each other Cenere trudged to the other side of them so the too referees had a comprehensive view of the competitors. Eager to get on with the bout as both competitors touched their foot down on the tenth pace they spun round on their heels and, slighlt slipping on the sodden grass and mud, charged at each other. as the neared each other Frank anticipated Pixel would go high using his wings so he leapt just as they two were about to collide. However Pixel lent back and slid on the mud through the jumping legs of Frank and twisted his body round allowing him to grab a firm hold of Franks ankle. Frank, suprised at the sudden disapearance of Pixel behind him, was dragged down onto the ground and his face slapped into the mud. Pixel stood up and started to brush the mud of his hands wiping it on his jeans while frank turned over covered from head to toe in the brown sludge. But before Pixel could feel good about himself (it would have been an unusal feeling for him anyway) Frank twisted his feet around Pixels ankles and pulled him over tripping him into what had previoulsy been fresh green grass but was now fast turning into a mire. Rather than wrestle on the floor the two stood up as Strop and Cenere looked on tutting at the scene that was unfolding before them. After wiping the mud from their eyes with their muddy hands, barely improving their vision at all, the two competitors started started stepping clockwise carefully placing their feet into the slippery mud (neither wanted to fall and give an advantage to the other). Waiting for an opening they stepped round for several minutes until Frank lashed out a kick that struck Pixel in the gut leaving a jagged boot shaped imprint on the thin pixies abdomen. As Pixel stumbled back feeling a bit winded Frank took another swipe with his leg wirling round tryiong to put as much power into it as possible; but fortunatly for Pixel this vicious attempt missed entirely. Though Pixel felt fine he continued to back away slightly crouched trying to encourage Frank to go on the offensive again. This tactic worked and as Frank swung his leg forward for the third time Pixel grabbed hold of the flailing foot and leapt into the air dragging Frank some 20 feet into the air. With Frank swinging wildly and trying to wriggle free Pixel hovered over to the lake that was still bulgin from the previous nights heavy rain threatening to over run parts of the lower-lying bits of the field. Pixel let his grasp on frank loosen slightly letting frank drift slowly down towards the deep water and glanced over at the nodding Strop before releasing his grip altogether. Frank plunged into the cold, dark water with a small yelp hardly befitting of a pirate and flailed his limbs as he tried to stay afloat with his heavy boots and jacket holding him down. Strop and Cenere had moved over to the side of the lake and Pixel flew down to stand beside them keeping an eye on Frank to make sure he wasn't going to sneak up on him. "Is that it yet?" asked Pixel "you know I'm not a fighter I'd much prefer to go home; have you seen the state of me?"
"Calm down" said Stop " you know you're having fun really.... and no it's not over he has to say he's lost before it's over and at the moment he closer to drowning than admiting defeat". With that Pixel took another glance at Frank to make sure he wasn't about to attack again or drown entirely since this would forfeit the round for Pixel. Almost begrudglingly Pixel hovered up into the air and flew out over the water to where Frank was and grabbed the back of his collar pulling him closer to the shallows so he could reach the floor of the lake. As Frank trudged out of the water Pixel walked up the closest hill up a winding path leaving the three figures of Frank, Strop and Cenere behind him. Frank walked past the two referees gasping for breath and looked around for where Pixel had gone his eyes scanned the landscape and sighed when he saw Pixel stood up at the top of what seemed like a mountain to the out of breath Frank. Pixel was now sat calmly on the ground beckoning Frank upawards. Frank stumbled onwards up the hill leaving a trail of water behind him as his clothes dripped dry as he winded up the path staring and concentrating all his energy onto Pixel. He reached the top and was about to lunge impatiently at Pixel when the pixie dodged sideways and extracted his rubber chicken from his pocket and used it as a skate to weave his way down the hill as fast as he could. Frank tunred slowly in desperation looking down at yet another energy-sapping walk in his heavy water-logged clothes. Frank stepped forward shuffling slowly letting gravity pull him down the hill. Pixel swerved right and left keeping on the path and avoiding the mud; as he reached the foot of the hill he skidded round to monitor the pirates progress. It was slow and he was visibly jaded from the trek up and now down the hill. When Frank finally drew near to Pixel he moved his hand to the hilt of his cutlass. Pixel, perhaps feeling over-confident, missed this move and was shocked to feel a burning pain as Frank stabbed the blade forward; it missed Pixels torso and instead sliced cleanly through the delicate wing of the pixie. He winced in pain and turned sideways clutching at his own cutlass. While Frank, exhausted, built himself up for another strike Pixel wurled round and hit Frank in the face with the silvery blade. Strop and Cenere gasped; they were stood some distance away and feared that Pixel had done something unspeakable. But Pixel had slapped his Frank with the flat edge of his cutlass leaving a red mark on the pirates cheek; the lack of blood allowed the referees to sigh a sigh of relief a death would most likely have resulted in a lot of administration and paperwork. While Frank rubbed the side of his face, his cheek clearly smarting, Pixel raised his arm to swing down another stroke of his cutlass. But in a last ditch attempt to gain an advantage over Pixel Frank lunged forward at Pixels legs however Pixel dodged sideways and as Frank sprawled face down in the mud Pixel placed his foot into the small of Franks back and pointed his cutlass at the back of the pirates neck. Pixel stared up at the referees rushing over and asked "is this good enough?",
"NO!" said Cenere apparently not too pleased at Pixels enthusiasm for this to be over..... and his apparent lack of understanding about the rules. "You only win when he adimits defeat" explained Stop reiterating his earlier point. Pixel had by now put his cutlass away and had instead placed his knee in the small of fRanks back and his hand on Franks head forcing his face into the mud. "So?....." asked Pixel "do you accept defeat? I don't think you're exactly in a position to win".The mud gargled and bubbled around Franks mouth until Pixel lifted his arm and allowed Frank to lift his head fromt he swill. "No I can still get out of this.... I'll never say it" said Frank in a rather unconvincing tone. Cenere shook his head slightly at Strop they both seemed worried this fight may go on for a long time of Frank would not give up. But Pixel, wanting to return to his home, took out his cutlass again and lowered it into Franks eyeline and repeated his question hoping this new encouragement would change Franks' answer. With a huge sigh at what he had no real choice what do to Frank stated "I lose... ok?!?!? I've lost I give in" Pixel looked around at the referees who seemed pleased that this was a sufficient admission of defeat.
"Well that's that...." Said Stop "Pixel I am happy to inform you that tou are the victor and that you have succesfully made Frank admit defeat" Cenere nodded slightly as if to confirm this result and Pixel put his cutlass away and helped Frank up offering his hand out to shake. The two competitors shook hands and looked at the mud now caking themselves and began to wonder whether it was worth it though the rare smile on Pixels face suggested it was. Frank slowly edged off not wanting to hang around fearing some kind of ridicule for being beaten by a pixie but Pixel stood there with his eyes closed enjoying the warmth of happiness he felt so occasionly. Eventually Strop poked Pixel on the shoulder to bring him back to the amusement park and again congratulated him on his victory while Cenere just gave the pixie a nod to say well done.
That evening Pixel sat there with his headphones on listening to the Happy Song on full blast feeling excited at his days achievements the fire crackling and warming the room left Pixel snug wrapped up in his large four-poster bed and he felt like it was perfect moment in his life and eagerly anticipated the close future. Meanwhile Frank was in his bathroom searching though his medicine cabinet for a bandage there was a small cut on his arm and he needed to stop the bleeding; he was feeling miserable from his defeat but glad that he had not been hurt too much. He say down in the edge of his bath and wrapped the soft bandage round his forearm and secured it all the while thinking about what could have been....

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I wonder when Pixie will post...

Can't wait for thoad to post. I just know he came up with something interesting...

And now I realize that I used Pixie instead of Pixel throughout my whole entry. Derpy derp derp :/

And utter humiliation wasn't what I was expecting, but it worked well, apparently. I enjoyed reading your entry, Pixie.