Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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Okay, this is a test post, and also a sample of how I'm stringing all the stories together. It will be posted in its entirety in the Archives.
Shortly after the Incident at the Armor Courts
'Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz' was the sound coming from KingRyan as he slumbered on the library desk. He lay on top of an open book, which was titled: The History of Every Brick of ArmorCastle...some light reading he had picked up for the day. The page that he was on contained this picture:
So, as you can imagine, KingRyan was fasssst asleep.
Suddenly, there was a creak from the other side of the room. And footsteps. Of course, who could it be but Moderator Strop and his side kick Cenere. The dubious pair tiptoed up to where KingRyan sat asleep, Strop giggling like a little girl.
After stealing right up to where the geriatric sat, Strop pulled out a piece of paper and stuck it to KingRyan's back.
'Is that necessary?,' remarked Cenere in a snide voice?
Strop just giggled more and pulled out a small and colourful ball, before replying:
'Meh, its KingBogan, he deserves his title....now, do you think we should wake him up first?'
This question was answered for him as KingRyan gave one last grunt and then abruptly sat up. Noticing this, Strop leant forward and tapped him on the shoulder.
'ARGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!! WHAT? WHO'S THERE? SHOW YOURSELF!!!!!!' screamed KingRyan.
'Calm down bogan, its only me!' replied Strop.
'HOW DARE YOU SCARE ME LIKE THAT! I COULD HAVE HAD A HEART ATTACK, YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT BEING A DOCTOR AND ALL!!!!!' ranted KingRyan.
'Meh, lets get this over and done with...' commented Strop calmly before jumping into the air and performed a manouver something like this:
The ball flew through the air and hit KingRyan deftly in the forehead with a resounding 'whumph.'
'What...did...you...do...that...for...?' said KingRyan with increasing rage, a red mark already forming on his forehead. Seeing Strop pull out another ball, KingRyan grabbed his quill and quickly drew a square shield in the air. As he finished it, he tapped the middle with his quill causing it to become solid, floating in mid air. The ball hit it and fell to the ground..
'That's not going to save you old man...' commented Strop, as he motioned to Cenere to throw some balls too. Well, ditch not throw.
KingRyan knew he was in trouble, his shields of ink would not be able to withstand the onslaught, so he turned to the desk and picked up the book he was reading earlier.
As he turned around he heard the whoosh as the balls flew through the air at him, so he began to swing the book around to hit the balls just like a cricketer.
*CRACK* The book fell out of his hands as KingRyan fell to the ground in agony. The crack had come from somewhere in his lower back, rendering him immobile. If there was one positive to come out of this situation, he dodged both balls perfectly.
Strop and Cen now advanced, wielding two colourful balls each.
'Come on guys...is this necessary?' whimpered KingRyan
'Of course it is!!' was Strop's reply, somewhat manically.
'Oh...ok...why though?' questioned KingRyan.
'Err...umm....err...well...you see...Cen will explain it.'
Once again, Cenere was put on the spot...and this time he had no cue cards.
'Well, as you can see...this is clearly a test for the Way of Moderation' gabbled Cenere, before adding, 'So shut up and lets get this over with.'
And then, quite meanly, Strop and Cenere proceeded to ditch balls over and over at KingRyan from about a metre away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Waaaaiiiitttt!!!!!!!!!!! Oi, you, yes you...out there...Writing this stuff...It's KingRyan, your character. Remember me? You're not going to just have me lay there and get pelted with those balls are you? That isn't very nice! Write something better....
~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Strop tapped KingRyan on the shoulder, KingRyan spun around screaming and punched Strop in the face. He then jumped into the air and fly kicked Strop in the face, knocking him into a bookshelf. The bookshelf teetered for a little bit, before falling down and crushing Strop all the way to Newgrounds.
Cenere stood by with a amused look on his face, until KingRyan did another fly kick and got him square in the gut. Happy at his efforts, KingRyan sto~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, do you want to win this competition or not? I really think that being that strong against Strop isn't a good idea, and since when could I fly kick? I'm an old man for heavens sake! Just scrap that idea and finish the first one...*sigh*
~~~~~~~~~~~
As KingRyan lay on the ground groaning, Strop and Cenere left the library. Not much was out of place, except the heavy volume KingRyan had used to defend himself, which lay open on another page which held a curious illustration of several Admin staff making the bricks of ArmorCastle...
But that, is another story...
---
"Did you have to do that?" Cen's face was visibly twitching as the pair meandered through the back streets of the Art Music and Writing sector of Armor City.
"Do what?" Strop was being his usual oblivious self. Or maybe that was pretending to be oblivious. Cenere could never quite tell.
"Wreck the library. It's literary blasphemy," Cenere disapproved.
Strop gave a short laugh, "Let's just say that there comes a time when even archives need reformatting. I merely provided KingBogan with the incentive to do so!"
Cenere was about to retort when Strop suddenly stopped, causing Cenere to collide with him. Readjusting his glasses, Cenere glimpsed a familiar figure, ruminating over the great brass plaque affixed to the wall of the Imaginarium. "He's... big."
Strop held out a hand. "There's no telling what this guy will do... but don't worry. I have a plan. Stay right here!"
"But-" was all Cenere could manage before Strop whisked the bag off his shoulders and sprinted into the open.
---
"Hello, Stallion Man," the Bullman said when he saw the black-clad anthrohorse standing in front of the domed Imaginarium. He realized his mistake too late when he saw, through the hole in the mask, that the horse in front of him was bay and not black-and-white. This was the other horse from the Amphitheatre that did gymnastics, which was no different to the ballet that Stallion Man employed. Just because they're fast, they think they can show off with their fancy acrobatics. Perhaps he had made moderator already and "Strop" was here to inform him.
"This is the first trial. Your challenge, 'The Bullman', will be to dodge everything I throw at you."
"Easy enough," the Bullman replied confidently. Any challenge from a horse was going to be easy.
"Furthermore, the Imaginarium is chaotic, so the stuff I throw at you turns into random objects."
Without warning, a ball revamped ball shot through the Imaginarium wall and instantaneously exploded into a fine mist. This pathetic attempt amused the Bullman until the fog expanded and engulfed him so that he could see no further than a few feet in front of his nose ring. He reached for his rubber ducky. Showers of rubber duckies pummeled him and knocked out the one he was holding. He searched along the ground for his weapon but all her found were squeaks. It all seemed too organized to be random. Overhead, he could've sworn he heard a train pass, if his mother had not taught him that swearing was bad. The loud crunch that followed strengthened his belief.
A stapler struck him on the head and luckily it was pointing the other way. There was no conceivable way for the Bullman to complete the challenge. Not only was he twice as big as most of the contestants, he was also four times as slow. He was genetically predisposed to fail. His mother never let him take Pilates or whatever it was called. He recoiled in disgust as a horseshoe rounded his horn. If he hadn't, he would've been stricken with grief.
The Bullman took another hit to the head, this time a physics dissertation on d-branes, before giving up his search. He stumbled around trying to dodge the objects flying at him through the thick fog. A typewriter caught his left hoof and he slammed into a railroad car. It definitely was a train that flew overhead. The Bullman stood and twisted his body to barely scrape by a balloon.
In a blaze of confusion he managed to tackle himself or rather, a doppelganger tackled him. An explosion rocked the two and the doppelganger dissipated into a thought. A broach bounced off his chest, as did a calculator, a wooden spoon, a double-paned window, and bowling pin. He rolled to a sitting position before being knocked down again by a sewing machine. With a grunt, he heaved the sewing machine into the fog, hoping that it would hit Strop and maybe end the barrage. A lithograph of a rabid squirrel carrying a bowl of spicy chicken curry shot out from the fog, followed by a rabid squirrel carrying a spicy chorizo. The lithograph momentarily blocked his vision before he caught the squirrel by the chorizo and tossed it aside.
Determined to complete the first trial, the Bullman started off the ground with a burst of strength before being hit by failure. And then a ball revamped ball, and a ball revamped ball, and another ball revamped ball, and another ball revamped ball, and one final ball revamped ball. It was over. It had to be over. The Bullman rolled up once more to a sitting position.
When the fog cleared, the damage was more apparent. The train wreck had taken out a portion of the southwest corner of the library. Several buildings around the Imaginarium were on fire, one of which belonged to that rabbit guy who wrote of his grand exploits. The Bullman could only guess what happened to those buildings, but the blackened and burning objects (ten times more objects than he had seen) between him and the Imaginarium left little to the imagination. He was bruised, but not too badly. While equine acrobatics could've helped with the challenge, he thought that he could take on Strop in combat if he wanted to even in his current condition. A guttural groan escaped the Bullman's lips as he leaned against the side of the train.
"Donât worry," Strop said. "Iâm a healer... in training."
---
The Bullman's injuries were found to be more the product of a bruised ego than anything else, so Strop had him dispatched for admission to Armor Hospital for a mild case of shock and referred him to the psychological counselling services (or at least wrote it in the order- there were no psych services in ArmorGames). Then he surveyed the scene with a mixture of morbid fascination and glee.
"Well, we've gone off to a smashing start!"
"I see you managed to smash the library some more. And my studio, too", remarked a dry voice.
It was true. Along its way to the library, the passenger carriages of the train had plowed through several studios, including the modest shack that belonged to Cenere.
"Whoops," Strop said. Then after a little pause, "If it makes you feel any better, I also smashed mine."
That, too, was true. Strop's own studio, originally far less modest, had a giant hole carved right through its center, the probable victim of a ball that had transformed from revamped to cannon. "Meh, I'll fix it later, we must press on!"
"If you don't destroy the whole of ArmorCity before then..."
"Shhh, don't jinx it!"
---
Crimson was still waiting preparing to enter again into the ASC after Zophia said it was OK when he saw a colorful ball coming towards him. In the Community Hall this could mean anything, but he found out quickly that it was a threat when it him his arm that he used to guard his face from it. The ball ricocheted off of his arm and bounced on to the floor like an under-inflated basketball would. He had a small glimpse of it and realized it was one of Johns creations. He didn't quite understand what this was, but just assumed it had something to do with the WoM. He took a look at the ball to make sure it didn't have any type of special message on it like the way ninjas typically give out messages, but of course instead he got hit upside the head with another ball. It was at that point that he figured out this was actually a test. He took out his blade and prepared for another one to come after him. He saw it and swatted it like he was playing a deadly version of racket ball, but of course since it was created through a spell made by one of the administrators. It was destroyed, but simply respawned and and hit him in the face again.Destroying them was simply not going to work. So at this point he probably wouldn't be too surprised if he got a bloody nose from this.
"Time to change tactics". He looked around and saw the next one flying at him. He did a gears of war style roll out of the way, and saw it hit a stick figure entry off its pedestal....maybe for the better I suppose. He looked back in front of him to see two of these things headed towards him. He dodged the first to only put himself in front of the other. This one hit his foot somehow stubbing it in the process. After jumping around for a couple of second he saw OVER 9000!!!!! more of them coming at him. So he did what anyone else would do in the same situation. Thats right hide behind the art comp pedestal where the winning art is, and hope they can't hit him there. He ran towards the pedestal at first almost getting tailgated on his way there. He hid behind it when all the balls flew around him. Then came the one thing he forgot. The balls could change direction. The magical arrows appeared all around him, all pointed in his direction.
"I never liked that game anyways" he jumped out of the way as they all hit the back of the pedestal almost knocking it over. The art pieces including his champions exhibit got knocked over.
"Good thing that was a replica". He realized though that these projectiles could be manipulated, and he had basic knowledge on how to use Armor Magic 3.0 so he came to the quickly conclusion that he would have to try and create his own directional arrows to send them in the opposite direction. He grabbed two of his old art pieces and used them as shields.(somehow they are more effective then his sword against admin magic which is sad). He got into a corner of the community hall and put the pictures in front of him having them pelted instead of him, and he used this defense to give him time to created a spell to counter admin magic. He created a simple arrow not even knowing the class of spell that he was trying to counter. He threw it up towards the balls outside of his shields. The balls just went straight through the arrow like it didn't exist. He realized then that compulse balls ran on old magic, also known as Armor Magic 2.0 so he would have to make his spell using a form of magic he didn't know well enough. He had only one choice...Google Magic!!! He pulled out his Google scroll and asked it for an Armor Magic 2.0 directional arrow spell. It gave him what he wanted after first telling him that he should go buy 15 different products first. He grabbed the spell and threw it at the compulse balls. This time with success, but some were still getting through and he couldn't hide forever, so he had to make an escape. He brought out his map of tunnels in AG. He found one in the community hall that had yet to be patched up yet. It allowed him access to areas that were not opened up yet because they were under construction, and so all he had to do was get to this tunnel. He grabbed his "shields" and threw a few more instances of his directional arrow spell up into the hall. He looked around as he ran towards the tunnel that the whole hall had been totaled and people that he forgot were even there were all over the place either knocked out because a ball hit them accidentally or were freaking out because they thought a hacker was attacking the hall. A majority of the art was knocked over, had footprints on them, and for some reason some of them were even being set on fire.
"Nothing new here really from what I can tell" he finally got to the tunnel and jumped in at the back of the long hall. From this area he could crawl his way out of the hall back into the main area of the site. He had to think of the one place where he could escape and be safe from these things....
"To the Crimson Keep!!!"
---
Strop and Cenere searched for the mysterious Crimson but he had well and truly given them the slip. "That's actually quite impressive," Strop said. He knew full well that Crimson, being one of the original veterans of ArmorGames, alongside the likes of King "Since Beta" Ryan, knew the ins and outs of the city as well as the secrets buried by a city's constant evolution. Thus it would have been far too much trouble to scout him out for the sole purpose of pelting him with more balls.
The sun started to set on this day of the trials, and Cen and Strop retired to the tavern, for even a ninja horse with caffeinated blood had to eat.
"Weren't you a judge of the ASC once?" Cenere felt his insides twist at the recollection of the scene that had taken place earlier in the day.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"You... just wrecked the ASC." Cenere could not explain himself. Nor did he feel he had to, surely the horror at the travesty was plenty apparent in that statement in itself.
"Not really. I mean, by the time Zophia gets to it, it won't matter!" Strop giggled. "Not that I was much better, I mean that's why I quit..."
Zophia had gained the reputation for her flexibility over deadlines, but in the face of such callousness, Cenere found himself compelled to speak out. Once again, he held his tongue.
They found themselves outside in the (thankfully) cooling air, staring at a high tower of ice. At least that's what it looked like, a scaffolding of ice encasing a tall spindly structure nearly as tall as Strop's tower. And hammered into the grass at the base: "DYSTOPIA".
"I'm pretty sure that's a violation of building codes," Strop muttered, probably more worried about such a structure blocking his view of ArmorCity, or, worse, somebody being able to actually see directly into his room.
Cenere was already flipping through his notes. "That belongs to Chill, Grandmaster of George."
"Oh really now?" Strop rubbed his hands together. "Then I guess we might as well pay him a visit now."
"Can't it wait?" Cenere had barely started on his meal.
"Better we do it now. I... have my reasons."
"And what might those be?" A hungry man was a grumpy man, after all, and this was about as querulous as Cenere was going to get.
"Well, see, he got banned in an infraction some months ago...while registered for the WoM. So as, er, punishment I laced his coffee with senna and LSD today. A lot of it. It should be kicking in about now."
Cen didn't bother asking why or how Strop got his hands on an illegal recreational drug, mainly because he didn't want to become an accessory to a crime he didn't commit. "Fine, let's go then," he sighed.
---
Coffee. He needed to finish his coffee.
Sip, sip, sip. He finished the cup quickly, before returning to work on Dystopia 2. He had to finish. With haste.
A knock came at Chill's door. He got up to answer it, before falling to the floor. His stomach tightened like a thousand microscopic boa constrictors were squeezing it. He got up, a soft 'urgh' escaping his lips, and he opened the door.
He did not like what happened after that.
The Compulse ball flew forward, smashing into his shoulder. A well-dressed, blond man caught it, and greeted him surprisingly cordially.
"Hello, Chill." The man said, sounding Scandinavian.
"You must be Cen . . . ."
"You're right about that."
Cen's arm went back as he was about to make another throw - but then, seemingly out of nowhere, Chill was hit again. An expert shot flew over Cen's shoulder, catching Chill square in the gut. This brought on yet another cramp. After he had recovered from the potshot, he noticed something. The wooden floors were ablaze. He jumped up, backing against the wall . . . before lurching forward at the site of the razor wire he was leaning up against.
A meteor exploded from Cen's hand. Chill ducked, dodging it, then he bolted. He was headed for the 98th page. For Mr. Gnome.
A ninja dropped in front of him, wearing A mardi Gras mask and an LGBT rights T-shirt. He was holding a rubber band ball, and appeared to be walking with pixie sticks for legs. He proceeded to toss the rubber band ball - a simple matter for some frozen air to stop. Chill grabbed Mr. Gnome, using his lazor to seal the fire escapes and other exits besides the one he was taking. After this surprise, Chill ran again, down tro the Heart of the dystopia - the final boss floor.
the staircase was a centipede - grabbing at Chill's legs, making him jump and tumble down the steps. He was almost there . . . pushing through the anthropomorphic door, he made it into an open room.
An army of hamsters. Barreling to him. They knocked hi m down and strated jumping on his stomach. "Stop! Ow!" His stomach cramped as they kept on pounding the center of his digestive system. To make matters worse, the lights were shining excruciatingly brightly . . . .
Chill froze a dome over his prostrate form to block the Compulse balls from Cen and Strop, before stopping to attempt thinking. He knew enough of the structure of the place to know that the main support was in the center . . . .
Suddenly, the ice dome was shattered by a hooved foot. Getting up, Chill continued to run, still being chased by ninjas and hamsters.
He was tripped up by yet another spherical object - he couldn't tell what it was - and he fell on the floor. He was so close . . . .
He stumbled to his feet, backing up, before looking down. The wood floor appeared to drop off into a slick, white nothingness - a linoleum chasm. With Cen and Strop closing in on him, he had nothing else to do . . . he folded his arms to his chest, closed his eyes, and fell backward into the chasm.
. . . KONK . . . .
Jolted from his induced serenity almost immediately, Chill sat up, only to be knocked down again by a ball to the face. He was now bleeding both from the back of his head and the depths of his nose, lesving a trail of lukewarm pain behind him as he continued to flee.
Chill was relieved and frightened - he was in the heart of the dystopia, but he coulkd barely see a thing. Everything was scrambled . . . except for one statue. The Alt statue, the pin holding all of Dystopia together - it stood firm to Chill, probably because the gold body, platinum pants, silver underwear, Taffeite eyes, and woven adamantium clothing all cost about 200,000 AP in donations and his own money.
And so, it was all he could do to escape. He had no choice.
He ran, even while the hamsters continued to pound on his stomach, to the Big Red Button of Eternal Woe.
He pressed it.
From there, the statue groaned, before collapsing into a fine powder, which materialized inside a freezer bag. Taking the bag, Chill ran for the fire escape. He had to get outside, and fast.
Stepping into the eerie stillness of the Armusement Park at night, Chill hoped for the best. He dodged Compulse ball after Compulse ball, biding his time. Then, it came.
"Just as I thought would happen . . . ." Chill said as the entire Dystopia structure veered to the right and snapped. It fell right where Chill thought it would . . . the biggest thread in Armorland history. The "Rate the Above 'User's Fame" complex. All 1370-some pages of it.
The RPG building speared through the main core of the building, smashing the key supports. Some flame Magik alighted the facade, burning it away quickly. (the fire burned at OOOOOOOVVVVERRRRR 9000!!! degrees Kelvin). The remaining supports of the building went molten, and then Strop, Cen, and Chill all saw the most chilling, fantastic sight in Armorland history.
Millions of AP, almost 1400 thread pages falling to the ground at freefall speed . . . the largest thread and the largest RPG lay ion ruins, expelling a wave of dust which knocked them all down to their backs, and into the realm of unconsciousness.
When he woke up, Chill could see clearly again. The sun was at its apogee, and he was covered in footprints. Sitting up, he woozily asked a passerby " . . . did I win?"
You know for some reason something in my brain told me to make this...
Good, coz here we gooooooo!
---
"Can't we take a break? It's really hot."
Strop looked at Cen incredulously. "But it's only just past noon!"
Looking at him, Cen could not understand how the ninja horse had not passed out from heat-stroke. Not only did he have fur, but he was wearing black coveralls and a mask and he had been running and jumping non-stop since after breakfast.
"Come to think of it, I might need to trim my summer coat again, but..."
Well, that was one question answered. Cen wiped his brow, flicking the sweat of his hand. "But what?" he automatically replied.
"But these clippers have been reserved for another use today." Strop nonchalantly twirled two battery-operated razors in his hand. Cen found his hands reflexively going to his ponytail. It was still there.
"Right, I wonder... anyway, care to tell me why we are sitting in the middle of the bushes?"
"What- oh, yes." Strop whisked out a pair of binoculars from his ninja suit. "It's an ambush."
"Huh?"
"As you know, several of the victestants live on Aristocrat way... the poor devils." Strop sniffed away an imaginary tear before continuing. "These misguided souls, do they not yet know of-"
The Armor Madness of Aristocrat Alley
Aristocrat Alley was the Lombard Avenue of San Fransisco, the Mayfair of London, the Hollywood Heights of Los Angeles, the high end of town in any and every way. A winding cobblestone path of precisely one hundred houses, each more opulent than the last until the proverbial Neverland ranch of the recluse known as Firetail. The residents here were the who's who, the bees knees, the rich list of ArmorCity, and as such there was much talk, much suspicious talk of exactly who did what to get where. In the past it was well known that many of these figures, now departed of course, had secured their place through less than scrupulous means: the founding of dummy companies and ghost accounts through which they laundered their ill-gotten gains. The covert spamming and organised identity fraud, the threats and the Jekyll & Hyde behaviours... all these had been firmly cemented in the long-tarnished reputation of this land. All these had come to be collectively known as the Armor Madness, which, like the fires of Sodom and Gamorrah, consumed all in the path of decadence. As to whether it was the place itself, or the allure of the place, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us*, or the people that were drawn to it, nobody knew but since the supposed suicide of Starscreamer and the razzle-dazzle antics of KoG, there was no doubt that the residents of this alley were touched, touched by an insanity that made mere mortals clamour to them just as much as, in their hearts, they knew to stay away.
"So basically you're going to wreck Aristocrat Alley now?"
"Yes. Except there is not a single Lot, nor his wife and daughters, among us."
Cenere swore that it was the grin of the devil that Strop wore under his mask.
* Please, somebody tell me they know this quote!
Gametesta:
"Ah. That was a nice nap. And hey! Everything is still here! This is just great", i thought. I slid my right sword through the loop of my Iron Prince crown And slipped it on my head. That way i would be treated with respect! Although some how I knew I would have no such luck. I walked outside into the hot summer air. "Maybe I should go back into my air conditioned suite...."I thought. Then I noticed how hungry I was. I needed to find a restaurant.
I walked through the gates of Aristocrat way when suddenly I was hit in the back with what felt like a ball.(Obviously the crown wasn't working) I quickly turned around. I had no time for this non-sense. I needed ki- I mean eat, and then go to the library to find information on this "NonameC68". "Who is there?" I said with a firm voice. "Well it's me and Cenere." a dark, muffled voice said. Suddenly the bushes started moving, and out them came two figures. One was a horse like figure in ninja clothing. I had come to know him as the moderator Strop. The other was a young man in a suit with glasses and fairly long hair. "Why are you here?" i asked. "This the first trial of WoM. Agility." Strop said in a proud voice. And on that note he reached for the burlap sack Cenere was carrying and pulled out a ball. He threw it at me quickly. I hit the ball with my sword. It popped easily, but once again he had another ball and once again he threw it. This time i sidestepped it, but as i did this he grabbed another ball and threw it. This time it hit me directly in the stomach. I went flying into a fruit stand. "You want to play games with me? Then lets play games." I said in an annoyed voice. Strop threw another ball. He was laughing so hard his accuracy dropped a 100th of a fraction and barely missed me.
I flew up into the air to avoid any more bruises from dodge balls. I landed up on a rooftop and tried to relax. That didn't last very long. Strop was climbing the building at an incredible speed. Crap. He chased me with the burlap sack on his back. He launched about three at me 1 hit me. The other two popped. I was screwed."Come on Gametesta! Show me your agility!!!" Strop yelled. I thought he was mad and again launched two balls at me as i flew in the air. He threw balls in 3's and 4's.. I dodged them all. I was getting tired. I needed to stop this. I stopped my wings and zoomed straight for the burlap sack as a fell. I cut it open with my swords and all the balls came rolling out. Strop quickly picked them up and as he came up the tip of my sword was an inch from his face. "Good job" Strop said"Now why don't you help pick up these balls." Then he glanced at my swords. Then he said. "On second thought...."
By the look of Strop's face I could tell he wasn't liking being held hostage by two swords.
"Woah there Edward, let's just talk for a minute?"
I narrowed my eyes. "How convenient, that's exactly what I was hoping to do. Now why are you throwing balls at me?"
Strop gave me a look as if i was stupid. "Are you not interested in the Way of Moderation?"
"Not as interested as I am in some of the moderators. Who is NoName and where is he?" I twitched my swordhands menacingly to shake him up a bit.
"Nemo? What do you want with him anyway? I can't allow foul play you know." Despite the situation, Strop was still a moderator himself and i couldn't help but to recognize the responsibility he had to stop trouble even in a life or death situation.
However i was growing tired of not getting answers. "What if the foul play were done by a moderator?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Strop replied almost automatically. "If you have a formal complaint, please lodge a claim at the Armor Court of Great Justice."
I stifled a groan and gritted my teeth. "Never mind, then. Just tell me what you know about the Wilderness."
Strop scratched his head. "What about it, it's the area outside Armor City... always undergoing development, having new sections added to it.... it's said there's major ch- what's it to you anyway?"
Well at least i was getting somewhere now. Maybe i had instilled fear in him. "Who's responsible for what goes on out there?"
"McNeely, of course, along with John, Krin, JoeyBetz, Tony, ConArtists... say, these are very strange questions you're asking, Game...testa."
Hmm.... Perhaps i was wrong. Maybe this McNeely character is the one I'm looking for. Maybe I have a lead.
The next moments happened all too quickly. Out of nowhere, Strop's banhammer had appeared and was swinging right towards my chest. So much for holding his neck hostage. Then there was a blinding flash of blue light, and both Strop and I catapulted backwards. For once, that damned curse worked for me. Thank god i remembered i had it. Strop, taken by surprise for once, fell on his butt and sprung back upright, this time pointing an armed bow at me. Did he not just learn his lesson? I now know i have it. I can use it as a please. The time it takes for him to knock an arrow my shield can recharge...... maybe.
"Care to explain that contraband hardware you have there?"
Oh crap. This is not good. Sure i may be able to deflect every shot he has, but if i get into legal trouble, it's bye-bye aristocrat way. "It's not mine! I mean, it is, but I didn't want it. I mean, it's a curse."
Strop didn't move. "I've heard that one before."
"I'm serious!" I pleaded. Strop need to understand I'm not a bad guy! "NoName has enslaved me to be a Game Tester, and I want freedom!"
"That's pretty hard to believe", Strop twitched his ears before adjusting his aim. "What grounds do you have for making such a claim?"
"I... uh, I... um, his name... is no name... anyway, I've risked too much even saying this!"
Strop lowed the bow and dispelled it. "Fine. I'll look into it. Meanwhile, I recommend you just carry on in the tournament as usual, okay?"
I could tell Strop had just ended the conversation. I saw no other option but to leave and go to the library. "Fine. I'll see you next round then." And with a mighty flap of my wings, I took off. I looked back and i thought i heard Strop say:
"Oi, Cen, you done with those balls yet? The bag needs stitching!"
Manta
It was hot outside. The heat beat down on my back like so many sun baked rivets. But I was bored; I had nothing else to do, as I had just woken up the fourth time that day and trained rigorously all week long. I sat over the edge of my mansiopool and dangled my legs, kicking the edge of the water. "When will round three start?" I thought to myself.
With that I heard a "click," followed by a "bzzzzzz..." Turning over my shoulder, I saw... who else? Nurse Stroppy McCrossdressingninjahorse. And he was holding... "Is that a vibrator?!"
"Oh, God, thatâs a ban" emanated from Armor Castle, barely noticeable.
Strop waggled his finger. "Tut, tut. Youâre in enough trouble as it is, Trout Face.." Upon closer inspection, he was holding an electric razor. He reached into his one piece ninja outfit (I could help but notice bright pink frills whilst he did so) and pulled out a second one. "Did you think Iâd forgotten about your little ban a few weeks back?" He turned the other one on. "Click, bzzzzzz..."
Strop always HAD been jealous I could have both an awesome dorsal fin and luscious locks of hair. (Lies! -strop)
"Câmere you little carp!"
"Hey! Iâm almost as tall as you!"
Like a ninja horse, Strop thrust his arm forward, razor in hand. Instinctively, like a kickboxing fish, I swiped at the razor, sending it flying as a result. It flew over and clipped the tip off of Cenâs (whom I had just noticed was standing there) ponytail. He frowned a Cen-ly frown.
Strop flexed his fingersâ"unusual for one with hooves. "Fighting back will only get you b&, Manta. Submit to the power!"
I froze. Seriously, ice and everything. Mustâve been a mod-power. "Câmere!" Strop lunged. Flexing every muscle I had, I shattered the ice and sent it hurling in every direction somehow. The crystalloid shards smashed the fronts of several mansions and took out a series of pillars on the front steps of another. The other aristocrats of Aristocrat Way stood in shocked horror, and I froze, In the metaphorical sense, this time. "Um... I didnât mean to?"
Strop chuckled. "Fine. I might as well introduce youâ¦" I then noticed Cenere had a large burlap sack. He tossed it to Stroppykins and Strop pulled out a large rubber compulse ball. "...To your next challenge first." He chucked the ball at me, quite hard I might add. As it neared me, I flipped backwards onto my hands and kicked it straight up into the air.
It landed with a "ing!" and left a crack in the sidewalk. Then it bounced up and crashed through the roof of one of the houses. It ricocheted around the inside with repeating "Pings!" and eventually started bouncing around the inside of the house so fast that the pings became a resounding "Squeeeeee!"
And then I watched the abandoned old mansion come crashing to the ground, completely leveled. All that remained was debris and dust. The ball rolled out of the devastated pile of house parts and stopped by Stropâs feet.
"Well, well, well. I see youâre putting up a fight. This will be fun!" Strop reared his arm back, ball in hand. I closed my eyes and braced myself, but while I wasnât looking, I heard that familiar buzz and felt my hair come falling off in piles. I reached up in horror and felt the stubble where my hair used to be.
Then I stopped. Strop grinned. I ran. Strop threw. I ran faster. The ball kept up with me. "Run, fish-boy, run!"
So I ducked, and watched in amusement as the compulse ball took out a stone wall surrounding the boundaries of Aristocrat Way. It collapsed and fell over onto an elderly man (he was alright, he just seemed... geriatric).
Strop pulled out three more balls and gave chase, throwing them as we went. The first one, I sidestepped to the left and watched as it took out three windows in quick succession. The third one was low; I jumped over it and grabbed it between my feet, tossed It in the air, and head butted it straight up. Once again, it destroyed another old mansion. I turned around and caught the third one, and it sent me sliding back a few feet. I traded stares with Strop and the dodge ball, and after a short lapse of awareness, served the ball overhand at Strop.
Of course, being a ninja, he easily volleyed it back to me. It seemed we were playing volleyball now. I dove, narrowly knocking the ball back at him. He slapped it back at me and I punched it with all of my strength. Strop had to dodge this one. He flipped out of the way and the ball demolished the foundation of the house behind him, sinking it underground.
He pulled out one more ball and tossed It into the air. He back flipped and kicked the ball at me, so I ran as fast as a land-fish couldâ"faster than it sounds. Unfortunately, the ball was faster, and I was forced to somersault forward, and as my balance shifted back to my feet and I was righting myself, I kicked the ball with the back of my heels. The already great force of the ball, combined with the force of my own kick, created devastating results. It was speeding right for Firetailâs super-ultra-mega-luxurious-villa.
The ball hit Armor Landâs second most expensive piece of land with a tremendous "bwoooooom!"
Through yet another circumstance I wouldnât ever understand, the ball created an awesome mushroom cloud as it hit the house, utterly annihilating it and the six houses on either side of it.
Firetail wasnât home, and I knew he could afford another. The others... meh. They had insurance.
I was blinded by the black smoke. Strop picked me up by the scruff of the neck and horse punted me through the air. He then donned a targeting visor and held another ball. "Steady... steady..."
He chucked it straight after me and did that triple-clap "Iâm done here" thing and turned to Cenere. "Come on, Cenny Cen Cen! We have to find more victestants!" He heaved the sack over his shoulder and trotted off.
I sailed for a good minute or so before finally landing in the Haunted District of the Residential Area, destroying a straw shack. I looked up and saw a spinning, multicolored streak hurtling right at my face.
Unable to do anything else, I rolled to the side and jumped to my feet. The streak landed with an enormous "PING!" The result was an incredible shockwave that took out every haunted house in the Haunted District, along with several trees, stones, and a certain fish-boy.
I stumbled before finally falling to the ground and waited for the tremor to subside. When it finally did, I stood up, blinded by the dust and debris. All I could see for miles were piles of shattered glass, splintered wood, twisted metal and crushed brick. But who really cared? This was the district where only the ghost accounts lived.
My eyes were wide and I was shocked. With no alternatives, I collapsed onto my back and closed my eyes. Hard to say if I was unconscious or just sleeping, but either way, I couldnât be bothered with waking up.
"Well, maybe we can take five minutes off."
Cen couldn't quite believe his ears. He turned to Strop. "What?"
"I said, we'll be taking a break now!"
Just then, in the distance, the cathedral bell sounded once, twice, three times. It was now the hottest part of the day, and even while sitting in the shade of the bushes, the heat seeped between the branches, emanating from the ground, encasing them in an oppresive caldor.
Also, though Strop wasn't about to admit it, that Manta guy was good. Better than most, even. Good enough to puff him out, because if he hadn't gotten serious, he might have taken a supersonic ball to the muzzle and that probably would have looked bad. Oh, and really hurt. Among other things, Strop's nose was sensitive.
"Sandwich?"
Cen, having been denied breaks for several weeks now, had the presence of mind to bring his own lunch. Strop glanced over. That was awfully nice of Cen, but...
"Does that bread have butter derived from animal fats? I can't eat that kind of stuff, you know."
Cen frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Strop shook his head, "Well nevermind then. It is said that the Dragon Warrior can survive three months on a single ginkgo leaf and the energy of the universe alone!"
"Uh, right." Cen just stared at Strop. "But you're not a-"
"Okay, let's go!" Without another word, Strop leapt up and started hurtling through the trees again. Several seconds passed before Cenere realised that if he didn't start moving, he would lose sight of Strop altogether, and then Strop would probably find some new horrible way to wake him up in the morning.
Eating sandwiches while running through trees wearing a designer suit. This was going to be fun.
Pixel
The sun as beating down on yet another hot day in the world of Armor Games. Even the lake too Pixels left seemed hazy with the evaporation of its water. "This is a Bittersweet Symphony this life; try'in to make ends meet your a slave to money then you die#... murmered Pixel, despite this area of the Amusement Park being all but deserted he still kept his voice down. The hard, knarly bark of the oak tree he had perched on was almost perfectly complimentary too his arching spine. He had been laying there for hours whiling away the day sifting through songs and pondering the world. In the distance the hubbub of Armor City could jsut about be heard like a moth flitting through the air.
"Yeaucchh... it is getting very hot now" moaned Pixel. It was almost noon now and the hot sun beated down everywhere. Even the shadows in the branches of the tree were getting hot. Pixel heved up his small frame, supporting himself on the above branches and fluttering his wings gently. After a morning of sitting in the same position his whole body resisted the movement which felt like a comparitive marathon to the sedate few hours it had now been accustomed too. He jumped out of the tree floating the 20 or so metres to the ground. In a storm many years ago the tree had caught alight. Though the fire washed out relatively quickly it left a large hollow in the old tree (though enough wood survived for it too live on and thrive). Within was a dark shade and the cool are was refreshing on Pixels cheeks. He took a drink from a bottle he'd been sipping since he left the castle; though warm the sweet taste still helped. Just as Pixel nestled down in the coolest corner a shadow flashed past the entrance.
"Hellooo..." said Pixie trailing off to a yelp as a small ball twatted him on his arm. "Hey, what?... Who?... Wait; Cenere?!?!?"
"No, do you really think I would do this kinda thing?" Cenere nodded his head to the left. Pixel shifted his gaze to see the crouching figure of Strop. Pixels mind flashed back to the stories he had heard about other members being "attacked" by these two and rememberd laughing at the rumours. "Toss me another ball" ordered Strop and Cenere obediantly reached itoo a bulging sack and tossed one to Strop.. With barely any pullback to give Pixel a chance to dodge Strop launched the ball at lightning speed. It slapped Pixel on the calf knocking his leg back but before he could recover he heard the shout of Strop "Quickly Cen, quickly pass me another...".
"Hey look a new guy is drowning in the lake!!!" shouted Pixel. In the split second the conscientious duo wurled round Pixel ran for the opening to the hollow. He had seen Strops escapades on the roofs of Armor City and decided it would be best not too make a run across open ground; instead he decided to hover up into the trees branches. Almost gaining a strangle hold on Pixels ankles Stop leaped from the hollow after realising there was no emergency from the lake. "You can run but you can'... oh wait you can fly" said Strop. As Pixie swished in and out of the branches of the tree Strop started jumping up the limbs with an an odd elegance. Cenere meraly say himself on the bottom most branch ready to throw up some more balls if Strop threw all the ones he had grabbed from cener on the way out of the hollow.
With the branches thinning Pixel knew he just had to reach the sky and he would be safe (for now at least) in the thin wisps of cloud now encircling the atmosphere. Strop and Pixel made their respective last gasp lunges simultaneously. Pixel got away with, just, and was able to turn and watch Strop clinging on to a thin branch with an old trainer clinched in his left hand. Pixel looked down to see his de-shoed foot wriggling its toes back at him and shot high up into the sky. Cenere was now stood on the ground beside the great tree shaking his head in his hands at the site of Strop danglin by a mere grasp of a twig.
After 30 minutes of relaxing on a cloud he looked down at the ground to see if the coast was clear and slowly drifted back to his home bruised but hopeful this was the start of the Way of Moderation.
"Okay," panted Strop, "I think that's enough hiding in the bushes for now."
"Good."
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