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Thee Tale of Smogonne -- It's back!

Discussion in 'Congregation of the Masses' started by Alchemator, Dec 31, 2011.

  1. Alchemator

    Alchemator my god if you don't have an iced tea for me when i
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Smogon Media Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Feb 7, 2009
    Messages:
    3,803
    Oops I murdered the OP, so comments might not have much relevance any more. Oh well. I've also combined a few chapters to make the lengths more even.

    Anyway, this is my 3k!

    TToS I: Arte Evanis

    Chapter 1: Putting the 'Pro' in 'Prologue' (open)
    "What the funck?"

    The man sat up in his seat, and fumbled to switch off the Skyrim music in which he been indulging. The other passengers were perhaps more alarmed than the man himself -- they were becoming accustomed to the regular shouts of "FUS RO DAH!", but this train-wreck of syllables was just a little too much to handle. No coincidental pun intended. The man snatched a quick glance out of the window, and was greeted with the sight of rolling fields and particularly hairy sheep. It seemed that Glasgow was a fair way away yet; he was currently in Edinburgh city centre. He slammed his laptop shut -- cutting off its dragonborn warcry, to the relief of the other travellers -- and hissed down the phone.

    "Calling me cute is not going to get me there any quicker, Nastyjungle! Az out."

    It had been a pretty easy day at the office, so to speak. The 'breaking news' had only stretched so far as a threat by some hacking group, the name of which he seemed to have forgotten. As far as Minecraft went, Smogcraft was still down, and looked like it would be for some time. Everything else? Well, some no-name had posted a thread marking the three-thousandth time he'd written some rubbish, but that's hardly news, is it? This latest crisis blew today's misfortunes out of the water, however. Unfortunately for you, reader, the nature of this dilemma will be tantalisingly withheld; unlike a real train passenger, you aren't permitted to listen into the conversation.

    Now to default to the tone of a shitty romantic novel. Az was not an unattractive fellow; the time he'd spend in Scotland had entitled him to a certain doseage of Scottish charm, and indeed -- more specifically -- a fair bit of Glaswegian charm. Unfortunately Glaswegian charm often involves knives and knuckledusters, but at least the name sounds somewhat romantic. As for his physical appearance, Az boasted an incredibly cute manly characteristic -- a very chiselled jaw. So chiselled, in fact, that it could be used in a wide range of tasks, varying between chopping herbs and ploughing snow.

    Az knew that he would have to use this boyish charm to his advantage. It had gotten him this far in life, and he knew it could do so much more.

    ***

    Another man -- far, far away -- chewed on the glowing stub of his cigarette and spat. Of course, it wasn't a real cigarette, but a villain has to make the effort, right? As he attempted to make interesting shapes with the smoke, and naturally failing, a hooded figure waddled over. The shadowy entity was not particularly overweight, however -- his gait was simply due to the large painting he was carrying. He rested the canvas on the opposite wall and wheezed, before chuckling slightly.

    "They fell for it! Hook, line and sinker. Who knew a piece of crap like Pollock could get people so mad?"

    Hookline Ansinker dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with his foot.

    "Well done, Evan. The plan has been set in motion. Hopefully things will go to plan, though obviously there is no guarantee. Good day."
    "But what about my share?"
    "You'll get your share in time, my good man. All in good time."

    He disappeared. Ok, maybe you think that's a metaphor for him sneaking away quickly or something, but it isn't. He actually disappeared. You got that? Good.

    Evan looked around nervously as the sun hung low in the sky. Suggestion Box alleyway wasn't a good place to hang around in at night: various rodents and insects came out to feast on the poor noobs, who had been made prey for their strange musings during the day. Rumour had it, too, that the predator itself still stalked the place at night. The Great Sage certainly wasn't one Evan wanted to trifle with anyway. He skedaddled.​


    ***

    Nastyjungle put the phone down and grinned -- she was going to make sure that Az got the Cutest User award this year, and she even let out an effeminate giggle at the thought. Nastyjungle being nasty? Of course not, just being a mischievous Clefable. Strolling into the next room, she found a slightly less agreeable person, and a definite scent of tea.

    "Forsooth, this is an absolute disaster! Indeed, I grow calamitously apoplectic at such an envisioning!"
    "What the funck, Alch?"
    "Forsooth, such trivialisation of aforementioned noble establishment obfuscates oneself entirely. Where the hell is my tea?"

    Nastyjungle sighed. Why had she gotten herself into this? It was much easier with the other guy around, but he'd buggered off to China. Now only she was left to fend off this Brit day-in-day-out, and it was no easy task. The tea cupboard had to be fully-stocked all hours of the day, and by 10:00 A.M. in the morning all mugs had to be fully cleaned and ready for use, with their respective humorous messages facing outwards. If this was not the case, then Nastyjungle would have to endure the wrath of Queen, Country and probably Queen again, depending on the number of errors. It definitely wasn't easy to live in the Smeargle Studio, but the bolded name on the door was nice. Still, there's no place like home...

    "Az is coming over later."
    "Forsooth. Forsooth, can he solve this?"
    "Hell if I know, I just wanted to show him my big, gay comic."
    "Forsooth, I guess you could say he's..."

    Nastyjungle sighed again as Alch fumbled in his pocket for some sunglasses, eventually managing to put them on.

    "locke'd into doing so!"
    "That was terr-"
    "YEAAAAHHHHHH! Forsooth, I do not insinuate thus. 'Twas brillig!"

    ***

    Meanwhile, in the land of the sane... Correction: Meanwhile, in the land of the less insane...

    "Sir, may I see your ticket please?"
    "What? Sorry, yeah, sure."

    *clickity click*

    "And yours, sir?"
    "Sorry, who are you talking to?"
    "You, sir."
    "But I just gave you my ticket?"
    "I am addressing your jaw, sir. Have you obtained a permit for it to travel on this train, sir?"
    "Train ticket man
    are you
    serious?
    v_v"
    "I'm sorry, sir, but rules are rules. May I inquire as to the meaning of 'vee underscore vee'?"
    "Oh, nothing."
    "I'm afraid, sir, that if you do not have a valid ticket for your jaw then you will have to get off the train."
    "You're joking right?"
    "Unfortunately, sir, I am not. The next stop is Aberdeen."
    "Does this train line have any idea about the geography of Scotland?"
    "No, sir. I suspect that nor does the narrator."

    After an arduous hike, Az eventually came to a large apartment block in the Empire estate, entitled "Socialization". Heck if I know why it was called that. Heck if I know why the spelling was americanised too, when it was in Glasgow. Some things in this world don't make sense.

    This includes how there are lifts [elevators, for you Americans] in most places these days, but most of these lifts don't work. You might, as Az did, think "Oh I'm tired, I'll use the lift." but -- true to form -- the lift will be out of order when you need it most.

    So, after an arduous hike up the stairs, Az rapped on the door. A young woman with short hair opened the door and smiled at her guest.

    "Az!"
    "I am not cute."

    Az stalked into the Studio and dropped into a conveniently-placed armchair by the fire. It was going to be a long week.​

    Chapter 2: Your very own Smogonne legend is about to unfold! (open)
    "Forsooth, dear Jastynungle, is there an adequate explanation as to the seating decision of this fellow?"
    "Alch can you just, like, speak normally for once?"
    "Forsooth, I dictate unto the ubiquitous wholly in perfect tongue!"
    "What the funck?"

    Alright, I guess that kind of opening is a bit confusing. It turned out that Az had made a slight mistake in choosing his seat -- that is, he was now occupying Alchemator's chair. No-one was allowed to occupy Alchemator's chair. Not even Alchemator; that's British logic for you! Nastyjungle sighed (this was becoming a more common occurrence every day). She tapped her foot on the floor impatiently as Az and Alch got into yet another debate; that must be a British thing too. While it was quite difficult to follow, she caught words like "paternalism" and "semantics", and decided to fuck this shit.

    "Everybody shut up so I can say my piece!"
    "Forsooth, as self-appointed chair of this debate, I hereby attempt to procure silence among those concerned. Speaking of chairs..."
    "Shut up, Alch!"
    "Forsooth, I cannot take fault with that which you have thus spoken in terms of formatting. Pray, continue."
    "Alch can you
    like
    transl8?"

    Feeling exasperated, Nastyjungle decided to shout above them -- it would be the only way to make any progress. This semi-introduction was dragging on enough already anyway.

    "I assume you know why we're all here?"
    "Forsooth."
    "Yeah."
    "No."
    "Who was that?"
    "Forsooth, I know not."

    The voice seemed to have come from the corner of the room, and was spoken in a clear Essex accent. The man, realising he might finally be someone important in the grand scheme of things, jumped up and ran over.

    "Hey it's me, MK Ultra!"

    A pause.

    "You know, me. MK Ultra?"
    "Are you an artist or something?"
    "Err, no."
    "A spriter?"
    "Nope."

    Nastyjungle gave a harsh, sideways glance at Alch.

    "A writer?"
    "Nope again."
    "So, why are you here?"
    "Actually, I don't know. I sit in the corner and insult people, I guess."

    Great, thought Nastyjungle, another nutcase. Oh well, they were going to need all the help they could get.

    "Then I will explain what the hell is going on in this situation. Let's just say that I couldn't manage 'generally'.

    A little while ago Az was going to call by to talk to me. I'd prepared everything: the candles were lit, the wine was breathing in the kitchen -- no don't worry Az it wasn't supposed to be, uh, romantic or anything, it was just... Anyway, I switched on the Last Post news and I saw this thread. Gotta say, I had to do a double take, and even then I had to get one of my munchkins to check it properly for me. I was right the first time though, it looked like someone had nominated some makiri guy to get an artist badge!"

    A gasp ensued from the listening audience, though two-thirds of said crowd already knew everything that was going on.

    "He designed some shirt for VGC winners apparently, and Evan wants him to get an artist badge!!! How does that make sense? v_v"
    "Forsooth, it appears most dire."
    "What the funck?"
    "Who cares?"

    Another gasp. It appeared that this MK Ultra guy, whoever he was, was the one who had spoken out of turn.

    "Forsooth, iiMKUltra, do you fully cognify precisely that which such a travesty implicates?"
    "It's just a few pixels, right? No big deal. Stop being such a bender about it."
    "What does bender mean?"
    "I'll explain later, NJ."
    "Later, az...?"
    "Forsooth, focus purely on the subject matter which currently bears force on our beings, Jastynungle! Such a nomination but serves to weaken the reward for which artists should strive!"
    "Transl8?"
    "He means the artist badge gets a bit pointless."

    Silence ensued. You know, the kind of unexplainable silence that happens sometimes. Alch looked to MK; MK looked to NJ; NJ looked at Az for a second then blushed, so she decided to look at Alch instead. Az felt a bit lonely, so he looked at his beautifully-chiselled jaw. It was Nastyjungle who spoke next, trying to pass off her flush as a sign of frustration.

    "But what can we do? aragornbird isn't around any more and Evan isn't listening to reason -- he just posted some crappy Pollock painting!"
    "Forsooth, is such a happening conceivable?"
    "Yeah!!!"
    "Forsooth, despicable."
    "I have an idea."

    It was the first time MK had spoken up in a little while. I suppose no-one had planned to listen to him, but there wasn't really much choice any more.

    "We need to find a new leader. A visionary leader."
    "Funck, that's a great idea!"
    "Forsooth, a visionary leader can give Smogon direction, and get shit done!"
    "But who?"

    Another awkward silence. It has to be said, the Smeargle's Studio crowd is generally quite intelligent, but finds it a bit difficult to progress between various plot points.

    "We can go get that Nintendo64 guy."
    "Forsooth, Articuno64?"
    "Yeah, him! v_v"

    Az looked up, and struck a more heroic pose than normal. Thankfully his jaw was always in a heroic pose -- anything that chiselled has to be, by default.

    "Then let's go; we have no time to waste!"

    ***

    There are some things in life you just have to do. Nastyjungle understood that. Alchemator didn't.

    "Forsooth, dear Jastynungle, perchance might I inquire as to your task?"
    "I'm leaving a note for Ritter and the gang."
    "Forsooth, but why?"
    "Well someone has to feed Bruteroot while we're off finding this television leader--"
    "Forsooth, visionary leader."
    "--whatever. Someone has to ban the spambots and stuff too. It turns out, Alch, that's there more to being a moderator than sitting around getting pissed on tea! Also make sure you tell v0x to fuck everything for me."

    Alch contemplated this proposal as she stormed away. It was a bit of a generalisation to say that he was drinking tea all the time, and -- after all -- he was British. It's practically a requirement. Having Ritter house-sit was a pretty good idea too, as long as he didn't move in with his army of cats. Bruteroot wouldn't be pleased about that. Forsooth, they could just leave that MK fellow to plump up the cushions occasionally, thought Alch. It would certainly give him something to do. Then again, they did need someone down-to-earth on this quest of discovery, since certain people were quite prone to getting lost in thought. Alch finished off his tea, put his mug down and went to find Az.

    ***

    Hookline Ansinker dropped into his chair. Of course, that wasn't his real name, but it was far too dangerous to let anyone know his true identity. There were certain... connotations associated with his name. If he was linked to this scam then the entire thing would be dismissed as an elaborate troll. In all honesty it was just an elaborate troll; it was the dismissal that he couldn't bear to think about.

    Ansinker didn't want to be dismissed again. Bah! How dare they just cast him aside like that. He'd been around for years! He'd contributed day-in-day-out to make Smogon a better place. Well, quite a few days anyway. And now that some new games came out he was shunned. He'd show them. They'll pay dearly for this, thought Ansinker, or my name's not--

    ***

    It was approaching evening, and the Smeargle Studio was -- somehow -- approaching silence. Nastyjungle flitted around the room, lighting candles and plumping up the cushions. She'd seen MK try to do that earlier, but he'd failed miserably. He knew it too, and went to drown his sorrows in some loud music. NJ almost felt sorry for the guy, but of course NJ never felt sorry for anyone. Not even that witch she accidentally dropped a house on.

    There were footsteps in the next room -- the kind of heavy tread that only a Brit studying Politics in Glasgow could have. She panicked. She wasn't ready yet! Launching onto the nearest sofa, NJ tried to make her hair fall seductively around her bosom. Fuck short hair.

    "Uh, Az is that you?"

    Az's jaw entered the room, with Az quickly following behind. He frowned at Nastyjungle. Az I mean, not his jaw.

    "Did you need me for something?"
    "I just wanted to say--"
    "Forsooth, I have finally ascertained your area of location within this household, Az. Please be seated; I am enthused to regard that Jastynungle has aforetaken this liberty."

    NJ sighed. Again.

    "Forsooth, in order to discover the household of the visionary leader, the services of whom we require, we must proceed through the egress immediately."

    MK, with excellent timing, noted the blank faces of Az and NJ. He translated.

    "Let's go."

    ***

    "Forsooth, there is but one automobile with the usage of which the task can be accomplished. Unfortunately I cannot direct the path of this motorcar."
    "Why do you have to funcking speak like that? v_v"
    "You men are stupid -- I'll drive."

    Ok, let me be the first to say that the Smearglemobile -- as aptly named by Alch -- was not exactly the greatest pickup truck known to man. On a good day, the steering wheel stayed on for a little while; on a bad day, the brakes didn't work. For a good few months the residents of the Smeargle Studio hadn't risked trying to tell what kind of day it was.

    It had a Smeargle painted across the side of it. As Alch would put it, it certainly was a sketchy thing to drive. Nastyjungle buckled herself in.​

    Chapter 3: Fine and Rodandy (open)
    "Guys this is a problem."
    "Forsooth, what might there exist which could indeed personify a malhappening? The circle of direction remains intact; it must be a good day."
    "I mean, well. I can drive, right? But only in Kansas. There are too many rules here. So many rules!"
    "hahahahaha what the funck NJ?"

    Nastyjungle blushed at this -- half angrily, half embarrassedly. It was difficult enough to keep driving and make conversation at the same time, though there were probably rules against that too. What they need, thought NJ, is rules for people on foot, who seemed to be wandering around in the middle of the road. There were some weird lampposts with red lights in them too, but she didn't know what the funck they were for.

    "In Kansas we only have one rule for driving, why can't you guys be the same?"
    "Forsooth, dear Jastynungle, may I discover the answer to this interrogation pertaining to this singular law?"
    "What?"
    "He means 'what's that?'"
    "Who are you again?"
    "What? It's me, MK! MK Ultra?"
    "Right... Anyway, it's quite simple: follow the yellow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road. Simple! Not like this. Why are people walking across some stripes on the road anyway, don't they know there are cars here?"

    Alch sank down into his seat and took a generous swig of his tea. He had thought that the Smearglemobile was dangerous enough by itself, but in the hands of NJ... Well, it was like it had gotten some insanely broken third ability. Looking further ahead along the road, Alch noticed something terrible. Something horribly calamitous was about to unfold.

    "Forsooth, I am obliged to declare that there appears to have been an incident avec the offspring of a species within the canis genus!"
    "He's talking about the puppys that have escaped, and are running out in the middle of the road."
    "Forsooth!!!"
    "What the funck? NJ, stop!"
    "What? Why? It's their fault for having their warm, snuffly asses in the middle of the road."

    Sinking even lower into his seat, Alch closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable thud of battered, pick-up truck steel against small, doggy flesh.

    "I can't let you do this NJ, they're too cute!"
    "What? Are we having this kid or not Az?"
    "How does that apply to this conversation?"

    Not daring to open his eyes, Alch heard Az stamping on the brakes from the passenger side, but to no avail. The Smearglemobile kept speeding along. It was definitely a bad day. MK whimpered slightly, perhaps in anticipation of the puppy carnage.

    "Alright, NJ, it's time for plan B!"

    Az dived across from the passenger side of the vehicle onto Nastyjungle's lap, and for once she was glad her hair was short, and wasn't getting in the way. Don't worry though, young readers, this isn't a romantic interlude. In one swift movement Az wrenched off the steering wheel and artfully flicked it away with his wrist. Alch, who -- being a teenager -- valued the sight of romantic clinches over settling his own fears, went rigid with fright.

    The steering wheel arced gracefully through the air, and the puppies -- who had been busying themselves with climbing over each other (why do puppies do that anyway? It's not king of the hill or something.) looked up. Their doggy instincts took over, and they immediately gave chase, running out of the road. Az sighed with relief and lay back in his seat. The puppies had been saved.

    They hadn't, though.

    "Forsooth, Az, what a noble deed that you have verily enacted this day. To my dismay, however, we are imminently approaching a tree."
    "'Nice, but watch--"

    Poor MK, helpful as he was trying to be, was cut off mid-translation by a low branch. Az and NJ began to dream of marshmallows, but lifted their heads out of the airbags before deciding to take a bite.

    "What the funck, this thing actually has working airbags? v_v"
    "It's modelled after Alch -- unstoppable, but ultimately full of hot air. Where is he anyway?"
    "I think he's in that bush over there. You see the arm with a cup of tea on the end of it? That's him, I think."

    Not a drop had been spilled.

    "So where's MK?"
    "Who?"

    ***

    Policemen get to a point, naturally, at which they think they've seen everything. I guess that's a bit of a clichéd phrase, but they seriously think that yellow rats making entire buildings explode is the wackiest sight they'll ever see. Perhaps setting the new standard, however, was the scene that lay before this current officer of the law. One man was quite casually leaning on a piece of burning wreckage, nonchalantly sipping some tea, while two people were attempting to salvage as many springs from the seats as possible. Half of this pair paused in his work to question the other.

    "Hey NJ, what the funck are we doing?"
    "Bombiron wants to make Spoink models."
    "Oh."

    Attempting to mirror the indifference of the tea-drinker, the policeman ambled over and got out his notebook. Getting out the notebook was standard procedure: you could use it to take down notes, throw it to stun advancing thugs, and many other things. This particular officer had used it to scribble down various equations, and long words like 'Magnetohydrodynamics'. I'm guessing that's about Marvel villains having a drink.

    "Sir, is this your vehicle?"
    "Err, no. Not exactly, no. I guess you could say it's a company car? I suppose I do own it partly, though."
    "Well, I was going to pull you over earlier, but fortunately you did that without my intervention."

    The policeman gave a wry smile. All MK wanted was a rye smile.

    "It appears that, in the course of your itinery, you have broken a number of rules currently enacted in the CAP district."
    "Ah. Um. What would these be, officer?"
    "Breaking the speed limit, exceeding the number of persons permitted in a vehicle, and most of all attempting to save puppies from obvious slaughter. Did you not consider, sir, that those vermin were in the middle of the road for a reason? Now I'm going to have to get rid of them some other way."

    He turned away for a second and mumbled to himself. Az automatically tried to listen in, but didn't catch everything -- only fleeting words like "sack", "river" and "bricks".

    "How was the vehicle too full? There are only four of us."
    "Five."
    "I only count four."
    "I count five."

    The policeman gave another wry smile -- they were his speciality, after all.

    "I refer to the gentleman situated beneath your nose, sir."
    "Policeman man
    are you
    serious?
    v_v"
    "I'd like you to come down to the station to answer some more questions, please."

    ***

    Ok yeah, Az is definitely a funny guy. Unfortunately that doesn't get you very far during an interrogation -- that is, unless you define "very far" as "down the corridor to a jail cell".

    The cell door creaked open ominously -- as all such doors are required to do (it's in their contract) -- and a man inside leaped to his feet at the sound.

    "Dusk! Dusk! You're here to let me out, right? Come on, locking me up for something like 'plantlady'?"
    "You're relentless, Rodan, and for that you're staying here for now."
    "But whyyy? I'll be good, you know. I'll get a new name: a fresh start! Wait, I know you. You're Az!"
    "What the funck, I thought I would never see you again."
    "It's your lucky--"
    "--forsooth, unlucky."
    "--day! You can get me out of here, right?"

    The man, apparently called Rodan, was a strange sight to see in a jail cell. He seemed to be quite a... 'rotund' fellow, of a cheerful disposition. You could describe him pretty aptly as "happy go-lucky" -- that is, he's happy that your luck has gone. Currently he was rubbing his hands in glee, in fact, that three moderators had joined him in the cell. Three moderators and a chin, I mean.

    "I know, you can get me out of here, Alch! We go way back, you know. Back in the days when I was called Mordock."
    "Forsooth, prior to the alterations of nomenclature to 'King Igor' and 'Music is my BOYFRIEND'."
    "Yeah, but that's all in the past now. Let's bury the hatchet, eh? What's a hatchet anyway?"
    "Forsooth, an implement of woodcutting."
    "Oh. Hey, Az, get in on this conversation. You use hatchets to chop down trees. Who would have thought it?"
    "Shut the funck up, Rodumb."

    Az was sitting quietly in a corner, stroking his manly stubble in deep contemplation. Admittedly he had to use a pole for this task, but the effect was in no way diminished. Nastyjungle was attempting to rest her head soothingly on his shoulder, but had already received some minor cuts from his cactus jaw.

    "How the funck did this happen? I don't even like CAP that much. Well, I mean, don't get me wrong I don't dislike it. I just never come here. When I finally do I get arrested? What the funck Alch? This is totally your fault. v_v"
    "Forsooth, perchance might I inquire as to the nature of aforemade accusation?"
    "Well if you got that damn car serviced then we wouldn't be here! To be honest, if you hadn't kicked up a shitstorm about the whole makiri thing then we never would have left. I could have been playing Skyrim right now -- right now!"
    "Forsooth, it is the responsibility of all moderators to uphold and verily exorcise malfunctioning amongst the automobile."
    "Jeez I can't even understand what the funck you're saying. Where's that guy who translates?"

    All eyes turned to the corner of the cell. MK was very good at standing in corners and generally being unobstrusive. Then again, he ended up being unobtrusive even when stood out in the open. Still, for some reason he wasn't in that corner. Nor was he in the other corners. Even more surprisingly, Rodan claimed he hadn't eaten him.

    "Did he somehow not get arrested?"
    "Forsooth, manyleaved botany often affords exceptional disguise."
    "Well, he was hiding in a bush, Az."
    "Good point, NJ. What did Alch say?"
    "I don't have a clue."

    A rapping on the grille alerted their attention. It seemed that the cell was underground, since the man on the outside was lying flat on some broken glass. It might have been easier to sympathise with him if he hadn't smashed the bottles himself.

    "Hi guys, it's me!"
    "Hey, Az, it's a helpful citizen!"

    She looked at the floor sheepishly.

    "We can escape and live together forever... Or as long as you want, I guess? I mean, you don't have to commit to anything. You could just be a lodger I guess? You wouldn't have to pay anything though. That doesn't mean..."

    Az gave her a confused look and tilted his head on one side, dislodging a light on the other side of the room with his jaw. He turned back to the man at the grille.

    "I think we've lost one of our, um, compatriots, sir. Could you maybe find him for us? We're in a bit of a bad position here."
    "Oh hey, it's MK!"

    Rodan tucked the rat's tail into his mouth and licked his lips. The others looked quizzically at him.

    "Who?"
    "You know, the guy you're looking for. Hi MK!"
    "Hey Rodan."
    "Oh, that guy? He's MK?"
    "Yeah, it's me!"
    "Right... well, could you get us out?"
    "I'll see what I can do."

    Az slumped back onto the bench, and rested his head on his hands. Ok, NJ supplied her hands too.

    "That's what we've been reduced too -- putting our fate in the hands of a total stranger."

    ***

    The scales of darkness and light had already tipped in the moon's favour by the time MK approached the headquarters. Ok, I'll admit that's an odd way of describing things, but there needs to be a strange metaphor in here occasionally, right? He peered into the foyer. It was completely dark, apart from some moonlight splashing in like a Magikarp from a skylight. Ok then, have two strange metaphors.

    "Ah, I know you."
    "Who are you, bender?"
    "No need to talk like that to me, young man. I'm going to help you."
    "How do you even know what I'm doing?"
    "I've been around long enough to know what everyone's doing, fool. Seven years. Eight thousand posts. I even have a Tutor Alumnus badge!"
    "Err, great."
    "You don't know me? I'm The Great Aeroblacktyl!"
    "Can't say I do, sorry."

    The man sighed. Usually people would roll over more easily than this, or at least they would pretend to do so.

    "I'm MoP."
    "Oh, the tro--"
    "Don't say it. I'm undercover, you see? Helping you, that is."
    "Whatever. How are you going to help me?"
    "You hear this?"

    A small jingling noise came from the man's pocket.

    "You have a Chingling? How's that going to help? It sux."
    "Dammit no, fool! I have the keys."
    "How do you, an apparently miscellaneous and unimportant character, have something so crucial to the plot?"
    "So you can making shocking references to this point in time later in the story. Anyway, let's go."

    The man stalked off into the headquarters, unabashed. MK thought it would be better to check for any staff first, but MoP didn't seem to care -- he'd just take the punishment if it happened. Nevertheless, it appeared that Officer Dusk wasn't back from his trip down to the river yet, and he found MoP already waiting in front of the cells.

    "Alright, which of these miscreants are your friends? Is it this guy?"

    Morm looked up for a moment, before returning to his task of rock-scraping.

    "No, it's the one on the other side."
    "Oh, look. It's the jailers. What do you want us to do now?"
    "No, it's me: MK! Don't you remember me? We only talked a few hours ago."
    "Who's this random man you have with you, stranger?"
    "This is--"
    "I'm undercover, remember?"
    "Oh, right. This is Undercover, and he has the keys!"

    MoP dutifully unlocked the door of the cell, and everyone scrambled out. For the first time in years, Morm was inadvertently hit with the wrath of Az's jaw, but other than that the latter's exit was uneventful.

    "I... I can't get out!"

    Turning back, it seemed that Rodan was stuck in the doorway of the cell. He tried to wiggle out, but his girth was simply too enormous to free himself.

    "But I was so close! I was almost free!"

    Nastyjungle patted his hand reassuringly.

    "Don't worry, Rodan. You'll be out soon. A couple of weeks, I guess."

    Rodan hung his head as the troupe escaped; Alchemator was environmentally-conscious enough to turn the lights off as he left, so Rodan was left in darkness. He waited.

    And waited.

    And kept waiting.​

    Chapter 4: One Scoop or Two? (open)
    Looming disconcertingly above visitors was, as you might say, a speciality. In fact -- since it had been given enough time, and only time -- the structure seemed to have perfected it. The shattered roof tiles on the ground appeared more as battlescars than remnants of a past storm; the door hanging on by only one hinge was symbolic of courage, rather than shoddy workmanship.

    Alright, fine, it was a dilapidated wreck. Happy now?

    The building had never wanted it to be that way, I hope you understand. It's like that Oscar Wilde quote, which -- as a matter of fact -- the building remembered well. After all, it had been burned inside it enough times. "Over the piano was printed a notice: Please do not shoot the pianist. He is trying his best."

    Not everyone could be imposing all of the time. Well, apart from Az. Then again, what were the chances of--

    "What the funck is this?"
    "Forsooth, this is the b√Ętiment in which Smogonne's governing body convenes in order that they might pursue ideolificatory endeavours."
    "'People shout at each other, to little effect.'"
    "Maybe they should focus more on working together, instead of fighting?"
    "Shut the funck up, NJ, friendship is for dincks. v_v"
    "I was kidding; only losers have feelings. v_v"

    The Inside Scoop shuddered in anticipation. Trouble was brewing, it knew that much. Alchemator would have preferred to brew something else, admittedly.

    ***

    Evan tried to throw the curtain back into place angrily, just as a tone-setter for the crowd watching him, and occasionally changing position in their seats. It would have been a pretty good one too, if it hadn't come away in his hand. He gave the cobwebbed cloth an experimental flourish, but decided to discard it. He coughed awkwardly.

    "I think we have guests."

    It hadn't exactly been an easy ride for Evan. Spending chapters 2 and 3 entirely off-camera, as it were, didn't really fit the part of subvillain very well. I'll just have to make up for it now, he supposed, and then die heroically -- no, devilishly! -- while I still have the chance. Maybe I can squeeze an evil laugh in there too. I haven't done one of those in ages. Mwah. Mwahaha? Mwa ha ha? Hm, I'll work on it later.

    "Everything alright, Evan?"
    "What? Oh, yeah. Totally."
    "What's with the laugh?"
    "Nothing, everything's fine."

    makiri furrowed his brow.

    "Can we get this over with, then? I don't care about this badge thing anyway, and Sharapova's on Centre Court in a couple of hours."
    "Oh, right. Yeah. Of course."

    Evan looked over at another person sitting around the table, who produced a suitcase from nowhere and opened it. Nobody knows where these people store their suitcases, or why they don't keep suits in them.

    "What, that's it?"
    "Shut up, I've worked hard to try and get you this."
    "It really does fit the name of the 'Plain badge'."

    ***

    "Forsooth, do you think we are beyond the point in time after which we might be disconcerted with the lack of suitable psychological recompense?"
    "Shut up, Alch."
    "Forsooth."
    "Hey, Az, there's one of those automated system things over there."

    Az cautiously wandered over to the pillar. It seemed pretty harmless, at least. Above the grille, presumably where the sound came from, was a small placard with a single word printed on it. Az pressed a button, and a tinny voice began to speak.

    "WELCOME TO INSIDE SCOOP. I AM NOAH. WOULD YOU LIKE TO LODGE A COMPLAINT?"
    "Uh, yeah I guess."
    "WHAT IS THE SUBJECT OF YOUR COMPLAINT?"
    "Well, you see it's--"
    "PRESS 1 FOR UNFAIR WARNINGS. PRESS 2 FOR PO MODERATORS. PRESS 3 FOR ALCHEMATOR'S PUNS. PRESS 4 FOR BLARAJAN. PRESS 5 TO SPEAK TO AN OPERATOR."
    "Oh, um. I guess we need five?"
    "But there isn't a five on the keypad."
    "YOU HAVE SURPASSED THE AMOUNT OF TIME ALLOTTED TO SELECT A CATEGORY."
    "Forsooth, such a malhappening is unfortunate."
    "WELCOME TO INSIDE SCOOP. I AM NOAH. WOULD YOU LIKE TO LODGE A COMPLAINT? PRESS--"
    "Ok, ok, I'll get it right this time."
    "YOU HAVE SURPASSED THE--"
    "Vending moderating computer machine man
    are you
    serious?
    v_v"

    MK pushed Az out of the way, and grabbed the machine by its testicles. Technically you shouldn't be able to do that to a machine, but sometimes you have to defy the laws of nature to get what you want.

    "Unlock all doors in the building, you bender."
    "OH. RIGHT. I GUESS I WILL, THEN. GOODBYE."

    There was a faint click somewhere in the depths of the crumbling building, and then the light on the machine switched off. MK relaxed his grip, and the machine seemed to relax a little as the group rushed up the stairs.

    "You know, had MK been here I think he could have solved that. Still, thanks stranger!"

    ***

    Evan cleared his throat awkwardly. Again.

    "So, um, I confer upon you this... this, uh..."
    "I believe the term is 'Artist Badge', Evan."

    The sparkly badge made a little tinkling noise as it hit the floor. Evan quickly picked it up and gave it a polish, glaring at the man who had spoken.

    "I didn't expect to see you here."
    "Naturally; that's why you didn't see me earlier."
    "What?"

    Hookline Ansinker sighed.

    "Just an observation about the world. It seems you don't observe much at all. Anyway, your procedure is all wrong. Back in my day, you'd just get the damned thing. None of this fancy stuff. Even then, though, you're still doing it wrong."
    "Uh, right. I don't see how you care though; you were the one who set this whole thing up. Why are you delaying me?"
    "The heroes need their dramatic entrance, and I can hear them coming up the stairs."​

    Chapter 5: A Clean Sweep (open)
    Everyone needs to make an epic entrance at some point in their lives, regardless of who they are or what they do. Even mundane people like bakers need that one moment of glory, though beheading a fresh loaf at the end isn't all that satisfying. Naturally, a seasoned adventurer like Az had made many an epic entrance already, but that wasn't going to stop him from doing so again. And this time, he'd make sure his jaw didn't get in the way...

    The doors ripped jaggedly from their hinges, and crashed to the floor in a storm of dust. Four figures (or, arguably, five) were silhouetted against the evening sun behind them. The committee around the table simultaneously leaped to their feet in typical miscellaenous-committee-fashion and squinted to see who the newcomers were.

    There was a cough from within the cloud, and a young woman staggered out. She turned back to the tumult and shouted between wheezes.

    "Funck, what was the point in that? v_v"
    "Adventurer artist woman
    are you
    serious?
    v_v"

    A chin crept out of the dust and looked around cautiously. Its owner followed hurriedly, and glanced around at the suited throng. One of the crowd raised an eyebrow.

    "Oh, it's Az."
    "I think you'll find that it's Swaggersaurus to you, v8r!"
    "Whatever."

    Evan looked on in amazement. He hadn't been expecting this. Well, he had -- he'd read all of the books on villainy, and knew that he had to expect not expecting various 'goodies' bursting in on all of the fun. Still, the badge trembled slightly in his hand. A young man, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, gentle prised it from his grasp and examined it closely. He sipped his tea.

    Eventually, Az's searching eyes found Evan, who automatically stood to attention. He snatched back the badge from the mysterious man, who murmured a protest that included 'Forsooth', whatever that means.

    "You can't stop it now, Az. You're too late! All of these people support me, um, makiri; this badge-giving will change Smogon forever, and you're powerless to intervene!"

    That would count as a villain speech, right? The books said you needed one. He'd managed to get 'You're too late!' in there, at least.

    Unfortunately the tense atmosphere was interrupted by MK, who had decided to capitalise on his newfound Inside Scoop access.

    "Hey, I know you!"
    "Who, me?"
    "Yeah! You're that guy who got us out of that jail. What was the name again?"

    The man waved his hands desperately.

    "Oh no, I'm sure you're mistaken. That was my twin. Yep."
    "Stop being a bender. You're MoP, right?"

    The assembled persons turned as one. They tingled with whispers -- a romantic image, yes, but entirely spoiled by the slurping of tea in one corner of the room.

    "Hey, I know that name."
    "Hookline Ansinker is MoP?"
    "He's a troll right?"
    "Didn't he start this entire thing?"
    "Let's get him!"

    Evan, by this point, was furiously flipping through 'Villains do the Funniest Things' in an attempt to save face, but gave up. He joined the-- Well, it had suddenly become a mob.

    MoP looked slightly annoyed, but laughed calmly. He reached into his pocket and drew out a badge of his own, it glinting in the flickering lights of the room.

    "Wouldn't it be a shame, friends, if I were to put this badge on?"
    "What the funck? It can't be. v_v"
    "Oh yes, Chinman. This is a Tutor Alumnus badge, and I'm not afraid to wear it!"

    The Tutor Alumnus badge was perhaps one of the rarest obtainable at Smogonne, with long and dedicated work being needed to receive it. How had MoP gotten his hands on one? He'd been denied it so many times in the past. Now he twirled it nonchalantly between his fingers.

    "Every good villain has a back-up plan, of course. In fact, this artist farce wasn't a main ploy anyway -- it was just a funny thing to watch."

    There was a furious scribble from the middle of the crowd: Evan was hurriedly taking notes. Alchemator lightly tapped Az on the shoulder.

    "Forsooth, there is little action of consequence which could be initiated."
    "You mean there's nothing we can do?"
    "Yeah. Err. Forsooth, the seconds slip by imminently."
    "Verbose Elgyem-obsessed childmanthing
    there is always
    something to do
    v_v!"
    "I have an idea."

    Before we go any further, I should probably point out that things have been frozen in place while this exchange occurs. All it takes is for one of the heroes to say "We don't have much time!" -- however verbose the variation -- and then they have unlimited time.

    Anyway, it was MK who had spoken up.

    "You know how we were actually supposed to be finding that visionary leader guy, rather than confronting the issue ourselves? Well, I guess we need to find him."

    The other three were unanimous: "But how?"

    "Well, you're mods, right? You can do that announcement thing."
    "Forsooth, I possess ontowithin my person such necessary components."
    "You have the shit? Awesome."

    It took an hour for Alchemator to construct the contraption necessary, but since time had stopped it was fine. The resulting machine seemed to be some kind of megaphone with wings.

    "How do we use it then? I'll funck Nastyjungle if it works, but whatever. v_v"

    She carefully checked over the blueprints again.

    "Forsooth, it requires momentous contra-force leverage from a significant altitude."

    So they threw it out of the window.

    A solemn tear fell from Nastyjungle's eye as the machine flew for a little while, and then remembered gravity. It smashed to pieces on the ground below.

    "Forsooth, our fortunes have altered malwise."
    "'We're fucked.'"
    "I say, what a terrible mess!"
    "Who are you?"
    "Hm, I suppose I'm not very recognisable after all these years. I'm Jason."
    "Who?"
    "Articuno64."
    "Oh."

    They stood there in silence for a while. Then time caught up. The badge resumed its twirling in MoP's hand, and the lights began to flicker once more. MoP himself, however, was shocked to see a sudden new guest.

    "Jason? What?"
    "Oh, hey MoP. Still causing trouble I see."
    "Uh. Nope. Definitely not."

    The plucky adventurers finally caught on.

    "Forsooth, this is the visionary leader for whom we have been searching!"
    "This is the guy!"
    "You mean the thing worked?"

    Nastyjungle's eyes glazed over, unfocussing. Clearly she was daydreaming her way to somewhere... interesting.

    "What thing? I just heard a loud noise and came to see what the hubbub was about."
    "Oh. v_v"
    "Anyway, what are you doing with that Tutor Alumnus badge, MoP? I'm pretty sure we decided not to give you it. Actually, it'll be in here somewhere..."

    A filing cabinet suddenly appeared in front of the man, complete with a little inscription, which read as "Outstanding Policy Decisions". While the filing cabinet itself was of a standard size, it was clear that it was very deep, and very full -- the man's arms disappeared entirely into its political depths.

    "You know, I think Smogonne lacks direction. It needs someone to make decisions, so proposals don't hit bottlenecks and such. I remember a time..."

    As the man immersed himself in his anecdote and his searching, MoP grinned. He wasn't actually being stopped. He could put the badge on. He just had to pin it in...

    "Oh, for funck's sake. v_v"

    Az swung his mighty jaw, err, mightily, and hefted its considerably girth in MoP's own chin. A handful of sparks flew, which may in fact have been MoP's teeth, and he was lifted from the ground. The boards creaked as he crashed onto the floor.

    As for the badge, it flew up into the air, flickering and glinting in time with the light. MoP was back on his feet surprisingly quickly.

    "No! The badge!"

    Articuno64 stepped back from the filing cabinet, proudly producing a scroll tied with a golden ribbon.

    "Here it is! Now, as I was saying..."

    The badge completed its arc, and neatly dropped into the open filing cabinet. MoP whimpered and clasped his hands to his head. Then he dived after it, falling into the untold depths of the Outstanding Policy Decisions vault.

    Articuno64, unaware of everything which had just happened, closed the filing cabinet. It vanished.

    "Ah yes, here it is, MoP. Oh, where'd he go?"

    The assembly stared at him, their jaws almost reaching the floor. In Az's case, it did. Quite easily, in fact.

    "Oh well. I'm sure he'll turn up again at some point. I guess I'll go back to sorting out the Essy Mess."

    And with that, perhaps aptly prophetic, statement, the man ambled out of the room.

    Epilogue (open)
    The grass swayed in the breeze as two figures appeared on the horizon. They were walking slowly, and were determined not to look at each other. Still, they risked a glance occasionally, just to make sure the other was still there. Their glances met occasionally, at which points their heads snapped back to the grass beneath them, and the air became a little awkward.

    At the peak of the field they stopped, and looked up at the sun. Eventually one of them spoke up.

    "So, uh, Nastyjungle. Well. Let me get this straight. You see..."

    He produced a Poppy from somewhere, and held it out to Nastyjungle, who inspected it critically before taking it.

    "Lately I've... Well. You know when you sort of..."
    "Seriously Az what the funck. Can you not speak English. v_v"
    "Well it's just..."
    "Why do you always have to be around anyway? You just make things, like, really awkward."
    "But..."
    "I've only ever wanted to be with your jaw, but apparently you come with it too? Why would I want that? v_v"
    "Love of my life woman
    are you
    serious?
    ;_;"

    Nastyjungle cast the Poppy to the ground and walked off. Az picked up the flower forlornly, and gazed after her. She got into a car and drove off into the sunset.

    Well, she crashed into a tree first, but we'll just leave that out.

    ***

    It was quiet in the Smeargle Studio. The fire crackled in the hearth dutifully, and Alchemator reclined in his usual chair. Not his chair, of course. No-one could sit in that. A man shuffled in. He'd come from the kitchen, or at least what was supposed to be a kitchen. Usually, though, it was piled high with tea-stained mugs.

    "Forsooth, who are you?"
    "What? I'm MK! You know, me, MK?"

    Alchemator shrugged and accepted a cup from the man, who sat opposite and added a few more logs to the fire. They both took a sip from their mugs. Alchemator sat up, alarmed.

    "Forsooth, what is this?"
    "It's soup. In a cup."
    "I... I like it."

    ***

    MoP opened his eyes and coughed. A few sheets of paper slipped off his face, and he took a deep breath of musty air. Dead paper is a scary thing: it will do anything to be read.

    Remembering his task, he plunged his arm furiously into the heap on which he was lying, yearning for the cold feel of metal on his fingers, or the prick of the pin against his hand. He found nothing but rotting paper, which clung to his hand and tried to drag him down. MoP pulled his hand away quickly, massaging some life back into it.

    He looked up. There was a little crack in the darkness high above, which he assumed was the opening of the filing cabinet. If he just found the badge he could be out of here...

    Looking around, however, it seemed there were huge mounds of paper everywhere. The idiom of finding a needle in a haystack could be thought to be appropriate here, but the task of finding a grey badge in Inside Scoop's detritus was altogether more daunting.

    MoP listened for a while, mulling over his task. A few crests away a globulous hand -- a description more onomatopoeic than accurate -- burst out of the paper, followed by a rotund figure rolling after it. MoP smiled.

    "Ah. Rodan..."

    THE END
    To be continued? Perhaps...

  2. Danmire

    Danmire Ain't no mountain high enough
    is an Artist Alumnus

    Joined:
    Jun 6, 2010
    Messages:
    1,196
    Congratulations on 3k!
    That was a very good read xD
  3. Hipmonlee

    Hipmonlee Have a rice day
    is a Smogon IRC AOp Alumnusis a Super Moderator Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnusis a Battle Server Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Winner

    Joined:
    Dec 19, 2004
    Messages:
    7,336
    Christ, that is going to be a long week..
  4. Nastyjungle

    Nastyjungle fat and sassy
    is an Artist Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnus

    Joined:
    Sep 28, 2010
    Messages:
    1,933
    aaaaaahhahahahahaha oh my funcking god

    happy 3k, my smaller (and weaker) co-mod ;)
  5. RitterCat

    RitterCat
    is an Artistis a Forum Moderatoris a Contributor Alumnus
    Moderator

    Joined:
    Aug 28, 2010
    Messages:
    1,880
    fuck Alch az my hero

    jk Alch great 3k so far, great mod, great guy to chat to :)
  6. V0x

    V0x Glycine G
    is an Artist Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Oct 16, 2010
    Messages:
    1,794
    hahaha awesome!!! Forsooth
  7. Shiny Mew2

    Shiny Mew2

    Joined:
    Jul 30, 2010
    Messages:
    1,063
    Your 3k has foretold the future.

    Smogcraft will probably be down a month. Anyway, your story was really well written!
  8. DM

    DM Ce soir, on va danser.
    is a Site Staff Alumnusis a Super Moderator Alumnusis a Smogon IRC SOp Alumnus

    Joined:
    May 24, 2005
    Messages:
    12,801
    lol that was a fun read, congrats
  9. Snorlaxe

    Snorlaxe 2 kawaii 4 u
    is a Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Jun 21, 2009
    Messages:
    2,230
    one of the best xks in ages imo. congrats cutie :D
  10. Ninahaza

    Ninahaza You'll always be a part of me
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnus

    Joined:
    May 9, 2010
    Messages:
    1,305
    haha, such a fun, funny read
    Congratulations
  11. ButteredToast

    ButteredToast

    Joined:
    Oct 21, 2009
    Messages:
    749
  12. Alchemator

    Alchemator my god if you don't have an iced tea for me when i
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Smogon Media Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Feb 7, 2009
    Messages:
    3,803
    This is a pretty awesome response!

    I do have a plot vaguely planned out in my head, so stay tuned I guess?
  13. iss

    iss happily ever after
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Jun 5, 2009
    Messages:
    2,093
    wow i missed half the references

    i feel like such a noob
  14. Alan

    Alan

    Joined:
    Jan 14, 2010
    Messages:
    2,809
    who is alchemator?

    edit: also it's just not the same without you having a farfetch'd avatar. :(
  15. Exarius

    Exarius

    Joined:
    Aug 7, 2009
    Messages:
    718
    I see you are still writing.

    Also, I echo the above, except with the Remoraid obsession.
  16. Furosuto

    Furosuto

    Joined:
    Jun 23, 2011
    Messages:
    1,411
    Sweet 3k Alch! I loved the short story! Let's look forward to another thousand soon!
  17. Xaqwais

    Xaqwais

    Joined:
    Dec 25, 2008
    Messages:
    1,715
    Love ya Alch, I'm sorry I never read anything you ever tell me to read.
  18. Tortferngatr

    Tortferngatr

    Joined:
    Sep 8, 2009
    Messages:
    2,623
    Great 3K, Alch.

    Excellent jokes.
  19. waterwarrior

    waterwarrior

    Joined:
    Oct 20, 2010
    Messages:
    1,531
    The villain's name is Hookline Ansinker. That just made my day

    This better continue, or I will eat you.
  20. macle

    macle ribbit
    is a member of the Site Staffis a Forum Moderatoris a Smogon Media Contributoris a Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Battle Server Moderator Alumnus
    Little Cup Co-Leader

    Joined:
    Jun 21, 2008
    Messages:
    3,572
    nj is mine
  21. PK Gaming

    PK Gaming Pursuing My True Self
    is a Site Staff Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Community Contributor Alumnusis a Tiering Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnusis a Past SPL Winner

    Joined:
    Aug 18, 2009
    Messages:
    5,153
    Entertaining 3K topic, i'm eagerly awaiting more :)

    Congrats dude!
  22. Alchemator

    Alchemator my god if you don't have an iced tea for me when i
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Smogon Media Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Feb 7, 2009
    Messages:
    3,803
    As promised I'm back in the new year!

    Chapter 3: Visionaries (open)
    "Forsooth, dear Jastynungle, is there an adequate explanation as to the seating decision of this fellow?"
    "Alch can you just, like, speak normally for once?"
    "Forsooth, I dictate unto the ubiquitous wholly in perfect tongue!"
    "What the funck?"

    Alright, I guess that kind of opening is a bit confusing. It turned out that Az had made a slight mistake in choosing his seat -- that is, he was now occupying Alchemator's chair. No-one was allowed to occupy Alchemator's chair. Not even Alchemator; that's British logic for you! Nastyjungle sighed (this was becoming a more common occurrence every day). She tapped her foot on the floor impatiently as Az and Alch got into yet another debate; that must be a British thing too. While it was quite difficult to follow, she caught words like "paternalism" and "semantics", and decided to fuck this shit.

    "Everybody shut up so I can say my piece!"
    "Forsooth, as self-appointed chair of this debate, I hereby attempt to procure silence among those concerned. Speaking of chairs..."
    "Shut up, Alch!"
    "Forsooth, I cannot take fault with that which you have thus spoken in terms of formatting. Pray, continue."
    "Alch can you
    like
    transl8?"

    Feeling exasperated, Nastyjungle decided to shout above them -- it would be the only way to make any progress. This semi-introduction was dragging on enough already anyway.

    "I assume you know why we're all here?"
    "Forsooth."
    "Yeah."
    "No."
    "Who was that?"
    "Forsooth, I know not."

    The voice seemed to have come from the corner of the room, and was spoken in a clear Essex accent. The man, realising he might finally be someone important in the grand scheme of things, jumped up and ran over.

    "Hey it's me, MK Ultra!"

    A pause.

    "You know, me. MK Ultra?"
    "Are you an artist or something?"
    "Err, no."
    "A spriter?"
    "Nope."

    Nastyjungle gave a harsh, sideways glance at Alch.

    "A writer?"
    "Nope again."
    "So why are you here?"
    "Actually I don't know. I sit in the corner and insult people, I guess."

    Great, thought Nastyjungle, another nutcase. Oh well, they were going to need all the help they could get.

    "Then I will explain what the hell is going on in this situation. Let's just say that I couldn't manage 'generally'.

    A little while ago Az was going to call by to talk to me. I'd prepared everything: the candles were lit, the wine was breathing in the kitchen -- no don't worry Az it wasn't supposed to be, uh, romantic or anything, it was just... Anyway, I switched on the Last Post news and I saw this thread. Gotta say, I had to do a double take, and even then I had to get one of my munchkins to check it properly for me. I was right the first time though, it looked like someone had nominated some makiri guy to get an artist badge!"

    A gasp ensued from the listening audience, though two-thirds of said crowd already knew everything that was going on.

    "He designed some shirt for VGC winners apparently, and Evan wants him to get an artist badge!!! How does that make sense? v_v"
    "Forsooth, it appears most dire."
    "What the funck?"
    "Who cares?"

    Another gasp. It appeared that this MK Ultra guy, whoever he was, was the one who had spoken out of turn.

    "Forsooth, iiMKUltra, do you fully cognify precisely that which such a travesty implicates?"
    "It's just a few pixels, right? No big deal. Stop being such a bender about it."
    "What does bender mean?"
    "I'll explain later, NJ."
    "Later, az...?"
    "Forsooth, focus purely on the subject matter which currently bears force on our beings, Jastynungle! Such a nomination but serves to weaken the reward for which artists should strive!"
    "Transl8?"
    "He means the artist badge gets a bit pointless."

    Silence ensued. You know, the kind of unexplainable silence that happens sometimes. Alch looked to MK; MK looked to NJ; NJ looked at Az for a second then blushed, so she decided to look at Alch instead. Az felt a bit lonely, so he looked at his beautifully-chiselled jaw. It was Nastyjungle who spoke next, trying to pass off her flush as a sign of frustration.

    "But what can we do? aragornbird isn't around any more and Evan isn't listening to reason -- he just posted some crappy Pollock painting!"
    "Forsooth, is such a happening conceivable?"
    "Yeah!!!"
    "Forsooth, despicable."
    "I have an idea."

    It was the first time MK had spoken up in a little while. I suppose no-one had planned to listen to him, but there wasn't really much choice any more.

    "We need to find a new leader. A visionary leader."
    "Funck, that's a great idea!"
    "Forsooth, a visionary leader can give Smogon direction, and get shit done!"
    "But who?"

    Another awkward silence. It has to be said, the Smeargle's Studio crowd is generally quite intelligent, but finds it a bit difficult to progress between various plot points.

    "We can go get that Nintendo64 guy."
    "Forsooth, Articuno64?"
    "Yeah, him!! v_v"

    Az looked up, and struck a more heroic pose than normal. Thankfully his jaw was always in a heroic pose -- anything that chiselled has to be, by default.

    "Then let's go, we have no time to waste!"


    This more of a stepping-stone chapter, as they might call it in the business I'm not in.
  23. Nastyjungle

    Nastyjungle fat and sassy
    is an Artist Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnus

    Joined:
    Sep 28, 2010
    Messages:
    1,933
    i am so not that sassy




    ....ok i probably am



    fuck
  24. NatGeo

    NatGeo sun's coming up
    is a Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Sep 4, 2010
    Messages:
    2,428
    wait what alc hit 3k

    big

    edit oh my god im dying

    double edit iss i was dying of laughter 9.9
  25. iss

    iss happily ever after
    is a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus

    Joined:
    Jun 5, 2009
    Messages:
    2,093
    nice edit...

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