Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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And so it begins.
Part 0: Recruitment Drive
ArmorCity lies at the heart of Armorgames. It is the scene of great hustle and bustle, of lively trade and transactions and sometimes heated battle, depending on where one might find themselves. Since the days of Beta, it has grown and evolved into a place of over a quarter of a million residents, with a plethora of different venues and a rich history to match.
As such, roadways and passages have been built over others, and as the urban edifice mounts, so too do the secrets, known only to a precious few. The rest will only hear through the filter of rumour and whispers, debating on the existence and the whereabouts of these routes, whether they might even lead directly to Armor Castle itself, or beyond, whatever that might be.
It is these secrets that, ironically in the days where a transparent democracy is fairly demanded, allow for the smooth running of any true administrative regime. And so it is that the abandoned routes that run beneath the city might come to be used in this capacity.
There was a pause. Then another voice piped up:
Carlie rested her chin on her folded hands, peering quizically at the ninja horse. "What do you mean, Strop?"
"Well," Strop explained, "Asherlee is on indefinite hiatus, the DragonMistress has retired, Calm simply disappeared without a trace..."
Strop paused for a second for this to sink in, then continued:
"...and among those of us who are here," Strop continued obliviously, "We aren't here very much! Moe, for example-"
Strop scratched his head, obviously getting flustered at the interruptions: "And Flipski..."
Strop rubbed his ears tenderly, before shaking his muzzle. "...Nevermind. Zophia," Strop threw a quick glance to the silhouette playing with its own reptilian tail, "...is pretty much the only one here on a full time basis, seeing as my own missions are becoming more difficult. Nemo, naturally, being Nemo, is always here and not here." Likewise, the vagrant in the wolfskin sitting on the windowsill had nothing to say. "Dank, on the other hand-"
"Alright, moving right along," visibly sweating now, Strop cut to the chase. He spread his hands as he turned once again to address the head of the chamber: "Well, Carlie, you yourself would know the demands of commitments abroad."
There was a small drawn breath, and then silence, save for the sound of fingers tapping on tabletop. Finally, Carlie spoke. 
"Time for what?" was the uniform chorus.
"Time," Carlie paused, perhaps in hesitation, perhaps dramatically, "To choose a new moderator!"
The reaction was immediate, but if any one of them had feared of dissent or outcry, it was not to be:
rose the familiar, celebrated anthem.
But then, Moe's Hawking voice cut through with a shattering reality: "We can't use that."
"If you recall, somebody got too excited and broke it when they spun it last time."
There was a shifting sound as everybody turned to stare at the hulking figure slouched in the corner.
Devoidless fidgeted, grinding his claws together.
"Shaddup, I just don't know my own strength, I guess..."
"So much for firing up the Lear jet," Ubertuna lamented.
"And the burnt offering," Nemo chimed in.
"And the week-long holiday in the six-star island resort," rejoined Dank.
"And the all night partying." Even Carlie mercilessly piled it on.
Devoidless thrashed his tail, dislodging Nemo from his perch, where he fell from view with a yelp and a crash.
A few awkward moments passed. Then Strop spoke: "So then...what is to be done?"
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Stay tuned for further updates!
But I'll have another installment out tomorrow.
I wonder how people will react...
heheheeeeeee~
