Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2012 0:42:05 GMT -5
On a summers afternoon, when seagulls would squawk as they flapped their wings in the clouds; while squirrels would rummage the forest leaves for luxury nuts and fish would slither blissfully juxtaposed to the waves of the ocean, a small young fishman was running perilously across the sea floor. His soft wooden flipflops patted against the bumpy, uneven ground just outside of Fishman Island's residential area. He was running at near enough full speed and for fair reason. He bolting, pumping his drumstick wielding arms as much as possible into a plethora of coral from an open area with a wide birth, splashing against a small puddle in the process.
Soon after, bounding over a hill, a minute torrent of other fishman and merman kids followed eccentrically calling out for him and encouraging one another to get him. The boy - named Légion but by their derogatory and inflammatory taunts of him, anyone would mistakenly believe his name was Zero - paused after weaving in and out of coral into a particularly large coral outcrop to catch his breath. The hive mind of other children, still calling for his hide flooded into the minefield of coral after him passing his would be hiding place. Légion judged there passing by what he could hear, not trusting himself and his ability to inspect inconspicuously. The footsteps quickly went faint and ceased, which lead the youth to believe the torrent of hive minded children had passed him by. Légion, gave in and let out a exhale of relief before walking out of his shelter and turn to head back in the direction he had ran from.
Little did he know that one of the youths had actually paused in this part of the coral field due to lack of breath and had hand on knee panting at the time Legion walked out. The two turned, unaware the other was five feet away. There was a moment of shared awkwardness between them. Légion's eyes slightly widened and his lips curled inside his mouth, as if someone had just shoved the most sour brand of lemon known to man kind down his oesophagus. It lasted a few second while the form of a school of whales wafted above, allowing their shadows to creep over the two. When they left, Légion took a single step back, which triggered the motor skills and brain functionality of the resting youth who screamed to call his brethren. Légion turned from the child and began to run once more, moving with a distinct lack of reason and direction through the coral before meeting a dead end in the form of a cliff face.
Légion glared at the 40 foot surface at first, trying to spot a means to scale the mount and press on in his haste. Time was not on his side and Légion made a critical, executive discern to disregard the cliff and double back another way. He rotated and took a step forward to his left as the child with the hunting cry broke through the layer of coral before locking eyes on Légion. Legion tried to disappear into the multicoloured maze at the other side of the enclosure, but children were already standing in wait at the other side too.
The group sensed Légion's stalling, he could tell it almost immediately. They had gone through this process many many times and they were all aware that the clichéd pause to recount the numbers was the fist in the classic list of signs the end was drawing upon them. Légion found himself drawing back slowly towards the cliff, eventually feeling its inconsiderate, rocky touch through his vest on his shoulder blades. Légion, now feeling apprehensive by their overwhelming to the saunters towards him. He was no break in formation, no hope. Only a glint of menace in their eyes as they reached for a spherical tool of destruction, each to his own. Some above their heads, others against their shoulder, all cocked and ready for execution.
Légion settled his quivering heart, steeled his nerves, and looked all his oppressors each in the eye.
"I had a feeling it would end like this," he remarked. The other boys stood in silence watching him. Their eyes held no empathy or interest in reminiscing. Légion adjusted his crimson head band and twirled his sticks about his index fingers. "Well, I don't have all day mes amis. Viens si tu l'oses - Come if you Dare!" he called, with no sign of remorse. Instantly the troop of boys lunged their balls at Légion with the unison and intentions of a firing squad. Légion swallowed a little saliva as he tried to mark the incoming balls.[1].
<That's like a rock ballad,> he discerned to himself as he gauged how he intended his sticks to deal with the incoming fire. He began to air drum a rhythm, almost as if revving up before the balls came into his area of impact.[2]
"Kit Set: Quatre - Noyaux de Roulant!" he chanted moving into a squatting position before batting away a the balls with his sticks. They all dispersed in random directions, none of which hitting Légion. He waited a breif moment after deflecting them to gather a smile. He stretched out his arms laterally and puffed out his chest. "BEST IN THE WOOOOORLD!!!" he shouted out into the sea depths. He looked down at the boys who were also looking back in mild disbelief. "That's right? You all just bore witness to a fact that I knew all along. You can't beat me! I am the reason Tag Ball was invented. All of you are just spokes on the wheel. Me? I am the main gear! I should be doing stuff like that all day everyday, and from this moment on, I will..." began Legion, now walking forwards and backwards in front of the group of boys, taunting them with his words and his strut. "...and I don't say these things for my ego, I say it because you need to hear it. AM RESISTANCE, I AM THE ANTITHESIS, I AM REBELLION." Légion took a deep breath and looked up to the surface with a large grin and closed eyes. "I. AM. LÉG-" Légion was promptly interrupted by a deflected ball, which he had parried into the air falling flat on his face mid-monologue. The anticlimax called for rapturous laughter from his oppressors, who began to keel over in knee-slapping, belly-hugging, watery-eyed laughter. The ball rolled off Légion's face, leaving him standing in still animation with a reddened face, in part due to the ball but mostly from embarrassment.
"BWAHAHAHAHA - It hit him the face!!!"
"Sh-sh-shut up!" whimpered Légion, his eyes shifting erratically through the laughing boys. "Tais-toi I said! I'm not embarrassed! I'm cool! I'm cooler than all of you! I-i-i-I just let the ball hit me so I'd look as dorky as you guys for once!" insisted Légion, almost whining in his mad and high-spirited voice. The boys just continued to laugh. "T-t-this isn't funny! I'm still a threat! Let's play one more round and I'll prove it to all of you!"
"Calm down Zero, you're not a threat to anyone but yourself!" replied one of the more composed giggling kids while they on mass picked up their balls.
"Then let him be a runner again, he's good at running away!"
Légion dipped his head and sighed solemnly to himself before dredging his feet behind a good few paces behind the rest of his friends, who were still laughing at his unfortunate public display, adding it to the list of reasons why they saw him as joke rather than a cool, rebellious maverick.
Soon after, bounding over a hill, a minute torrent of other fishman and merman kids followed eccentrically calling out for him and encouraging one another to get him. The boy - named Légion but by their derogatory and inflammatory taunts of him, anyone would mistakenly believe his name was Zero - paused after weaving in and out of coral into a particularly large coral outcrop to catch his breath. The hive mind of other children, still calling for his hide flooded into the minefield of coral after him passing his would be hiding place. Légion judged there passing by what he could hear, not trusting himself and his ability to inspect inconspicuously. The footsteps quickly went faint and ceased, which lead the youth to believe the torrent of hive minded children had passed him by. Légion, gave in and let out a exhale of relief before walking out of his shelter and turn to head back in the direction he had ran from.
Little did he know that one of the youths had actually paused in this part of the coral field due to lack of breath and had hand on knee panting at the time Legion walked out. The two turned, unaware the other was five feet away. There was a moment of shared awkwardness between them. Légion's eyes slightly widened and his lips curled inside his mouth, as if someone had just shoved the most sour brand of lemon known to man kind down his oesophagus. It lasted a few second while the form of a school of whales wafted above, allowing their shadows to creep over the two. When they left, Légion took a single step back, which triggered the motor skills and brain functionality of the resting youth who screamed to call his brethren. Légion turned from the child and began to run once more, moving with a distinct lack of reason and direction through the coral before meeting a dead end in the form of a cliff face.
Légion glared at the 40 foot surface at first, trying to spot a means to scale the mount and press on in his haste. Time was not on his side and Légion made a critical, executive discern to disregard the cliff and double back another way. He rotated and took a step forward to his left as the child with the hunting cry broke through the layer of coral before locking eyes on Légion. Legion tried to disappear into the multicoloured maze at the other side of the enclosure, but children were already standing in wait at the other side too.
The group sensed Légion's stalling, he could tell it almost immediately. They had gone through this process many many times and they were all aware that the clichéd pause to recount the numbers was the fist in the classic list of signs the end was drawing upon them. Légion found himself drawing back slowly towards the cliff, eventually feeling its inconsiderate, rocky touch through his vest on his shoulder blades. Légion, now feeling apprehensive by their overwhelming to the saunters towards him. He was no break in formation, no hope. Only a glint of menace in their eyes as they reached for a spherical tool of destruction, each to his own. Some above their heads, others against their shoulder, all cocked and ready for execution.
Légion settled his quivering heart, steeled his nerves, and looked all his oppressors each in the eye.
"I had a feeling it would end like this," he remarked. The other boys stood in silence watching him. Their eyes held no empathy or interest in reminiscing. Légion adjusted his crimson head band and twirled his sticks about his index fingers. "Well, I don't have all day mes amis. Viens si tu l'oses - Come if you Dare!" he called, with no sign of remorse. Instantly the troop of boys lunged their balls at Légion with the unison and intentions of a firing squad. Légion swallowed a little saliva as he tried to mark the incoming balls.[1].
<That's like a rock ballad,> he discerned to himself as he gauged how he intended his sticks to deal with the incoming fire. He began to air drum a rhythm, almost as if revving up before the balls came into his area of impact.[2]
"Kit Set: Quatre - Noyaux de Roulant!" he chanted moving into a squatting position before batting away a the balls with his sticks. They all dispersed in random directions, none of which hitting Légion. He waited a breif moment after deflecting them to gather a smile. He stretched out his arms laterally and puffed out his chest. "BEST IN THE WOOOOORLD!!!" he shouted out into the sea depths. He looked down at the boys who were also looking back in mild disbelief. "That's right? You all just bore witness to a fact that I knew all along. You can't beat me! I am the reason Tag Ball was invented. All of you are just spokes on the wheel. Me? I am the main gear! I should be doing stuff like that all day everyday, and from this moment on, I will..." began Legion, now walking forwards and backwards in front of the group of boys, taunting them with his words and his strut. "...and I don't say these things for my ego, I say it because you need to hear it. AM RESISTANCE, I AM THE ANTITHESIS, I AM REBELLION." Légion took a deep breath and looked up to the surface with a large grin and closed eyes. "I. AM. LÉG-" Légion was promptly interrupted by a deflected ball, which he had parried into the air falling flat on his face mid-monologue. The anticlimax called for rapturous laughter from his oppressors, who began to keel over in knee-slapping, belly-hugging, watery-eyed laughter. The ball rolled off Légion's face, leaving him standing in still animation with a reddened face, in part due to the ball but mostly from embarrassment.
"BWAHAHAHAHA - It hit him the face!!!"
"What the heck was he even saying?"
"That stupid Zero! He's so embarrassing!"
"Sh-sh-shut up!" whimpered Légion, his eyes shifting erratically through the laughing boys. "Tais-toi I said! I'm not embarrassed! I'm cool! I'm cooler than all of you! I-i-i-I just let the ball hit me so I'd look as dorky as you guys for once!" insisted Légion, almost whining in his mad and high-spirited voice. The boys just continued to laugh. "T-t-this isn't funny! I'm still a threat! Let's play one more round and I'll prove it to all of you!"
"Calm down Zero, you're not a threat to anyone but yourself!" replied one of the more composed giggling kids while they on mass picked up their balls.
"Okay let's make new teams and play again!"
"Yeah... but I don't want to be on Zero's team, he might hit me while trying to tag the runners!"
"Then let him be a runner again, he's good at running away!"
Légion dipped his head and sighed solemnly to himself before dredging his feet behind a good few paces behind the rest of his friends, who were still laughing at his unfortunate public display, adding it to the list of reasons why they saw him as joke rather than a cool, rebellious maverick.
[1]Kit Set - Legi will scope the current wave of enemies, identifying each as a receiving piece of drumming equipment, whether a drummer or cymbal etc. - so that he can cope with attacking them methodically and simultaneously.
[2]Quartre Set - Roll Test - Legi will smash his G.S.'s across a succession of nearby targets in a line or arc. As with a percussionist doing a drum roll through a line of tom drums, Legi will strafe or rotate though the targets while pummelling them. indiscriminately distributing his hits.
[2]Quartre Set - Roll Test - Legi will smash his G.S.'s across a succession of nearby targets in a line or arc. As with a percussionist doing a drum roll through a line of tom drums, Legi will strafe or rotate though the targets while pummelling them. indiscriminately distributing his hits.
