Post by Secretary on Dec 11, 2016 4:01:10 GMT
It was a relatively calm and tranquil Wednesday morn, a cool and brisk December’s air slowly slithered and snaked its way through the intricate maze-like structure of the Silver Platoon’s east capitol. As the residents went about their business, the rhythmic clack of heels sounded amongst the hustle and bustle of the busy town, drowned out by the conversations of the varied busybodies found within. It had been quite some time since Meringue had been so close to the city she had made her home for so many years, although she was not one to waste time to lament about days gone by. Not when she could be carrying out tasks that were so much more practical. Her brisk, professional pace was soon brought to a slow trot. Something had caught her eye. After checking if it was open, she stepped in front of the automatic door to a library. Feeling as if she had earned an hour’s break, she walked to the counter. “I do not have a card,” She said, “I presume that this is enough to compensate.” handing over the required admission to at least stay there for a while. The librarian was an aged woman, wisps of greyed hair topping her head like that of the dusting on a teacake, strands hanging here and there, covering her wrinkled face in some areas. The woman had a look of surprise, “We don’t get many patrons ‘ere anymore” She said, relieved by this visit regardless. “A shame.” Said Meringue, “Literature is the foundation of society, many people here could stand to make use of an expanded vocabulary,” as she briefly browsed the various brochures and leaflets held at the front desk. The old librarian took a small pause to think, eventually speaking up to the sharply dressed Majin woman.
“It’s true, we’ve been havin’ a large amount o-” She began,
“Bandits, thugs, ruffians? I am aware.” Interrupted Meringue, putting the brochure she had been browsing back onto the rack.
“W-Well, I was goin’ to sa-”
“Regardless, this is not a topic for a place of education. We are too wise to waste our time with such frivolous worries. I will not be long.” She said, flashing a reassuring smile.
Having finished this conversation with the elderly librarian, Meringue began to walk into the main area of the library, examining various titles arranged in their orderly fashion. Tall monoliths of bookshelves towered above even the tallest of literary enthusiasts, as she walked around the veritable chamber of tomes long and short, new and old, she came across a book that had been thrown on the floor by a previous visitor. She carefully knelt down to pick it up and examine it for any damage, checking the author of said book. “Such a shame, this is no way to treat your work, Mister Oda. I apologise on the culprit’s behalf.” She said solemnly, putting the novel back in its rightful, alphabetical place and giving a small internal chuckle to herself at the notion of talking to a book. She continued traversing the hexagonal patterned carpet in search of a book to sit down and read, eventually taking notice of one much higher up. With no ladder in sight, she gently floated upwards to get it, she ran a finger down the spine of the novella in satisfaction. “Perhaps now I will have the chance to finish your tale, hm?” She smiled, slowly floating back to the ground. The sharply dressed Majin looked around briefly, finding a nice and solitary table to herself to which she walked towards. Pulling the chair outwards, she placed herself neatly atop of the seat and moved it back in, so as to not disturb any other library-goers in their pursuit of knowledge or escapism. The woman gave a smile at the book as she opened it, “Hello old friend, let us begin again shall we?”
Her peace was not long lived however, as the moment she even dared to mentally utter the first syllable, a loud and quite frankly rude rumbling echoed throughout the vicinity, knocking a few books from their safe little perches. If explosions could be personified, this one would be a loudmouthed, rebellious teenager. Which of course deserved to be punished regardless of the scenario, or level of physical form or sentience for that matter. She gave a small sigh and patiently stood up, tucked her chair in, and went to put her book back. After which she walked back to the front desk of the library, of which the old woman was now hiding under. “After I leave, kindly lock the doors.” Said Meringue, to which the old woman happily complied. As the sharply dressed Majin stepped out of the door she was greeted with that could only be described as anarchy, a veritable symphony of screams, panic and hysteria. Amongst it all, she could hear a gruff mess of a laugh booming throughout the area. She quickly moved through the swarms of running civilians to see a large mountain of a boar zoanthrope standing atop the roof of a crashed car.
“SHIRARARARA! LISSEN UP SWINES, THIS HERE TOWN BELONGS TO ME NOW, THE GREAT LORD DUFFY!” He bellowed, the end of the spiked club in which he wielded smashing down onto the destroyed vehicle, adding yet another dent to it and smashing another window. Meringue gave an exasperated sigh at the honestly rather generic source of the disturbance, but alas, such an annoyance could not be ignored. She slowly and calmly walked towards the disturbance and held out her palm. “You there. Yes, the large boorish Zoanthrope” Said Meringue, “Can you tell me a nine letter word for “cut”?” She asked, giving as innocent a smile as she could muster. “EEEEH!? A YOUNG SOW IS COMIN’ UP TO ME, THE GREAT LORD DUFFY TO ASK A QUESTION!?” Boomed the boar, promptly letting out another booming laugh. Meringue took a brief moment to keep her composure at the notion of being called a “sow” and kept up her smile.
“Yes, please answer if you will.” She said
“BACON, THE FINEST OF CUTS. SHIRARARARA!” He snorted, swinging his club around once more.
“Not quite, you see the word I was looking for…” Said Meringue, running a finger up her exposed palm. “Was “dismember”...” She finished, swinging her right arm to the side. Causing her rather well kept hand to shift and reshape into that of an ornate looking blade, which was promptly pointed at the boar Zoanthrope. “Please, surrender while you still ca-” Said the Majin, before being swiftly interrupted by the spiked club crashing down next to her, mass amounts of brute strength delivering a gust of wind from the impact, barely missing her by an inch.
“You lissen here, sow… There’s only one top dog ‘round here now… Me, Duffy…” The beast snarled, what could only be described as the breath of a corpse emanating from his mistreated and contaminated mouth. “It is good to know that the plaque in your mouth is as black as your heart, pig…” Retorted Meringue, frowning.
“I AM NOT A PIG” Roared the zoanthrope, bringing about a mighty sweeping swing of his club in an attempt to strike the woman in a blind rage. Meringue jumped over it, using her ability of flight in order to aid in her balance when landing. As running alone was relatively difficult in heels, let alone armed combat. That in mind, someone probably could make use of heels of any sort in combat with the right mindset. Such a prospect was not such a poor choice of an idea when Meringue really took a moment to think about the ramifications of this course of action, all the while ducking and weaving from the desperate swings of a man scorned. An enraged fighter was rarely an accurate one after all, although there were times when he got close. Meringue reached into her sleeve and took out a handkerchief, the self proclaimed “lord” showing a brief moment of confusion at this supposedly irrelevant development until Meringue threw it upwards and drove a heel into the vast expanse of rotund flesh that made up the boar’s abdominal area, the handkerchief caught between the two, while she would have gone for the neck under normal circumstances for a near instant neutralisation, the boorish man was simply too large for even her to do so. The sheer impact and drive behind the kick sent a noticeable rippling wave throughout the large mass of a zoanthrope, through the means of a delayed reaction like a bullet train entering the station, the supposed “Lord Duffy” was sent barrelling backwards, resembling more of a boulder that an explorer would run away from than a man of any species. He eventually came to a stop upon colliding with a nearby car, shattering everything that would even make it resemble one. Reduced to scrap metal and glass. Meringue walked towards the battered and bloodied Zoanthrope with the same air of professionalism she kept up throughout, the clacking of her heels echoing through the clamouring crowds and spectators. As she walked up the the humanoid boar, she lifted her leg up once more and swiftly drove her foot into his neck, letting out a pained mixture of a wheeze and a pig-like squeal from Duffy. The “audience” announcing the brutality of this attack with a resounding “ooh...!”. With the situation taken care of, Meringue looked at the fallen "lord". "That will do, pig..." She said, then turning to the nearest person after picking up and reclaiming her handkerchief. “See to it that this man is arrested.” She said, her demand being met with a slightly fearful nod. The woman began walking away calmly as the people crowded around the now unconscious boar zoanthrope, until suddenly she was met with a sharp but short lived pain in her head. As she put her hand to it and concentrated, she regained her composure.
“That is a flavour I have not sensed in quite some time…” She said, giving a small nod to herself and beginning to take off in flight to follow this feeling inside, leaving behind the town she had very briefly called “home” in order to find what she had been missing for so long. Perhaps she will find the time to read that book another day...
“It’s true, we’ve been havin’ a large amount o-” She began,
“Bandits, thugs, ruffians? I am aware.” Interrupted Meringue, putting the brochure she had been browsing back onto the rack.
“W-Well, I was goin’ to sa-”
“Regardless, this is not a topic for a place of education. We are too wise to waste our time with such frivolous worries. I will not be long.” She said, flashing a reassuring smile.
Having finished this conversation with the elderly librarian, Meringue began to walk into the main area of the library, examining various titles arranged in their orderly fashion. Tall monoliths of bookshelves towered above even the tallest of literary enthusiasts, as she walked around the veritable chamber of tomes long and short, new and old, she came across a book that had been thrown on the floor by a previous visitor. She carefully knelt down to pick it up and examine it for any damage, checking the author of said book. “Such a shame, this is no way to treat your work, Mister Oda. I apologise on the culprit’s behalf.” She said solemnly, putting the novel back in its rightful, alphabetical place and giving a small internal chuckle to herself at the notion of talking to a book. She continued traversing the hexagonal patterned carpet in search of a book to sit down and read, eventually taking notice of one much higher up. With no ladder in sight, she gently floated upwards to get it, she ran a finger down the spine of the novella in satisfaction. “Perhaps now I will have the chance to finish your tale, hm?” She smiled, slowly floating back to the ground. The sharply dressed Majin looked around briefly, finding a nice and solitary table to herself to which she walked towards. Pulling the chair outwards, she placed herself neatly atop of the seat and moved it back in, so as to not disturb any other library-goers in their pursuit of knowledge or escapism. The woman gave a smile at the book as she opened it, “Hello old friend, let us begin again shall we?”
Her peace was not long lived however, as the moment she even dared to mentally utter the first syllable, a loud and quite frankly rude rumbling echoed throughout the vicinity, knocking a few books from their safe little perches. If explosions could be personified, this one would be a loudmouthed, rebellious teenager. Which of course deserved to be punished regardless of the scenario, or level of physical form or sentience for that matter. She gave a small sigh and patiently stood up, tucked her chair in, and went to put her book back. After which she walked back to the front desk of the library, of which the old woman was now hiding under. “After I leave, kindly lock the doors.” Said Meringue, to which the old woman happily complied. As the sharply dressed Majin stepped out of the door she was greeted with that could only be described as anarchy, a veritable symphony of screams, panic and hysteria. Amongst it all, she could hear a gruff mess of a laugh booming throughout the area. She quickly moved through the swarms of running civilians to see a large mountain of a boar zoanthrope standing atop the roof of a crashed car.
“SHIRARARARA! LISSEN UP SWINES, THIS HERE TOWN BELONGS TO ME NOW, THE GREAT LORD DUFFY!” He bellowed, the end of the spiked club in which he wielded smashing down onto the destroyed vehicle, adding yet another dent to it and smashing another window. Meringue gave an exasperated sigh at the honestly rather generic source of the disturbance, but alas, such an annoyance could not be ignored. She slowly and calmly walked towards the disturbance and held out her palm. “You there. Yes, the large boorish Zoanthrope” Said Meringue, “Can you tell me a nine letter word for “cut”?” She asked, giving as innocent a smile as she could muster. “EEEEH!? A YOUNG SOW IS COMIN’ UP TO ME, THE GREAT LORD DUFFY TO ASK A QUESTION!?” Boomed the boar, promptly letting out another booming laugh. Meringue took a brief moment to keep her composure at the notion of being called a “sow” and kept up her smile.
“Yes, please answer if you will.” She said
“BACON, THE FINEST OF CUTS. SHIRARARARA!” He snorted, swinging his club around once more.
“Not quite, you see the word I was looking for…” Said Meringue, running a finger up her exposed palm. “Was “dismember”...” She finished, swinging her right arm to the side. Causing her rather well kept hand to shift and reshape into that of an ornate looking blade, which was promptly pointed at the boar Zoanthrope. “Please, surrender while you still ca-” Said the Majin, before being swiftly interrupted by the spiked club crashing down next to her, mass amounts of brute strength delivering a gust of wind from the impact, barely missing her by an inch.
“You lissen here, sow… There’s only one top dog ‘round here now… Me, Duffy…” The beast snarled, what could only be described as the breath of a corpse emanating from his mistreated and contaminated mouth. “It is good to know that the plaque in your mouth is as black as your heart, pig…” Retorted Meringue, frowning.
“I AM NOT A PIG” Roared the zoanthrope, bringing about a mighty sweeping swing of his club in an attempt to strike the woman in a blind rage. Meringue jumped over it, using her ability of flight in order to aid in her balance when landing. As running alone was relatively difficult in heels, let alone armed combat. That in mind, someone probably could make use of heels of any sort in combat with the right mindset. Such a prospect was not such a poor choice of an idea when Meringue really took a moment to think about the ramifications of this course of action, all the while ducking and weaving from the desperate swings of a man scorned. An enraged fighter was rarely an accurate one after all, although there were times when he got close. Meringue reached into her sleeve and took out a handkerchief, the self proclaimed “lord” showing a brief moment of confusion at this supposedly irrelevant development until Meringue threw it upwards and drove a heel into the vast expanse of rotund flesh that made up the boar’s abdominal area, the handkerchief caught between the two, while she would have gone for the neck under normal circumstances for a near instant neutralisation, the boorish man was simply too large for even her to do so. The sheer impact and drive behind the kick sent a noticeable rippling wave throughout the large mass of a zoanthrope, through the means of a delayed reaction like a bullet train entering the station, the supposed “Lord Duffy” was sent barrelling backwards, resembling more of a boulder that an explorer would run away from than a man of any species. He eventually came to a stop upon colliding with a nearby car, shattering everything that would even make it resemble one. Reduced to scrap metal and glass. Meringue walked towards the battered and bloodied Zoanthrope with the same air of professionalism she kept up throughout, the clacking of her heels echoing through the clamouring crowds and spectators. As she walked up the the humanoid boar, she lifted her leg up once more and swiftly drove her foot into his neck, letting out a pained mixture of a wheeze and a pig-like squeal from Duffy. The “audience” announcing the brutality of this attack with a resounding “ooh...!”. With the situation taken care of, Meringue looked at the fallen "lord". "That will do, pig..." She said, then turning to the nearest person after picking up and reclaiming her handkerchief. “See to it that this man is arrested.” She said, her demand being met with a slightly fearful nod. The woman began walking away calmly as the people crowded around the now unconscious boar zoanthrope, until suddenly she was met with a sharp but short lived pain in her head. As she put her hand to it and concentrated, she regained her composure.
“That is a flavour I have not sensed in quite some time…” She said, giving a small nod to herself and beginning to take off in flight to follow this feeling inside, leaving behind the town she had very briefly called “home” in order to find what she had been missing for so long. Perhaps she will find the time to read that book another day...