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Level 5 Writer
Ranked as Civilian
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(credit goes to @Oashki for providing info on the event)
Turmoil has engulfed the Ant Kongregation. The distribution of ads to outlying websites is in dispute. This is a story for another time, however, for this story is of a man that Featureless Village deserved, but not the one it needed. This man’s name was… Bantam.
It all began as Bantam took a stroll around the Kingdom of New Grounds’ Flash Light District, aptly named after the flashlights which hung above the stages (and partly after one of the founders’ odd fascination with flashlights), upon which artists displayed their anymphations for the world to see. He walked down the worn stone path, stopping at every stage to catch a glimpse of the wondrous moving lights that weaved together in such a fashion that it created meaning, whether it was humorous, moving, or of lack of meaning itself. Stopping at one such stage, Bantam noticed that this certain anymphation, though somewhat decent, was rather lacking. Feeling rather reasonable (an oddly rare feeling in these parts, mind you), he approached the artist and began to speak.
“Excuse me, may I have a word?”
“Oh, of course! Did you enjoy my anymphation? Isn’t it wonderful? No, perfect is what it is!” The artist laughed to himself, his haughtiness a great tower with a dangerously weak base.
“Yeah, actually, I wanted to talk to you about ways you could improve.”
“Im… improve?” A vein became visible on the artist’s face, and the blood rushed to his now tomato-like head. The tower began to sway.
“Yeah. You see, in that one scene with the… er, are you alright? You’re looking a little red.”
“IMPROVE?! MY WORK IS PERFECT! PERFECT! ONLY A BUNDLE OF STICKS WOULD THINK OTHERWISE! THAT’S WHAT YOU ARE, A BUNDLE OF STICKS, YOU BUNDLE OF STICKS! NOW GO AWAY, I NEED TO PREPARE FOR INTERCOURSE WITH YOUR MOTHER!”
The entire audience stared blankly at the artist’s sudden outburst, including Bantam himself. Seconds later, however, Bantam broke into a fit of laughter; he decided to have a bit of fun with him before he left.
“Perfect, huh? You really think that? Far from it, really; the movement is utterly sloppy, and the entire thing is rigid as a board!”
“RIGID AS A BOARD?! YOU INSUFFERABLE BUNDLE OF STICKS, I HOPE YOU BURN IN TARTARUS AND THAT SISYPHUS ROLLS A BOULDER OVER YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY!”
“A fan of Greek mythology, eh? Well tell you what, Narcisuss, keep staring at your reflection; as repulsive as it is, it’s much better than having to watch what you’ve made.”
The exchange went on for hours, ending only when Bantam decided to go back to Featureless Village to round up some more folks for round two, including Oash the Ki Dealer and Major Mel of the royal guard. Insults flew left and right, including a rather lengthy speech about the madness corps and numerous confirmed kills on the clock crew by the artist. The day passed by, and Bantam felt ecstatic; he hadn’t had that much fun in years. All good things must come to an end, however, and he went to bed, not knowing that his would come sooner than expected.
The next morning, all those involved found rather hostile letters on their doorstep. They also found that they’d been banned from entering the Flash Light District, their pictures on Wanted signs right at the entrance. One picture was missing, however: Bantam’s. Bantam’s sentence wasn’t so light; in the morning, he was apprehended by Captain Wade, and taken to the executioner’s block. The golden hammer gleamed as Wade raised his arms. “Any last words?”
Bantam looked at Wade in the eyes and, making a clever smirk, said, “I. Regret. Nothing.”
As the last word passed through his lips, Wade struck down, and Bantam was no more. No blood, no remains, nothing to make any passerby realize anything had happened at all. Yet he lived on, not physically, but in the hearts of all those in Featureless Village who joined him in textual battle and wouldn’t hesitate to join him again. He lived on as a martyr, a reminder to stand up against all who raise themselves too high on the fragile yet stubborn pedestals of pretentiousness. He lived on, not as a bat, nor as a man, but as Bantam.
Recent Game Medals
Total Medals Earned: 2,740 (From 453 different games.)