April Fools!
Spoiler!Makes me think that after an entire year I would write my much cooler ideas. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. I apologize in advance.
- Extra a -Spoiler!
“Cool, but not right now.”
“Nah-ah”
“This will do.”
Pointy elf like ears perk upwards as a girl of tan skin and teal hair turns to face two people sitting in the center of a warmly colored room. Aiming to match the same living room setup as her mother’s house like starship, a glass table, supported by an onyx cross, sits in the center of a tan carpet surrounded by large fluffy chocolate couches and a nearby potted palm tree. Among these furnishings also came the several hanging pictures upon a beige wall featuring the girl’s family, lamps and more potted plants filling out the corners of the room, a large flat television with several books and cases standing underneath it, an absurdly large stereo system sitting by the hallway doorway, several unique end tables, and the seemingly random tribal objects and painting covering up what empty spaces remained on the wall. Coupled with the somewhat warm dim lighting the lamps provided. It almost made everything seem like something out of one her mother’s designer magazines, ones that could be seen lying about on one of the two couches.
Skipping forward to take her place at the glass table, the tan girl could already find sitting east of it a pale dewmen boy of purple hair, Kazamir, and north of the table a fair skin newmen girl of white, Kreszentia. Like the tan girl, Kriszentia too had pointy elf like ears. Unlike the tan girl however, the lighter newearl wore a constant bored expression, finding emotion only through subtly used secret powers and her eyebrows for the most part. Ones that rose up as Kazamir said in a peppy voice,
“Yadira, we finished preparing our gear. Uh . . . almost anyways. What’s the plan today?” After that, the dewmen boy picks up a tiny wooden shield with one hand, and a just as tiny battle axe with the other. Both made to be held by poseable figures. On the table figures belonging to the boy and the girl could be seen scattered about at their ends. They were ready.
To answer this question the tan newearl, Yadira, bends forward and wiggles a finger in the air. “It is time,” she begins with a wave and twist of her hand, “to unleash my glorious plan!”
“You’re not going to pull a can of soda out of your chest are you?” dully asks Kreszentia.
“No.” sharply replies an amused Yadira. “Something better. Since it’s my turn to come up with a story, I’ve come up with another scenario for us to use. One of swords and magic and death.”
Upon hear this Kazamir furrows his brow in concern and lowers his tiny gear. At the same time Yadira plops down four random figures; one that looked to be a masked urban crime fighter striking a pose, another a gruff looking angel with his arms open with embrace and finally two red headed newmen twins. Both of the twins wore similar rather skimpy outfits and were posed to be on their knees holding each other’s hands.
“That doesn’t sound good,” says a still concerned Kazamir.
“What’s with the figures?” Kreszentia adds.
Compared to Yadira’s out of place figures, Kreszentia seemed to have something else in mind entirely; having brought expensive, highly articulate and highly detailed armored knights of various factions. Kazamir on the other hand brought fur trimmed and winter oriented Arks personnel. With Kreszentia giving him her spare shields to use with them. Normally Kazamir and Kreszentia were used to working with each other when coming up with a scenario. But when it came to Yadira, who usually keeps her thoughts to herself, they could only guess what they should bring and wing it from there.
“Shush,” Yardira sharply hushes to Kazamir. “I’ve been working on this idea all week. Also this is the Masked Pheonix, a hero from a long time ago or something. I’ve been thinking of using her in this story, but that’s a work in progress. High chance she might die, or not. The other one is . . . well . . . let’s call him Zorael for now. He’s an angle that may do some divine intervention . . . or something. I’m not actually sure where I got this one but hey, here he is. Finally this is Petrice and Denise. They’re those custom HUnewearls I ordered a while back. Figured I’d bring them out and do something with them. Pretty cool, huh?”
Kreszentia unenthusiastically stares at the twins.
Kazamir absentmindedly agrees.
“Anyways my story involves a five nation war all fighting to become the one true kingdom. Of the five, the one nation of research and science develops a super soldier project,” she says with a flex of her arms. “Kinda like Arks, and turns the tide of war forever.” After that, Yadira pauses and takes the time to glance between the two. “Still with me? Good,” she says before anyone has the chance to answer. “Our story takes place during the pivoting point of that war just before the assault of that super soldier’s base.”
Kazamir raises two palms and stops Yadira instantly. “Okay,” says Kazamir slowly. “Where do we come in? And how long do I get to live, and why the assault of the super soldier base? What are they called anyways? What are the nations even called?”
“I already have roles for you three, but me being the great and gloriously merciful person that I am, I’m willing to be flexible. You,” she begins, a finger aiming at the dewmen boy, “are the princess’s royal bodyguard of the archer nation. Not as buff as I would like but that doesn’t matter.”
Without thinking, Kazamir looks to his arm and subconsciously begins to rub at his bicep.
“You protect Noreen, who is said princess, from the other factions. Likewise, I become the great and almighty bodyguard to Kreszentia after the fall of my group. Originally the character was a dude, but I thought the role was too cool the pass up for myself. I get to behead the grim reaper and do other cool stuff. Speaking of princesses and bodyguards, where is she anyways? Noreen,” Yadira yells in a queenly manner. “You are needed at the table of the chicken bucket, temporal future edition. See?” Yadira eagerly asks as she presses her face against the table top glass. “I cleaned it so it’s all nice and shiny and futurey.”
“Right,” slowly responds the seemingly uninterested Kreszentia. Seeing as Yadira seemingly avoided Kazamir’s questions, the white hair neweral pats at the boy’s shoulder and continues, “Last I saw of Noreen, she was in the kitchen with your parents. Eating ice cream I believe.”
Yadira takes out a juice box from her left pocket and harshly sips at it. “I see how it is,” she complains.
Kazamir points at the box and asks, “Did . . . you always have that with you?”
Ignoring the question, Yadira places the juice box’s straw against her lips before suddenly setting it onto the table and storming towards an open door. “Here I am, telling of my amazing idea, and she’s sitting in the kitchen eating my ice cream. And it better not be my ice cream.”
Once at the doorway, Yadira’s head peek into the kitchen to see her father sharing a juice box of his own with her mother.
“Why would they— you know what never mind,” Yadira thinks in her head. “That’s not important right now. What is important,” she continues, now looking in the direction of a black wooden table, “Is getting Noreen.”
Sitting at the table by a matching windowsill sat the only pure human in Yadira’s circle of friends. Though all of them looked human in general Yadira and Kreszentia’s pointy ears and Kazamir’s pale hidden tattooed skin, and hidden stubby horns, set them apart from what could be considered normal; or in this case human. As the normal human girl of brown hair kicked her legs in oblivious joy, she happily ate away at rocky road ice cream and stared out towards a distant city outside. Choosing to take advantage of her friend’s obliviousness, Yadira decides to sneak up towards the table, with her father ironically doing the same behind her.
“Noreen,” Yadira politely whispers, her eyes now floating just above the table’s wooden surface.
As the human girl is brought back into reality, Noreen blissfully hums in acknowledgement and gazes in the direction of her friend.
“We are starting our session and are needed in the living room. So if you could please kindly put away the ice cream and come to the living room table, I would appreciate it greatly.”
“Okay,” Noreen cheered, Yadira’s father taking her place as soon as the human girl hops off her chair, tub in hand. “Thanks for the ice cream, Mrs. Xol.”
“Not a problem,” Yadira’s mother sang. After that Mrs. Xol walks up to her daughter and grimly whispers to her in her ear, “You’re paying for that.”
In response Yadira throws up her hands in shock and aggressively whispers, “What? How am I going to pay for that? I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t you give me that, young girl,” her mother says in a scolding manner. “I’m well aware of how you weasel meseta out of your father.”
At once the two of them turn to look at the man sitting at the table. In his chair, they could see Mr. Xol whistling up at the ceiling and away from their prying eyes. “It’s her allowance,” he innocently says, still eyeing the roof. “Every normal kid gets ones.”
“Allowances normally go to good girls who stay out of trouble and get good grades.”
“Alright, alright,” says Yadira in quick defeat. “Let’s not get spicy— I’ll buy you another one later. And I do get good grades. I’m first in my class when it comes to hand to hand combat.”
After that Yadira spins around with a defiant twist in her heel and walks back in the direction of the living room doorway. As she made sure to see her friend out of the kitchen, a bag of flour could then be heard being slammed on the kitchen counter, as well as the quick tying of some fabric. At the same time Yadira turns her head in the direction of the sound, so did her father’s.
Standing by a recently cleaned oven was Yadira’s mother now tying on an apron in preparation for something she was going to bake. Guessing from the bag of flour and a cook book, it was going to be decently large. As soon as her mother finishes tying the knot, Yadira’s father quietly gets up from the table and immediately strolls towards the refrigerator. It seemed her father already knew what was going to be created.
In a split second, Yadira’s mother’s eyes stare to leer at her father. “Ah,” she exclaims in a commanding tone of voice.
The bespectacled man of teal hair in response stops at an open fridge door. He stares at his wife with confusion written all over his face and slowly reaches inside anyways.
“Don’t even think about it,” Yadira’s mother continues. This time a finger bounces in the man’s direction.
To this Yadira’s father smiles a concerned smile and pulls out a plastic carton of eggs. Still staring at her husband with eyes like a hawk, Yadira’s mother firmly grasps the carton handed to her and snatches it away him with an increasingly dark look in her eyes. Having a lighter smile in comparison, and his hands free once more, Yadira’s father then moves away from his wife and pulls out a silver bowl from one of the lower cabinets.
“Cut it out,” Yadira’s mother barks the moment the bowl is placed next to her.
“I’m only trying to help,” smiles the father, trying not to laugh at the same time.
Yadira’s mother points to the back of the room and replies, “I don’t want your help. Just go back to the table.”
Choosing to ignore this Yadira’s father bends down to take out a mixer from the same cabinet and places it into the bowl upon his return. Thanks to this, Yadira’s mother detaches one of the bent balls of metal wires attached to a solid pipe from the mixer and raises it into the air. “I am going to stab this whisk into your eye if you keep it up.” Before long, Yadira’s father catches his wife’s arm as she starts to make stabbing motions with the object.
“Why are you mad?” he cries. “I thought you always liked it when I helped out. Why are you getting angry at me now?”
“I said I don’t want your help.”
Yadira stomps on the ground.
“Could you two please stop? You’re both embarrassing me in front of my friends.”
To this both parents freeze at once and look at their daughter. With sorrow filling both of their eyes now, they slowly lower their arms and Yadira’s father walks back towards the table he was at earlier.
“Err . . . sorry sweetie,” her father says, giving Yadira a quick pat to the head as he passes by. In the meantime Yadira’s mother lets off a quick huff, adjusts her glasses and moves her mouth towards one cheek; placing the whisk back into the metallic bowl at that same moment. Once Yadira’s father sat back down at the table, he only manages to pick up a newspaper for a second before he slams it back down and looks at his wife. With smug look on his face he asks, “So babe, want to bake a cake together?”
At the same time Yadira closes the door behind her, a small bag of flour could be seen hitting her father’s face just before the door fully shuts.
“What was that all about?” asks Kazamir upon Yadira’s return.
By now the Kreszentia and Kazamir had developed their own time travel oriented setup. This was made obvious by the Arks figures walking out of a cheaply painted box labeled “Time Machine”. Beside the dewmen boy Yadira spots more sets of laid out paints and brushes he was using for one of the shields. Apparently he brought more colors. In case he needs to repaint anything.
“Never mind that. Now we can get back to the matter at hand. So,” Yadira continues, resting her hands on the glass table. “As I was saying, Noreen, I want you to take part in my grand story I want us to play.”
“I don’t know,” Noreen carefully responds, gliding a hand through her hair. “Roleplaying isn’t really my thing. Also . . .,” she adds in Krezentia’s direction. “Why are you two always at Yoshi’s place anyways? You two always come here it seems.”
“Kaz’s mom scares us and I would prefer to keep mine as far away as possible.”
Noreen slowly nods. “Ah,” she says, though she still doesn’t understand. At the time, she didn’t seem to really care in the end either, as she goes back to playing with her hair right after.
Yadira pats both hands on the table to draw everyone’s attention.
“Anyways,” Yadira grumbles. “You get to be a princess and choose to marry whoever you want,” she sings to Noreen.
Just like that, Noreen’s eyes grow wide and begin to sparkle. In a burst of great joy she jumps ups with hands clasped together, leans inward and says, “Really? I’m in. First thing I want to do is—”
But in a show of cat like reflexes, Kreszentia’s right hand shoots out to cover the girl’s mouth and pull her backwards. “Do not get her started,” the newearl intercepts.
“Why?” slyly smiles Yadira. “Afraid to talk about boys now?” she asks, crawling onto the table. “They too gross for you? Huh? Huh?”
Kreszentia utters a sigh and gestures toward Kazamir with her free hand. “First of all, Kaz is here, and he does not want to hear about that sort of thing.”
Hearing his name, Kazamir looks up from the shield he was repainting, glances around and asks, “What’s going on now?”
“Excuses,” says Yadira at the same time.
“Second of all, last time I tried to talk about this sort of thing with Noreen, it took me five hours, five, to change the subject. I do not want to go through that again.”
Noreen grabs Kreszentia’s hand and removes it from her face. Kazamir in the meantime raises an eyebrow before going back to painting. “If you wanted to talk about something else,” says Noreen. “You could have just asked.”
Kreszentia’s eyebrows twitch in rapid success before her left hand covers them in frustration. As she pulls her face downward, fine trails of dirt sliding across her fingers like electrical circuits allow her to put of a show of anger. Before this could go on any further, the sound of door behind them could be heard opening up followed with the pitter-pat of an entering small creature. Stepping through the front door was a small fuzzy creature wearing a pale yellow cloak and a metallic eyepatch. After he cleans his feet on the doormat, the creature then shuts the door behind him and bows.
“Ah,” Yadira screams in joy. In great burst of speed the tan girl gets up and sprints to hug the small bear-rabbit like creature at the doorway without mercy. “It’s Lilliman!”
“Lilliman?” ask Kreszentia.
“Why is there a Lilipan here on the ship?” ask Kazamir.
“He used to— and still does— go on several awesome adventures with my dad. They’ve gone from Lillipa, to Naberius to even to some of the newer planets we discover. Access granted or not. Even though some of the stories were lies, that doesn’t make them any less cool.”
Looking from Yadira to her friends, the Lilipan waves to the trio and utters, “Hello.”
Kazamir launches backwards in surprise. “Lilipans can talk?” he shouts. He then places his hands against his cheeks and lightly adds, “This changes so many things. . .”
“Just this one,” responds Yadira. “He and my dad went through the whole understanding each other phase along while back. So that’s why Lilliman can speak like us. Well roughly anyways. I take it you’re going to test out the new ship with my dad?”
The Lilipan looks up and strongly nods before walking up to the table and sitting next to Kreszentia. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was the first person he wanted to sit next to. But for some strange reason, she seemed somewhat of a distant but still familiar face.
“How did you lose your eyes?” asks the dewmen boy as he scoots closer to the critter.
“It is uh . . . a fake,” responds Lilliman.
“Yep,” adds Yadira. “Him being the war chief of his group, we thought that giving him one would make him look totally badass. That and it uses Arks technology to feed him tons of information. Don’t tell anyone though,” then whispers the girl, hiding her mouth with one hand. “It’s sort of illegal.”
Lilliman nods.
Kazamir nods as well, pretending to seal his lips.
In the meantime Kreszentia and Noreen only stare, though Kreszentia mentally takes note to keep tabs on Noreen. Just in case.
“Whelp, my mom is baking something right now. So why don’t you stick around so you can eat?”
“Eh . . . that sounds . . . eh . . . good,” the Lilipan struggles to say. “Yay!” he awkwardly adds, with a balled paw in the air.
- Extra b -Spoiler!“You’re not going to pull a can of soda out of your chest are you?” dully asked Kreszentia’s muffled voice from beyond an open kitchen door.
“No.” sharply replied an equally distant but much more amused Yadira. “Something better. Since it’s my turn to come up with a story, I’ve come up with another scenario for us to use. One of swords and magic and death.”
Within the kitchen next to the living room sat Yadira’s father, who happened to be reading a beginner’s guide on using recent technology. After hearing what Kreszentia about his daughter and sneaking food, he slowly sets his book down on the table and stares at his wife as she thoroughly rummages the pantry for the apron they owned. Just from the way his daughter replied, the father could even imagine Yadira flinging a finger in the air with much excitement and enthusiasm. With a sly smile and a raised brow, he waits a bit for his wife’s reaction before finally saying, rubbing his chin at the same time,
“Smuggling? Breaking the rules? Now why does seem to remind me of someone I know?”
The man’s wife instantly drops what she was doing and slowly looks at her husband with a sarcastic expression on her face.
“Don’t even start with me, Bitol,” the woman slowly says. “She got that from you, Mr. I snuck five whole cookies into a parent teacher conference.”
As the man casually leans back to pretend he was offended, Noreen, who joyfully ate away at a tub of ice cream next to the man, looked between the two parents without a clue as to what was going on. Still instead of walking away she decides to stay, as she was interested to see what was going to happen. Soon afterwards the man leans forward, rests an arm on the table and asks in a very amazed sort of way,
“You saw that?”
The man’s wife flicks an arm in his direction and places a hand on her hip. “Of course I saw that, you nincompoop,” she answers seriously. “The mother sitting next to you saw you as well . . . probably made her hungry too.”
The woman’s husband leans back once more and scratches at the back of his head to replay the scene in his head.
“If she wanted one, she could have just asked,” he finally replies.
“Oh yes,” snaps his wife. “I’m going to ask a random stranger pulling some random unpackaged food out from under his sleeve for something to eat. You’re lucky you didn’t get in trouble.”
“Hey,” the husband smiles, pulling a pouch of juice from his pocket, “It’s her loss.”
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” his wife shouts. The tall Newman woman points a flat hand and stares at Noreen as her witness. At the same time Mrs. Xol looks to the human girl, Noreen was frozen, just about to stuff her mouth with another spoonful.
“What did I do this time?” cries the husband. “Can’t even drink a box of juice in my own home. Can’t have no fun anymore.”
“You want to drink some juice? Do it like a normal person and get it from the pantry.”
“Fine, fine,” says the husband, getting up from his chair.
“No, no, you already got it in your hand,” waves away his wife. “Just sit back down and drink your juice.”
Doing as he was told, the man sits back down with a victorious look on his face and innocently sips away. Now returning to the silence they had before, Mrs. Xol begins to smile in the opposite direction as she just realizes that her husband never hinted he was speaking about her and may have been talking about himself the whole time. Due to this, Mrs. Xol awkward looks back to her husband and fights back the equally embarrassing smile scrabbling on both their faces.
- Extra Plus -Spoiler!“Ahhh,” scream Yoshi, Kreszentia and Kazamir as they ran for their lives down mud and tree covered mountain slopes. In the distance a wild beast could be heard tearing up the landscape behind them.
“Ayaya,” they shout while they rip through thick leaves, bushes and smack into low hanging branches.
“Uwah,” their cries echo in the air alongside the falling water they decide to drop down with.
Sailing down into a mountain side lake jutting out over endless trees, the three students and their combat equipment make a violent splash in what used to be a very calm pool. After each of them pokes the bottom with their fingers, they swim back towards the surface and latch onto a thin grassy edge. An edge that barely had enough rock for Kazamir to sit on.
“Cold, cold, cold,” mutters a shivering Yoshi upon grabbing her spot.
Seeing the dewmen boy do this, coupled with the warm sun looming high above, Kreszentia and Yoshi do the same and sit on the edge as well.
“Ah,” they happily sigh in unison. After that Yoshi looks to Kresentia with a big grin on her face and adds, “Another happy landing.”
Hearing this, Kazamir and Kreszentia slowly turn to Yoshi with eyes full of unhappiness. Since Yoshi was notorious for her crash landings, they didn’t share in her joking that this was yet another one of them.
But Yoshi didn’t care.
“So,” continues Yoshi, unfazed by her friend’s expressions. “Where’s the Fang Banther?”
Right on que the large beast that was chasing them awkwardly lands on the rim of the lake pool. With just small moments to growl and leer at the trio, the large cat soon loses its footing and slips off, down into the forest below. It made no sounds when it fell. All that could be heard were snapping branches and scattering birds on its landing.
In the silence Kazamir recovers from the shock first and calmly looks over the pool edge.
“Well,” he said, trying to contain a chuckle. “That happened.”
Yoshi in turn takes out a can of soda, opens it and does the same.
“What took it so long?” she asks before taking a sip.
“I froze the ground as we were running away,” responds Kreszentia. “I think I saw it slipped twice while trying to get back up.”
“That’s some pretty nice thinking, Kreszentia,” complements Kazamir.
Due this this Kreszentia scoots over to Kazamir and pats him on the head. “Thanks,” she replies.
“Yeah well, I could have done that too you know.”
Kresentia turns around and pokes Yoshi on the nose. “What you could have done was teleport us out of there
.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Yoshi says while tipping Kreszentia’s finger away, another hand flat on her own chest. “That’s a single person ability. Something only I can use. Two if I focus really, really hard. Like really hard.”
“Well make it three,” Kreszentia counters. Without warning she gently covers Kazamir’s ears and whispers, “Or work on your Diga skills at least. You are better at that then I am.”
“Heh,” Yoshi chuckles with two fingers pushing together. “Doesn’t he already know about that though?”
Kreszentia removes her hands. “He does not know about mine,” she replies.
“Okay . . .” cringes a confused Yoshi.
Since Kazamir was locked out of the loop, it allowed him to point outward and shout, “Hey looked who showed up.”
Back towards the shaded parts of the pool, a yellow bird with two antennas on its head steps out of a leafy branch covering the mountain wall. As its feathers began to glow in the sun, they start to contrast greatly with the grey cloth sack hanging on its back.
“That was fast,” comments Yoshi.
“How’s it going, Rappy dude,” waves Kazamir. “Got anything to eat?”
The Rappy approaches the dewmen boy and places the sack down in between them. As it begins to rummage through its contents, Kazamir leans forward hoping to get a good peek at what was inside. Right as he did, a small package and wing almost hits his face and lands in between his legs.
“Thanks,” says Kazamir with a hand rubbing his nose. While he did, the Rappy proceeds to hand similar packages to Kreszentia and Yoshi as well.
“Where did he come from?” asks Yoshi.
In response Kazamir points a finger towards the tree branch again. The Rappy does the same, but with its wing instead. Behind the bouncing leaves, everyone could barely make out a small tunnel hidden in the mountainside.
“He came though that tunnel in the wall.” The Rappy starts to preform various gestures towards the dewmen. Kazamir nods. “He also wants to know what brings us here,” he adds.
“Oh the capture mission?” exclaims Yoshi.
Kreszentia scowls and looks to the center of the pool. “Of all the times we need that . . .” in her quick pause, she catches herself as though she was going to insult someone and continues, “Of all the times we need Noreen, she’s not here.”
“Heh, yeah,” chuckles Yoshi. “I guess we could have used her big sword to knock that Banther out, huh?”
“We’re here to capture a Banther youth for ‘research reason’,” Kazamir quotes to the Rappy. “As you can see though, it’s not really working out so far.”
The Rappy starts to hop and dance around. After translating what he was trying to say, Kazamir looks to the girls and says,
“He says Banthers usually travel in groups. So we may be able to make due with whatever else shows up. Only problem is,” he continues, bringing his attention back onto the Rappy. “ARKs is really strict about what we have to work with. So I can’t say for sure they will work.”
The Rappy slumps and sits down in sadness.
“I wouldn’t worry about it though,” Kazamir quickly adds and pets the Rappy to cheer him up. “I sure we’ll finish the job. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a Banther fall like that.”
Kazamir turns to Kreszentia and shoulders his rifle.
“So, Kris,” he grins. “What’s our next course of action?”
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