Richard's Animorphs Forum
General Category => General Fan Fiction & Art => Topic started by: TobiasMasonPark on August 02, 2011, 09:14:38 PM
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Well, boys and girls, I have story to tell. A story inspired by the failed RP that I started some time in April. I feel the need to remind everything that the events and decisions made/discussed in this story are PURELY FICTIONAL. Any line, or other piece of dialogue I've mentioned was NEVER spoken in actuality by their real life counterparts. If I did use a line from real life, it was taken whilst discussing the story itself. NO feelings are meant to be hurt in this story. On the contrary, I wanted people to enjoy it. So, if I used anyone's name without permission, please, feel free to tell me and I'll edit whatever I write.
And, without further ado, I present you with the Prologue of RAF: Civil War.
RAF: Civil War
“I’m not interested in preserving the status quo; I want to overthrow it!”
-Niccolo Machiavelli.
Before the War…
(Prologue)
Our story takes place in no place at all. It is here that you will be introduced to a world that few knew existed; a world that has been overlooked by many over the course of its short, yet significant lifespan. One could not really call it a place, exactly, as it exists only in a magical world known as the internet. This place—that really isn’t a place—is called RAF: a forum for fans of an old series of books by a local Californian author, about children that turn into animals and fight aliens. It is a place that many lonely people have called home. It is a place where friendships grow, and small talk is made. RAF is a friendly community, though it is not without its drawbacks; for RAF, too, has a dark history, just like any other place—even if it is not really a place.
The story you are about to read is one of war. There will be battles waged, and blood spilt; old friends will be forced to choose sides and take up arms against one another; and the very structure of a society that few knew existed will be shaken to its very core.
But our story doesn’t being with the uprising formed by a newcomer to RAF. Sure, the Civil Wars were started by the former individual. But the idea of taking over RAF and removing the moderators and administrators that ran the site came from a voice that we rarely hear from on RAF. Our story truly begins with a boy named Adam, and the formation of the RAF Secret Police.
RAF began as a simple dream, fermented in the mind of a fan boy named Richard. The Animorphs fan did not dare to think that his little website would grow into such a juggernaut. If Richard knew that his innocent little society would grow to be what it is today he may have been more careful about whom he trusted to run his website. For had Richard done this, a boy named Tobias Mason Park would not have heard about the young and power hungry Adam, or of his desire to run the forums his own way. But Richard did not foresee the events that followed. Anyone who could have wouldn’t have joined RAF until much, much later.
The people of RAF were shocked by Adam’s deceit. Prior to his involvement in the RAF Secret Police, Adam was a popular member of the forum, and former administrator. But, following the disaster that took place at what is now known as Classic RAF, Adam’s position was given to another. And this is what motivated Adam to conspire against the moderators of Richards Animorph’s Forum... One Rafian, who wishes to remain anonymous, has this to say:
“Adam was my friend, and basically a good guy. But when we moved to New RAF [after Classic RAF crashed] his post as administrator was given to someone else [Russell] and he threw a hissy…He started the RAF Police, but said it was just a way to remove spammers from the site…Then the whole thing started to get out of hand: Rafians were taking sides, hurtful words were exchanged…It was all a sad mess. Adam and Russell were popular with the RAFians. When Adam decided to take things into his own hands, some of the newer members thought he had the right idea…
While Adam was never banned for his actions, his involvement on the forums has diminished over the years. But the events that occurred following the creation of the RAF Secret Police were a lesson to be learned by the moderators. What happened with Adam could not be repeated, and the moderators worked twice as hard to make sure that each member of RAF felt at home, and no further uprisings took place.
Our story takes place sometime after the Christmas season, a little while after a user named TobiasMasonPark set up his account on RAF…
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A non-Place little know about.
Sounds good so far!!! :D
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I totally love the opener, it Sounds amazing buddy. I can't wait till we dive into the meat of the story! :thumbsup2:
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Alright, Chapter 1. This is where the Moderators discuss the possibility of another uprising. They mention the failed RP that I made in April. Now, I wanted to send this to the mods that feature in this chapter before posting, but I don't think I actually sent the message...And I couldn't figure out how to send attachments...And I didn't wanna bother them...
Main point is...If I got Goom, or Phoenix, or Estrid, or Teach's Characters wrong in this chapter, I apologize. Just PM me and I'll edit it to something closer that you would say.
Thanks to RAFRukh and Unknown User for their feedback.
“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”
-Niccolo Machiavelli.
Meeting of the Mods…
(1)
From what my sources tell me, sometime in the last week of April, roughly five months after the RAFian in question acquired his account, the Moderators of RAF gathered on their own private chat room to discuss a new thread that had been posed on the General Role Playing section of the website. Now, there are five staff members on RAF to date, one of whom—the founder of the forum—was absent at the time the meeting was held; so we do not have his immediate reaction on record. For now, we have to make do with the discussion that took place on the private chat room that night:
[21:21:13] Terenia: Is everyone here?
[21:22:01] Goom: Still waiting on Mike…Time difference and everything.
[21:24:14] Mike: Sorry I’m late guys. What’s up? :S
[21:24:30] Terenia: http://animorphsforum.com/index.php?topic=7890.0 (http://animorphsforum.com/index.php?topic=7890.0)
[21:30:45] Terenia: That’s what’s up!
[25:45:01] Mike: Hmm….
[25:45:20] Goom: It doesn’t seem like such a big deal, really.
[25:46:16] Terenia: Well, I disagree.
[25:46:25] Terenia: It looks like a huge deal to me.
[25:46:30] Terenia: Unless I’m the only one who recalls the RAFcops incident.
[25:47:22] Estrid: *groans* Ugggh. RAFcops.
[25:50:33] Mike: Teach makes a valid point. But I personally don’t see much of a threat either.
[26:51:01] Goom: Looks like it’s just another RP. Probably won’t go anywhere.
[26:51:30] Mike: Exactly.
[26:52:12] Estrid: Well…
[26:52:20] Terenia: Well what?
[26:52:35] Estrid: Well, we didn’t think much would come from RAFcops, and look what happened with that.
[26:52:40] Terenia: My point exactly!
[26:52:45] Terenia: Are we just going to take this lightly?
[26:54:01] Goom: I know this guy. He seems to be innocent enough. There’s nothing he’s posted that was offensive, or vulgar, or anything that goes against our rules here.
[27:44:22] Mike: He’s seems like an alright guy. And, look, he’s just posted that message with the huge font :P
[27:45:01] Terenia: That was edited.
[27:45:15] He was talking to a RAFian on RAFchat, and they mentioned RAFcops.
[27:45:30] Mike: Which one?
[27:45:35] Terenia: Blue. Why?
[27:45:50] Mike: *shrugs* No reason. Just wondering.
[27:46:00] Goom: Teach, if you’re really worried about this, then I’ll keep a look out. But I honestly think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. We could put it to a vote, but I don’t see any reason to take any drastic actions. Chances are, the RP won’t see any action and TMP will go back to writing his little posts on The Things…Thread.
[27:46:30] Mike: Yea. No reason to bother Richard.
[27:46:35] Estrid: Agreed.
[27:47:22] Goom: Teach?
[27:47:40]: Terenia: *sighs* Whatever you say, Goom.
After the wars, the Moderators of RAF did not wish to speak of the harsh events that had taken place, nor the consequences of the actions of all parties involved. It was a sad state of affairs that, in actuality, didn’t last very long. But to pretend that the wars never happened would be an insult to those who were involved, and those who were unlucky enough to have been caught in the crossfire between Mod and Rebel.
And that is why I have worked very hard these many months, gathering information from just about every RAFian that knew about what would later be referred to as the RAF Civil War. For most of our story, we shall hear from TobiasMasonPark—later known by many as “Goose”—but we shall also hear from some other RAFians that were more than happy to provide their own insight on the events that take place.
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It reminds me of WWZ. It has that reporting style to it. Some things about the way the story is narrated could be a little clearer, and the flow of the story seems a little jerky at points, but all in all, I'm still enjoying it.
(and yes, I intend to bother you here after every post. Sue me. 8) )
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Ha! Thanks again for the feeback, buddy.
What's WWZ?
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World War Z! A book about a Zombie apocalypse that is narrated similarly to your own story. I enjoyed it.
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I should read that book, Tony, because I am thoroughly enjoying this! :D It has a nice feel of suspense to it as we're building towards the actual revolution. Carry on!
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World War Z! A book about a Zombie apocalypse that is narrated similarly to your own story. I enjoyed it.
HA! My cousin said that's what it stood for, but we just thought he was being stupid... :XD: Guess he was right.
Anyways, thanks a lot, Seal, and everyone else who's enjoying this. I am reading your story, Seal--Revenge of the Banned-- just to make sure I don't end up writing the exact same thing, and must say that you are very talented. I am enjoying yours, too.
This next chapter is dedicated to my pal J, who left RAF. It also features Unknown User, J and Pokey as the first revolutionaries. If anyone else wants in, just give me a shout.
Here's chapter 2.
"It must be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to plan, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to manage than a new system. For the initiator has the enmity of all who would profit by the preservation of the old institution and merely lukewarm defenders in those who gain by the new ones. "
-Niccolo Machiavelli.
Goose
(2)
The meeting was to be held in a small resort in Niagara Falls, as TobiasMasonPark—or Goose, as he will henceforth be referred—believed that it was the half-way point for RAFians to meet. He forgot that RAFians hail from all corners of the planet—mostly in Houston, but also in places like Ghana, Australia and England. So many a RAFian was very upset when they discovered that they would be travelling hundreds of miles to Niagara falls to discuss something that could very well get them banned from the forum they knew and loved. Few had shown up, and already it seemed as though Goose’s uprising would end before it began. Records state that Goose had been sitting in the hotel lobby, on an armchair by the front desk. Unknown User, who was on good terms with Goose before and during the civil war, was the first to enter the resort. He was followed moments afterward by a RAFian named J.
“Do you see him?” J asked, setting down his only bag and looking about the lobby. “There are quite a few people around.”
Unknown User craned his neck and stood on the balls of his feet, searching for his friend. “I’ve seen pictures of him on the net. Look for a scrawny sort of kid with dark hair.”
J looked at Unknown User with eyebrows raised. “How am I supposed to tell him apart from the other scrawny kids with dark hair?”
“I think that might be him over there?” said a new voice, with an Australian accent. “At least, that’s how he looked when I last saw him.”
Unknown User looked over at the boy sitting on the armchair by the front desk, looking as though he hadn’t seen his fellow RAFians. As the two were friends on Facebook, Unknown User was more than sure that this boy was TobiasMasonPark—his loosey goosey friend. So, nudging Pokey—the Australian newcomer—and Josh—the mysterious RAFian from Ghana—he waved over at the boy, and shouted: “Hey! Goose! Over here!”
Several people passing by turned to stare at the very loud young man. Unknown User simply ignored their gawking and walked over to the front desk to greet his friend and fellow revolutionary. J and Pokey followed suit.
The boy in the chair, now aware that some of his rebel RAFians had arrived, nervously got to his feet and managed a small smile. “Hey, everyone. You all have a safe flight over?”
His fellow RAF Rebels nodded, despite wanting to express their distain at having to pay for their own means of travel. So, casually, Unknown User asked, “When do we start?”
Goose looked at the grandfather clock placed in the center of the foyer—right behind the front desk and its manager, Monty—and said, “We’ll wait for the others to arrive; then we’ll start.”
J nodded. Pokey took a seat in one of the armchairs placed in the foyer. Unknown User grinned and said, “Alright. I guess I’ll be the first one to say it then…LET’S DO IT!”
And do it they did…
For neither one of them—not mysterious J, from Ghana, or the excitable Unknown User, or Pokey from Australia, or even the Goose himself—really knew the repercussions of their actions. In fact, just before the war ended, Unknown User was quoted as saying: “Had I known how far Goose was willing to go [in the end] I don’t think any of us would have gone through with what we did…”
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Wow, this is just great! Good work!
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Looks real good so far dude. I'm really looking forward to this.
HAIL TO THE EMPEROR!!!
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Alright, my friends, thanks for the feedback! Here's chapter three.
Unknown User, Pokey, J, RAFRukh, Squall, and Aquilai feature and speak in this chapter. Special thanks goes to them, because I don't think I asked permission from all of them :P
Please, remember, I am not planning a real revolution. Any or all ideas expressed in this story are not, in any way, expressed by myself in real life. I argue against revolting against RAF, because the mods deserve more respect than that. They have done a better job than any of us, and I appreciate their hard work and understanding. Remember that this is fiction.
“He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.”
-Niccolo Machiavelli.
Meeting of the Rebels
(3)
It is on record that TobiasMasonPark has always been a shy and timid young man. He was never an outspoken man; speaking only if the situation called for it. His opinions were hardly ever expressed, as he feared that doing so would spark an argument with whomever he was speaking. Truly, it was only after joining Richards Animorph’s Forum that the future Emperor Goose I learned to speak his mind without fear of offending the person he was speaking to, or looking like a fool. Indeed, RAF was his outlet.
“James McKinnon…He was an odd sort of kid,” claimed one Jonathan Dash, fellow classmate of TobiasMasonPark. “Nice enough but quiet. I don’t think we spoke much the entire time I knew him—which was back in ninth grade, when we sat next to each other in homeroom. If you asked anyone today, they probably wouldn’t know who you meant when you asked them who James McKinnon was. Teachers…maybe. But he wasn’t very social…”
This begs the question of why a boy--reputed to be timid and shy-- would want to lead a revolution against the people (the moderators of RAF) that had shown him such kindness, and who treated him as a friend? And how could someone who hadn’t said more than a sentence per day throughout four years of High School manage to lead one of the most frightening, if not least noted, of all revolutions to date? Surely, this is a question that provides few, if any, answers. For this strange behaviour is a drastic change in character for the Goose.
However, the boy who would eventually lead the rebels in the RAF Revolution was not totally unrecognizable when he called for the first meeting of revolutionaries at the meeting hall at the Lodge Resort in Niagara Falls.
“I sat way in the back,” says a revolutionary named Caleb. “I could hardly hear what the kid was saying…He had a mic, too! Most of the time, he had his buddies speak for him, just to save face. But it was sloppy. The meeting was poorly planned, and you could tell that he didn’t think anyone aside from his friends would show up.”
It has been reported that plenty of RAFians showed up at the meeting hall that day. One future rebel claimed that the entire hall was filled with revolutionaries; others are less passionate in their claims and state that “a reasonable number of people showed up.” But the precise estimate of rebels that attended the first revolutionary meeting in RAF History is irrelevant. What’s really noteworthy is how nervous TobiasMasonPark had been when he stepped up to the podium that morning.
The following is an excerpt taken from the war journal of TobiasMasonPark; a personal recount of the first meeting of revolutionaries:
The first of the revolutionaries arrived sometime after noon, today on the 1st of August, 2011. I had put off planning a meeting to discuss my plans for a RAF Revolution for far too long. It was time to take action. It was time to gather my fellow RAFians and begin to plot our takeover of Richards Animorph’s Forum. It was not going to be easy, that was clear. But I knew that I would have my faithful generals to back me up through and through. Of all the RAFians on the forums, these three alone were the ones I could trust.
After Tony, Pokey and J arrived at the Lodge Resort we made our way over to the meeting hall. For the next hour we waited, and watched as the first of our revolutionaries began to arrive and take their seats in the spacious meeting hall. By the end of that hour I found myself growing increasingly nervous. I hadn’t expected nearly this many people to show up! I mean, there weren’t nearly as many participants to crowd the entire hall, but enough showed up so that most of the seats were full. I guess Tony and the others could tell I was nervous. They assured me that I would do great, and that the rebels would follow me with blind faith.
By 2:00 pm, it was time for me to take my place at the podium. I got to my feet and strode over to the medium-sized wood box place at center stage. I looked up to see hundreds upon hundreds of strange faces—a mixture of males and females, men and women, children and adolescent…all and all, people I had never seen or spoken to prior to the meeting—staring up at me with intent. They watched me and waited for me to begin what they believed to be a thrilling speech.
Oh, what a fool I had been! What kind of moron was I? What sort of revolutionary leader, supposedly bent on conquest, forgets to write a speech to rally his troops? What sort of fool would blindly follow such a person, so unprepared?
Me…I was that fool. I was dumb enough to have people I never met fly over to Canada, pay for their own rooms at an expensive resort, and not even write a speech to assure them that I knew what I was talking about…
So, I did was all the other revolutionary leaders never did at any of their historical rallies…I stared back at my followers.
Normally, a historian wouldn’t take note of the meeting that took place that day…But, should a historian choose to write a biography about the RAF Wars, then they should note how much I was sweating up at that podium…The headlights blaring down on me, cooking me like some sort of food…The not-so-eager faces of my fellow RAFians looking up at me, making me too nervous to think of a good simile to explain how I was feeling right at that moment…It was so quiet, right at that moment, that I could hear someone coughing all the way at the back of the hall…
Unknown RAFian: Hurry up and say something!
I laughed nervously into the microphone… “Ha…Um…” I managed. “Right…Let’s begin.”
I took a deep breath…
And then another…
And then another…
Soon enough, I had successfully perfected my impression of someone having an asthma attack.
Another Unknown RAFian: “You don’t even have a speech, do you?”
Third Unknown RAFian: “You made me come all the way here from Iowa, make me pay for my own room, and don’t have anything else to say but ‘um…yea…um?’ What kind of leader are you, anyway?”
This last voice was much closer to the stage—a masculine voice seated somewhere in the first couple of rows. But all the light was focused on the stage—focused on me! It was too dark to see anyone further than the first row. The mystery of this man’s identity made me feel more nervous, if anything. I was thinking that I should just shut up and have Tony or Pokey or J tell them all to go home.
But Tony had something else in mind.
“Hey, dipwad,” Unknown User said, shoving me to the side and grabbing hold of the microphone. “You don’t see us flying down to Iowa and tell you how to comb your hair, do we? So why don’t you just quit complaining and respect the guy trying to speak?”
The RAFian who spoke earlier shouted back: “I would if he’d just think of something to say.”
“Then why don’t you come up here and try,” Unknown User offered. “No, seriously. Walk up onto the stage and try and come up with your own speech. You do that, and we’ll follow you, instead of Goose.”
Tony waited for the unknown RAFian to step up. He didn’t.
Tony then took me aside and whispered, “Come on, Loosey, Goosey, you can do this.”
I shook my head at him. “No, Tony, I can’t. I suck at talking to people.”
“Just…I don’t know. Why don’t you try imagining them in their underwear?”
“I’d really rather not.” I said. “Why don’t we call it a night…Have these people come back tomorrow?”
I could tell, just from the look Tony gave me, that that idea wasn’t going to fly. “Is that what Napoleon would do?”
I forced a laugh, “He might have. Who really knows how those things really went down.”
And Tony did something I didn’t expect him to do…Even from Tony. He slapped me across the side of the head.
“Listen, Goose, wise up. This is your show.” He snapped. “This was your idea. You want to overthrow Richard and the mods, not any of these people. You wanted a revolution, Goosey. Now you have the chance to win these people over.”
Tony paused, and then said: “You aren’t your past, Goose. Nobody is. So forget about the crap that went down in High School. That stuff’s done with. Time to move forward. Time to be a man.”
I sighed. Tony wouldn’t have said any of that stuff if he really didn’t mean it. I looked back at J and Pokey, sitting right behind me. Then I turned to the crowd in front of us.
It was time to be a man. I walked up to the podium, gently pushing my second-in-command aside.
I grabbed the microphone.
“You, kid from Iowa, what’s your name?” I demanded.
“You can call me Squall!” He shouted back.
“What can you tell me about War, Squall?”
For a moment, he said nothing. After half a minute, he said: “What do you want to know?”
“I want you to tell me why you’re here, Squall.” I replied. “You say you came here to listen to some speech. Fine. You’ll get a speech. But I want to know why you are here today.”
Squall hesitated before speaking. “I think I came here to listen to you talk about a revolution. Isn’t that why we all came?”
There was a healthy murmur that came from the crowd. This seemed to give Squall some confidence. “I’m not the speaker here, buddy. I’m just one of one hundred people who came to Niagara Falls to listen to you talk about a revolution. That’s all you wrote in your little email.”
Some people in the crowd laughed. Others started clapping. I found myself wondering what all this meant to Squall.
“Control the crowd, Goose.” Tony whispered to me. “Don’t take insolence.”
I took another breath. “Do you consider yourself to be intelligent, Squall?”
He laughed. “Sure I do.”
I grinned. “Really? How many smart people fly over to Niagara Falls to listen to someone they met on some website ramble on about a revolution?”
“Are you calling me stupid?” He shouted at me.
“Yes.” I replied. “I am. Because you come here, naïve and eager, to listen to me talk about war, because you want war. You want to be a soldier. You want to kill. You’re entering this war for all the wrong reasons. You could be following a madman, but it wouldn’t matter to you, just as long as you get to shoot a gun. Do you know what happens to gun-happy zealots who join the war?”
I made a slicing motion with my index finger, moving it along my neck. “Stupid soldiers die in war. They’re the first ones to get cut down when they leave the front lines, because they’re too eager to kill.”
“So what are you fighting for, then?” someone shouted from further back in the crowd. “Who am I speaking to?” I barked back.
“They call me Aquilai on the forums.” The young man shouted back. “I’ve banned you plenty of times in the ‘banning game’ thread.”
“Right.” I said. “What do I fight for? Same as anyone. I want power.”
Another doubtful murmur from the crowd.
“I fight because I love RAF.” I clarified. “I fight because RAF is home to me. RAF has treated me right. I fight because there are problems with RAF. RAF is not perfect. Just like our parents aren’t perfect. Just like how our employers and co-workers aren’t perfect. Our teachers; our politicians; our lawyers…Good people, this is true. But flawed. We cannot have perfection with the moderators in charge. We cannot make RAF the…” I struggled for a word.
Tony whispered to me, “Utopia, Goose. The word you’re looking for is Utopia.”
I nodded slightly. “Utopia. We cannot make RAF the Utopia it was destined to be with the mods in charge. As good a job as they have done in the past, as friendly and intelligent as the mods may be, RAF suffers. It suffers because it is run by man. Not men…But man. Man—both male and female—is flawed, emotional, and bases their decisions on what they are currently feeling. They have biases and opinions that differ from everyone else’s. Once again, we are fooled into thinking we have a democracy. But really we have our own Council of Thirteen.”
And that’s when the crowd surprised me with murmurs of agreement. I could see a couple of people in the first row nodding in agreement.
“How often have you posted something on the forums only to have a moderator tell you that it was in the wrong place, or inappropriate, or repetitive? How many of our fellows have been banned, never to be seen again, because they happened to piss off one of the mods? We do not have a democracy. You people do not have a voice. I am here to fight for RAF. I fight for you, Squall; and for you, Aquilai; and for all of the lurkers, trolls, banned ones and newcomers to the website. I fight so you may have a voice.”
“So who will be in charge?” a loud, female voice shouted.
“In charge?” I repeated. “RAF will be in charge. There will be no notion of a moderator. Instead, we’ll have our best men working on a system to run the website. All the technical stuff—locking and deleting threads—will be run by computers. We will obliterate the notion of ranks amongst fellow RAFians. All will be equal. All will be the same!”
“You want us to be freaking communists!” Someone shouted. “That’s what you want!”
“I want what you want, brother RAFian.” I retorted. “Respect. Democracy. Fairness.”
“No. You want power!” Another voice in the shadows.
“Of course.” I said. “It is my flaw as man. I am flawed by my desire for power. This is what I wish to fix: the idea of rank and power on RAF—a website that is supposed to promote equality, acceptance and understanding.”
“The moderators are doing a good job!” someone cried out.
“Down with the mods!” another rebel shouted.
“He’s a freaking communist!”
“Shut up and go back to America!”
“Acceptance! Equality! Understanding!”
“Viva La Revolution!”
“You’re out of control! He’s out of control!”
“He’s mad! Someone call the cops!”
“Acceptance! Equality! Understanding!”
“Down with mods! Down with mods!”
“You people are f**ked!”
The back doors swung open. I could see people dressed in dark colours exit into the brightly lit hallways of the Lodge Resort. There were only a few of them; five or six, no more. When the doors finally closed the meeting hall was filled with the cries and cheers of eager revolutionaries.
“People of RAF, I have envisioned a new, new RAF.” I shouted into the mic. “You have listened to my speech. I do not lust for war. I do not want the mods to be harmed. No. I do not wish for any RAFians to be harmed. We shall act in the most humane ways during this revolution. Do not let the mods’ people disillusion you from the cause—“
My voice was drowned out by the crowd’s declaration of down with mods!
“We are not asking for a war. That is clear.” I roared. “They do not understand. We are simply giving a voice to those without a voice. We are not trying to force our opinions onto those whose opinions differ from our own. Do not forget that the Rafians are our friends—our brothers and sisters! Even the mods—“
“DOWN WITH MODS!” they chanted.
“—Good people…But the reign of the moderators must end—“
“DOWN WITH MODS!” They cried, pumping their fists into the air.
“You are ready. You have all made that clear. The revolution will come soon. I leave you all to enjoy your stay here. Rest tonight. For tomorrow, we begin plotting our glorious revolution. Thank you.”
I turned away from the podium, all the while listening to a mixture of ”Down with Mods!"and “Acceptance, Equality, and Understanding!” blaring from the crowd. Looking back now, it’s hard to believe that any of those words had been my own.
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Every chapter has been better than the last! I'm really fond of that Tony character ^-^. Things are starting to get awesome!
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Nice so far dude. I hope I get to be more verbal later :P
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At a relatives house, so this isn't a chapter update.
But, with minimal help from loyal follower King Hyrule (Coloured in the crown...way down there) I was able to draw up this little doodle.
I have no idea what those human-looking drawing are...I guess I got a little creative.
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But I dont have enough money to fly to canada!
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Haha :P Sorry blaze. I ran out of names. I guess Revolutions aren't as popular as they used to be.
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Hey Blaze I didn't have enough money to fly to Canada either so I went with Plan B. I walked to the nearest truck stop and hitched hiked with trukers. I rode a total of ten semi's to get to Niagra Falls, my back is killing me, I have some SERIOUS time-lag, and it took me 5 whole days to get to Niagra Falls cause truckers can only drive 10 hours a day.
So if I can go through all of that without spending much more than about 20 bucks (99 cent fast food) then so can you.
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Alright, been a bit of a wait for this one, eh? Sorry, I had writer's block. This chapter features Seal, Donut, Jess, Bear, and Rad. I only had the permission of Seal and Rad, so I hope everyone else won't mind.
“One change always leaves the way open for the establishment of others”
--Niccolo Machiavelli
Fact or fabrication
(4)
Recording past events is a daunting task for any historian; especially when the links to the past are so few and far in between. While it can be agreed upon that Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated by Arthur Wellesley, the duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, and that Marie Antoinette was imprisoned and later decapitated on the 16th of October, and that Adolf Hitler’s hatred towards the Jews stemmed from an ailment his mother suffered, historians lack the evidence required to make certain events in history fact. For example, we do not know, precisely, how the Greeks knew that the Persians fed their cattle at the exact same time every morning before the battle of marathon. Nor can we say how Louis XIV managed to escape from his home in Versailles, mere moments before an angry mob broke into his palace, searching for their corrupt king. And can we truly say, with the utmost certainty—with little available evidence—that Adam and Eve were the first humans created by God?
History, like any other topic to be studied on earth, has its own drawbacks; particularly where evidence is concerned. We cannot say how the cavemen came to create art, or how the wheel was constructed; we just know that those events did, in fact, occur. Because the people of the past rarely recorded the events that occurred in their own time—with exceptions of those few instances where a somewhat biased account of wars and invasions were published—all us historians have to go on today are speculations. We assume that the Greeks had spies amongst the Persian ranks. We assume that Louis XIV was able to pass off as a common peasant boy, who happened to live near the palace at Versailles. And, we Christian folk believe Adam and Eve were the first people created by God, simply because it is written in the bible.
I cannot, in all honesty, tell you how the moderators knew about the first meeting of revolutionaries that August afternoon. I can only make speculations. And while there may be validity to these speculations, I cannot ask you to take my word as fact. All we have to go on at the moment is a sentence uttered by the future general Squall--famous for committing the most atrocities in the RAF Civil War—and that is this: “I’m just one of one hundred people who came to Niagara Falls to listen to you talk about a revolution. That’s all you wrote in your little email.”
There is only one thing that can be taken from this: an email was sent to all the RAFians in attendance at the first meeting at the Lodge Resort. Was this meeting sent via personal email belonging to the revolutionary leader and his staff—an email that hadn’t been registered on the RAF website? Or did TobiasMasonPark simply add every lurker, newbie, and Rafian to the BBC list directly from Richards Animorphs Forum? And were the spies who attended the meeting that day really spies, and not simply RAFians who were disillusioned from revolting after listening to the words of a man that many considered to be mentally unhinged?
This last bit could go either way. It’s more than likely that the moderators took Terenia’s warning into account after finding TobiasMasonPark’s first post on the General RP thread. But it is just as likely that the moderators were warned after the meeting had been adjourned.
It would put the future Emperor in a bad light if we wrote off the revolution as a mistake made by TobiasMasonPark. Such a thing would be the action of a fool, and not a man who committed so many war crimes during the course of this brutal revolution. For now, we shall assume that TobiasMasonPark sent the email from a personal account, and hadn’t foreseen the possibility that it had been sent to a RAFian loyal to the moderators.
We do, however, have an eye witness account of the meeting called by the moderators and their subjects twenty-four hours after the meeting of revolutionaries had been adjourned. Many RAFians kept war journals during the revolution. We hear different accounts from different witnesses on both sides of the field, as well as those who wished to stay neutral. It is hard to decide which is factual and which was fabricated by the author. In this chapter, we hear from a young soldier named Seal. Like many involved, Seal had no business being in the war. However, being loyal to the moderators of RAF, she joined her fellows—namely Shalner, Donut, Bear, and Rad—in the fight against the future Emperor’s revolution. She writes:
It rained the day after Goose spoke at that resort in Niagara Falls. But it seemed like much longer when the rest of us made our way back to Headquarters to speak with the mods. Donut made the call. Donut always makes the call. Out of all of us, he knows the most about this sort of thing. We’ve had arguments amongst other RAFians in the past. There was that dispute between Adam and Russell a long while back—a major disaster if there was any. And we’ve had issues with banned RAFians before. In fact, it was because of all the disputes caused by all sorts of RAFians that the moderators built the Headquarters in the first place.
But we’ve never had a revolution. RAFcops was close, but I doubt if Adam had it in him to unleash a full out war on all of RAF. The moderators knew Adam. People liked Adam. There was a time when Russell and Adam were friends. Sure, they weren’t the type to swing an arm over the other’s shoulders, or go bike riding together, or anything like that. But they respected each other…before RAFcops, at least. I mean, Adam wasn’t crazy. Power hungry, overly-emotional, and maybe a little envious, sure. But not crazy.
I didn’t know Goose. He was new to RAF. But his posts didn’t suggest that he was unhinged or anything. But a lot of us seemed to like him, or tolerate him. And he was friendly, polite and accepting of everyone on RAF. I definitely didn’t think he was the type to resort to revolting against the mods. I wonder if Bear or Rad or Donut knew he had it in him.
We didn’t stay at the resort. Donut made it clear that we had to call the mods as soon as possible.
“They need to know,” Donut said, walking through the lobby with the rest of us in tow. “We can’t let this wait another second.
Donut took out a small, rectangular device—a cell phone. We were outside the resort, near a nice swimming pool where mothers were playing with their children, and teenagers were sunbathing in bikinis and swimsuits. I’d have liked to stay here, too, had the circumstances been different. Bear, Rad, Shalner and I waited in the parking lot. Donut was listening to the dial tone on his phone. After a few rings, there was no answer. He swore, just loud enough for us to hear.
“Who’d you try?” Bear asked.
“Goom. There wasn’t answer.” Donut muttered. “I’ll try Jessi.”
Donut made the call. There was an answer. He didn’t make small talk with her; he jumped right in with the problem at hand.
“We’ve got an issue here in Niagara, Teach.” He said into the phone.
A short pause. We couldn’t hear Terenia from where we were standing.
“We were apparently invited by TobiasMasonPark,” Donut said, with a hint of distain in his voice. “Apparently, this guy has it in his head that RAF no longer needs the mods. He’s gathered a bunch of n00bs and lurkers for a revolution.” Another pause; longer than the first. “No, I think he’s serious. That Squall guy’s here, too. And Blaze. And just about anyone else that’s posted on RAF at some point.”
For a long time, Donut didn’t have to speak. He just kept mumbling and nodding to whatever Terenia had to say on her end. He never let go of this intent look in his eyes. It was that focused look that people get when they’re solving a problem—I guess that’s what this was. Maybe it was the soldier in him. Like I said, of all of us, Donut had the most experience. Maybe Bear or Rad. Definitely not Shalner or myself.
I was surprised that Donut didn’t sound the least bit worried. The entire time he sounded casual. He didn’t freak, or start cursing, or shout at just about anything that moved. He saw a problem in his way and wanted to deal with it in his own way. Donut wasn’t one to just freak out. He’s actually pretty logical. Calm. Cool. Calculating. The sort of guy who knows that he needs to do whatever has to be done to prevent mass panic. A soldier’s soldier. A general.
In short, what TobiasMasonPark was hoping he’d find today at that meeting.
After his call to Terenia, and another to Estrid, and one more call to Goom, Donut was ready to fill us in.
“I’m going to book a flight to Houston as soon as possible. We’re going to meet with everybody at Headquarters to deal with this problem. Anyone who wants to pack up and go home, feel free. The mods want me there to give them a full recount of the meeting. Rad,” Donut said. “I’d like for you to come with me. But, if not, I’d understand.”
“I go where you go.” Rad said. I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of movement suggesting that what we all thought was true: Rad and Donut were…a thing. But Rad kept herself reserved, professional. She was acting like a soldier under Lieutenant Donut’s command. And maybe that’s all it was.
“I’m comin’ too.” Bear said. “A good Texan never goes home when a fight’s callin’.”
“We don’t know if this will lead to a fight.” Shalner said. “It might not even get off the ground. I mean, what are a bunch of newbies going to do? And Goose? Goose doesn’t have it in him. But…I don’t think we’re in a position to take a chance. I’m coming too.”
They all looked at me, the youngest of the group. I guess they wanted to make it clear that I was an equal in all of this. But they still couldn’t deny the fact that I was only fourteen. Should any of this lead to something like a war, my fate would rest on their conscience. Because they let a fourteen year old run into battle with a gun.
“Well, what are we standing around here for?” I said, shrugging off any doubts or guilt my friends felt. “Let’s do this.”
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har har an animorphs quote. How obscure. Anyway I love the Machiavelli quotes
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I bow to the great Emperor. I love this story so far and can't wait to start committing atrocities. :P
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Great Chapter! I love how you made it from seals point of view. Much more... relate-able than from the leaders point of view. Nice Job!
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Yay! Me! :D
I love it so far! Do keep in mind that of all of those people--other than Shalner (who I'm pretty sure is Jess, right?) I'm the oldest person in the group RAFwise. :P I'm weird like that. But it's true--Donut does have the military leadership needed. *shuts up*
Can't wait for more!
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Great Stuff yet again! Can't wait forthe next passage!
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god, i hate when this happens. i've been sucked into an incomplete story. curse you shawn! but i'm hooked cuz it's just that good
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Aw don't worry ko ko. Someday you will thank me for getting you involved in the RAFolution. ;D
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ya, i'll be rolling in the dough and sitting on my own private mountain range after all the deliveries. like seal said, who's gonna give a 14 year old a gun?
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Well you can have a rocket launcher. How does that sound? :P
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Psh...I've got a hyperplasma rectifier. I pwn u allz.
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Two words man. Death. Star.
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i can get that for you
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Already got one. Although for copyright reasons I had to call it the kill sphere
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I got no problem wit dat. My ship can take the turbolasers of 6 Death Star volleys with barely a scratch in it's shields. Lasers are SO last decade.
OFF TOPIC
How's the next chapter coming? :P
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Houston Landing
(5)
The following is an excerpt from the War Journal of the RAFian known as Seal, describing the events that took place at the mod Headquarters in Houston, Texas.
I like plane rides. They’re neat. Ever since I was a kid I was fascinated by how the managed to stay up in the air, just like real birds. Things like that made me appreciate mankind’s technological capabilities. And I never could understand those people with a phobia of planes. I mean, really, what was there to be scared of? You were more likely to die in a car crash than you were a plane crash, so what was the big deal? Besides, flying was an adventure. It was the closest thing a lot of people would ever get to the real thing.
A lot of people. RAFians aren’t a lot of people.
We managed to book seats on the next flight to Houston at an airport outside Niagara Falls. Jess figured we caught a lucky break, but I think somewhere in the back of our minds we all knew that the mods had something to do with it. That’s the thing about us RAFians: we don’t look like much, but we have some influence in this world of ours. I guess air traffic control was just one of those things.
We waited for about five hours before boarding the plane. We made attempts at conversation, but we always ended up twiddling our thumbs in silence. Bear and I sat across from Donut and a sleeping Rad—resting her head on her hand—while Jess looked out the window at the planes. I hadn’t brought much with me—just my diary and a pen along with a change of clothing—and so I kept myself entertained by watching Bear work on a crossword. Admittedly, he wasn’t very good.
Eventually a woman called over the P.A system, announcing that the 6:00 flight to Houston was preparing for flight. The group of us looked at each other for a moment before making our way to the terminal, where a pretty woman, probably in her mid-twenties, took tickets.
RAF didn’t have so much influence as to get us business class seats. We only managed to get seats with the ordinary folks. I didn’t mind. I was just glad we all got seats together. I mean, I would have been fine if we hadn’t. I just prefer sitting with familiar faces; especially given the current circumstances. I sat in between Jess and Bear, and two seats down from Donut and Rad. Donut had this faraway look in his eye—the soldier’s stare. I guess he was thinking about what he’d tell the mods. This wouldn’t be a casual visit; this would be a congress, like Vienna, or Versailles. We would be discussing the possibility of war. That was something nobody wanted to think about. But somebody had to. I was just glad it wasn’t me.
The plane landed three hours later in Houston. Customs was a pain, but we all got through it without any trouble. Donut rented a car, paid for with a credit card, and we made the hour long trip to mod Headquarters.
I had to admit, I was pretty psyched, all things considering. I had never been to the Headquarters before; none of us, save for Donut, have ever been there. To be honest before now there had been little reason to ever go to Headquarters. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for an ordinary RAFian to see all of the moderators in the same room at the same time. And they would be there in the flesh, too; not just present via hologram like Donut said happened at ordinary meetings.
Well, maybe Richard wouldn’t be there. Richard was far too important to be there in the flesh.
The Headquarters was kept a secret from the public eye. The only way to get to the place was through a tunnel, and that tunnel was accessible through an everyday parking garage. I’m not allowed to say when or where; it would be far too dangerous.
We parked the van between a cherry red SUV and a silver Mercedes. Our plain green rent-a-car looked pretty pathetic by comparison. I almost felt sorry for it, having to sit between those two models. Jess said more or less the same thing:
“Jeez, Donut. Why couldn’t you spring for something fancier?”
“I’m sorry, Jess,” he mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Next time you can pay for the car and I’ll be the one to critique the model.”
We got out of the van and made our way towards one of the parking lot exits. Behind those doors lay a set of staircases—one going up and one going down. According to the sign the upper floor had the entrance to a mall and some small business offices; the bottom floor had the restroom.
We went downstairs.
There were three bathroom doors: one family restroom, and the conventional male and female. The female restroom was apparently out of service.
“Gentlemen, close your eyes.” Rad joked before entering the female restroom. We followed her inside.
It was an average sized restroom. There was water on the floor to give the impression that the restroom was undergoing maintenance. This was false. There were six stalls, and none of the six toilets inside the stalls was operational to begin with. Nothing in that restroom would work. Nothing but a single faucet that would open the entrance to the mod Headquarters.
Donut turned the faucet of the middle sink. It functioned like a lock: two turns left, one turn right, half a turn left. He paused, having turned the faucet the right way. We waited for the entrance to reveal itself. Nothing happened.
“Maybe you made a mistake.” Bear suggested.
“No. This is supposed to happen.” Donut said. “Just keep looking at the mirror.”
We all did as we were told and looked at our reflections in the mirror. And before long an infrared beam was scanning our faces, just like in those spy movies, but without the automated voice saying “visual identification recognized. Welcome to RAF.” Instead, the sinks sunk into the restroom floor, and the wall opened up to reveal the secret passageway to the Headquarters.
“Quickly,” Donut instructed. “Before it seals itself.”
We followed him, one by one, into the dark hallway. I was last in line after Bear. Behind me, the passageway sealed itself.
For a moment we stood in complete darkness.
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Glad this is back
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Nice one buddy. Glad you didn't decide to kill someone on the first chapter back. :P We need some time to re-buckle our seat belts. :P
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Sweetness! It has finally returned. Thanks so much dude.