"COME BACK!!!"

Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

"COME BACK!!!"

"COME BACK!!!" You cry tearfully as the dog wrenches his leash out of your hands. "COME BACK!!!" You yell again, soon realizing it's futile to yell any longer. That was your friend's uncle's friend's daughter's dog, and she had entrusted you complete care of him. You'd better start looking for him, then. As you call through the streets, you see a brown streak cross the road and head right for you! It's Marty! Except... what's that in his mouth?! It's the neighbor's cat! No, wait, it's just a cat-shaped note. Grabbing it, you unfurl it to see that it says,

Hello, person! You have been selected to come to our private farm for a relaxing, looong getaway from home. Don't bother signing in, just show up! Max visitors is 24; we'll close the gates when the quota is met. Pack your CAPTCHAs and AEs; we don't want to be bored, now do we? Just pack a few items, and your dog will show you the way! 

                Signed,

               Abigail V., Vacation Manager of the Resort Farm

P.S. We aren't responsible for any deaths, injuries, ect.

----------------------------------------------------

Uh-oh. You've heard of these before. Do you want to risk it? It certainly sounds relaxing, so it may be worth it... 

-----------------------

 

submitted by Farmer's Assistant, The Resort Farm
(November 30, 2015 - 8:36 am)

back to the Pudding's Place

TOP!!

submitted by hotairballoon
(May 6, 2016 - 5:40 am)

Ah, here we are. The next chapter. Enjoy!

---------------------- 

Fifteen minutes later, the CBers looked at the training arena, and immediately wanted to turn back around. They saw old-fashioned wood dummies, strange weapons, and--worst of all, in Princess Icicle's opinion--weights. But that wasn't all.

As they looked past the farmer's assistant, who'd led them there, they saw that the entire backyard had been transformed into a heavy-duty training facility. 

The right side had a chalk line drawn through the grass. 

The faraway backest of the back of the backyard had a fence with whips attatched to it that surrounded a 10-foot dirt circle. Two armor stands stood against the fence--an armor fitting zone.

Weapons hung to the right of the CBers on the fence that was closest to the house; swords, bows, crossbows, and strange things that were both new and old, except the CBers had no idea what in the world they were.

In the direct middle of the half-circle backyard--oops, I mean boot camp--there was a platform and a small chair, which the onlookers presumed was for the farmer to watch them perform maneuvers on. Behind that was an open field; it was in front of the fence with the whips; and that had nothing in it.

And there was still more! The left side included a table with half-closed curtains around it, pressed in the corner where the fence met the house. From what the CBers could see, it was a makeshift meeting room with maps--and decorative trophies--hanging in it.

Beyond that, there were the weights; and beyond them, a smallish (I'm relatively speaking here) track with a towel rack next to it.

Still further into the yard (it happened to be a very large backyard) was a close-cropped grass oval with torn, splintering wooden dummies that looked like they were about to fall over and targets for bows.

And the CBers noticed that although the slinger machine was still there, the pool had magically disappeared--undoubtably quite literally.

"OUR POOOOOL!" Spyro wailed loudly.

"Spyro, be quiet!" Dragonrider said. "We're all right here, crowded on the back step. (It was true; and quite a sight to behold, for that many people on a single small step is indeed an amazing feat. Of feet.) You don't need to yell. And also, it's too cold to swim."

But of course, as all people who speak without thinking soon realize, she discovered she'd spoken too soon. The weather had unnoticably warmed by quite a bit, which was odd because not even a week ago the 'first day of winter' had occured. The CBers came to the conclusion that even the seasons were magical on the farm. There might not even have been seasons.

"Har-dee-har," the farmer's assistant said. "You're trying to 'take it all in'. Go ahead, it's not going to be as bad as you think!"

She pushed them off of the steps, ignoring the feeble protests uttered by the CBers. 

submitted by Farmer's Assistant, The Resort Farm
(May 10, 2016 - 10:56 am)

ToP tOp PoT OpT TopTopTopTop

submitted by tOp ToP tOP
(May 10, 2016 - 10:57 am)

TOP!

submitted by Top To The Top
(May 10, 2016 - 10:59 am)

...Top

submitted by Top...
(May 10, 2016 - 10:59 am)

(To the tune of "You'll Bring Honor to us All" from Disney's Mulan) 

Top this thread,

you will see,

and the COME BACK will come back to me... 

And the people will find words to read,

they'll bring laughter to us all!

 

submitted by Topper, age Topper, Topper
(May 10, 2016 - 11:03 am)

Yell Just top already!

Chip says, "Nebt". Chip, you are not helping at all. 

submitted by MAD TOPPER
(May 10, 2016 - 11:04 am)

CryPlease, top this thread!!!

submitted by Top...?
(May 10, 2016 - 11:04 am)

TOP! >:(

submitted by Farmer's Assistant, The Resort Farm
(May 10, 2016 - 3:41 pm)

TOP again. >:(

submitted by Farmer's Assistant, The Resort Farm
(May 10, 2016 - 3:41 pm)

Topping under all my titles...and getting a lot of words from Chip. Now he's saying, "Woua." A minute ago he said, "Yipi!" He must be riding a ghost horse. Or getting in the way of the other ghosts...

submitted by Micearenice
(May 10, 2016 - 3:42 pm)

Bump, top, peep, etc.

submitted by hotairballoon
(May 11, 2016 - 6:26 am)
Ack! I keep forgetting to post! Sorry. ;(
---------------------------------- 
As they walked through the formidable training area, the farmer appeared from behind the circular stage.
"You came right on time," he welcomed them. "So, get your bearings. Get ready. Have you been warming up?"
It was quite obvious that the farmer found their oncoming exercise very, very exciting. His life as a centaur must've included a lot of battling for him to enjoy training people so much. Or maybe he was acting. The CBers couldn't tell--but they were pretty sure he wasn't acting.
"So, I was thinking we could start over here," the farmer said. He pointed to the line of chalk and the weapons nearby. "To asess your weapon handling. Then, after an hour of training in that department---"
"Let's not scare them," the farmer's assistant warned.
"You're right," he amended. "Let's take it one step at a time."
He steered the CBers and AEs onto the line and spaced them accordingly.
"Now, does anyone know what this is?" the farmer asked after sorting out his new students. He held a rusted sword in his left hand.
"Um, a sword?" Gwen offered.
"Well, that's partially correct," the farmer answered. "Does anyone know what kind  of sword?"
"Is it a stout celestial Mediterranian longsword?" Moonsfrost suddenly asked, and then looked embarassed.
"Correct!" the farmer exclaimed, pleased. Moonfrost looked at her feet when her friends beamed at her.
"And do you know what it does?"
"Um, it looks old and rusty to the average onlooker, but it's actually really sharp and virtually impossible to break. It's from a book I read," she added hastily after earning more admiring looks from her friends.
"Excellent!" the farmer cried, his face lit up with a smile. "Does anyone know why I'm holding it in my left hand?"
Everyone peered expectantly at Moonfrost, waiting for her answer. "Because it's searing hot, and burns the user's dominant hand. Only your un-dominant hand is immune. It's meant to be a safety in case someone tries to steal it."
"Perfect!" The farmer was grinning from ear to ear. "And for our weapons training today, we will pracitce wielding them! As you can see, many weapons can be dangerous if you don't know how to handle them. So today, I will let you pick out whatever weapon catches your eye, and either my assistant or I will show you how to use it, and of course tell you what it is. Centaurs go through this method of training, and often, the first weapon they pick becomes their  weapon; the weapon that they feel the most comfortable with; the weapon that accompanies them through life. So, go ahead, pick your weapon. One at a time, now. And don't worry, I don't have any as dangerous as this sword hanging up. Pick away. Except--CAPTCHAs, I have some special slingshots for you."
The farmer and his assistant helped the CBers and CAPTCHAs as they chose the utensil (or slingshot) that most caught their eye. Moonfrost was asked her opinion on a lot of weapons, and as the two adults settled in the other CBers, Moonfrost, last in line, finally chose her weapon.
"I've never read about this one," she remarked, grasping the handle of the sword that she pulled off the fence. The farmer, preoccupied with showing Booksy Owly the correct way to hold a snake shooter, told her to hold on for a second while he helped Moonfrost with her new weapon.
When he arrived, he sucked in his breath. "I thought you might pick that one," he said as he reached her. "That's the one and only Transylvanian dragon-scale sword."
Moonfrost took a moment to admire the shiny, translucent appearance of her weapon. The opalescent blade glistened with pale green and yellow, and when she stroked what she had thougt before to be glass, she could see her hand behind it. The hilt was wrapped with textured but soft patterned yellow leather, and bound with strips of sheep's wool on the top and the bottom. Reptile skin had been attatched underneath all that, creating the ball at the bottom of the sword in a beautiful, glossy way. Amazingly, the weapon weighed almost nothing in her hands!
"The blade is made from Fortemis dragon scales, melted together to create a large blade. The hilt is made from ebony wood, cloaked in Mesopotamian marsh dragon leather, and wrapped in kangaroo leather on top. Alpaca wool binds the leathers together, creating a magical bond stronger than superglue. The weapon itself was made after a long war between dragons and the Elfeaa people." Here the farmer chuckled, making Moonfrost extremely curious about what was so funny. She looked up at him in anticipation. "Ah. But listen to me. You don't want to hear about that stuff. There's a really interesting aspect of this weapon, too. You see, it...ah, it talks."
Moonfrost didn't know what to say. "Like, it talks talks?"
"That depends on what talk-talking is, but yes, it does."
"Why isn't it talking now?" Moonfrost asked.
"What do you mean???" somebody interrupted suddenly. Moonfrost jumped back and held her sword as far from her as possible.
"Did you hear that?!" she said breathlessly.
"No, was it your sword?" the farmer answered.
"I--I guess," Moonfost muttered.
"Only the sword's owner can hear it talk. The only reason I know it talks is because my old friend Bill, who happens to not be living here on the farm, gave it to me long ago as a piece to put in my wares and he told me about its unique ability. He told me its story, and how the previous owner had died. It didn't mark me because the sword has to somewhat like its new owner, plus I wasn't going to even use it."
The farmer nodded at Moonfrost and he headed back to Booksy Owly. It seemed like he'd known what the sword would do next.
"Hi, Moonfrost," he said.
"Erm...hi," she replied.
"So," he continued brightly. "Whatcha going to name me?"
"Name you?" A normal person would've had to think that out, and even take a while to process the thought of a talking sword. But Moonfrost had read many books, and she felt comfortable having a talking weapon of her own. She replied simply, "Jack."
".....Jack." The sword sounded disheartened. "I was sort of hoping for Matthias, or Mozart, or Fortem."
"It's an inside joke," she explained.
"Okay, Jack it is then. Let's get to know each other!"
Moonfrost and her sword Jack got to know each other over the next ten minutes, in which she discovered that Jack's favorite food in life was goat meat, he liked to be used as a paddle in ping-pong, he loved to be thrown in the air, and made jokes a lot. Jack didn't say this specifically, but Moonfrost could tell that he was a happy-go-lucky sword. The thought sounded funny in her head.
Pretty soon, the other CBers heard about her awesome new weapon, and they came over to talk to him.
Elsa went first. "Hey, um...Jack, what's two plus two?"
Moonfrost helped translate the silence that the CBers heard into words. "He says, 'That's a kindergarten question! It's four!'"
Then Dragonrider went. "How old are you?"
"He says 'Does this have any relation to the last question asked? If you must know, I don't have any clue. But I'm really old.'"
Joss was about to interrogate Jack when the farmer walked over. "All right, now, I know--Jack, is it?--is interesting, but we still need to really practice! So, get into your lines and it's time for two hours of hard work."
The farmer took half of the CBers over to the clear spot/training dummy section for combat practice, and put the other half on the chalk line. His assistant would work with them, and after half the time, they'd switch the groups so they got even practices of each. 
submitted by Farmer's Assistant, The Resort Farm
(May 13, 2016 - 9:08 pm)

Top! I wonder what sword Spyro picked. He probably found a way to associate one of them with donuts. I hope Dolphin likes her water cannon. Oh, I'm so worried about them... *exhales* well, back to work...

submitted by H.A.B.'s ghost
(May 14, 2016 - 6:07 am)

Top

submitted by Micearenice
(May 21, 2016 - 7:04 am)
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