The door clicked shut softly and the party left the room. After a half an hour of seeing the banning, madness, and the nails-on-chalkboard equivelant of nails on a chalk board the party stepped out. Save for Joe, who simply floated out on his etheral tendrils of sanctified glory.
The TV room let out into a hallway. Carpeted in deep-blue with white-washed walls. The doors along this hall were all of the sliding variety, and built of solid mahogony. "Well that wasn't at all enlightening." Aaron commited, adjusting the twin glasses on his face and strolling off. The others followed suit.
"I could have spent my time doing other things," Vilage commented, "like Game of Thrones..."
"But it wasn't on." Dragonvoid cut in cradling Taupo close to her chest. The soccer-ball sized kiwi seemed to take a certain pleasure in the closeness his head had.
Together they walked down the hall to an open room at the far end, "So what'd I miss?" Vilage inquired.
"Glorious things." Dragonvoid responded with a light-hearted smile.
"Tell me." Vilage demanded, turning on his heels and beginning to skillfully shuffle backwards. He glared into Dragonvoid's green eyes.
"Nope." she insisted, shaking her head back and forth and then looking at the wall, pretending to be deeply interested in its shallow and undramatic landscape. The kiwi in her arms merely looked at Vilage and gave a sinister chuckle. Then stuck out his tounge.
"I hope you get ran over by a bus." Vilage chided. Taupo threw his head back and gave a cackling laugh.
Coming to the room at the end of the hall they disperessed. Standing at the far side was a chest-high bar that Dragonvoid and Aaron smoothly cut too. Taupo was let on the floor where he hoped about and walked over to a table where another figure sat. He immediatly opened a debate with him over the faults of communism and how the boy at the table was a fool for thinking communism was followable.
At the left wall stood an alter were a respectable lady stood deep in meditative prayer. At a bar table a few feet away a teenage boy - probably no older than seventeen - drank with a plastic pony doll (vaguely resembling Berry Punch) and a goat-looking plush (which was apperantly named Nan). Aaron eyed him with a sense of humor before continuing to the bar counter.
"Got any Astii back there still?" he asked, leaning over it and trying to get a look at the contents. Dragonvoid gave him a what-do-I-look-like look.
"Of course." she laughed, then reached under the counter and produced a bottle of Astii. Breaking the cork out she poured two glasses and passed one to Aaron.
Taking a sup of the candy-flavored drink Aaron said, "What do you think?"
"I like it." Rainey said, taking a sip from her glass. Her eyes went to Aaron's and he face contorted into bemused impuzzledment. "What?" she asked.
"I know you like Astii!" Aaron shouted, "We all know that fairly well. No, what do you think of BB so far."
"As Vilage says, he knows where to nip the brony problem in the butt." Aaron wasn't amused. Smiling sardonically she continued, "I think he's cracked." she added.
"He used to be a cool guy." Aaron said, "Now, well. It's more mixed. Bets on how long until things break down?"
"Without me and Taupo there more often," Dragonvoid began, "I'll give it a year."
Bright white lights hummed in the cieling as a pair of figure sat on coushined lounge chairs. Infront of them a great flat-screen displayed the happenings of far in steadily changing images as one of the two figures mashed buttons on a long thin black remote. Little else was significant in this chamber, coated a gleaming ivory-white that seemed to enhance the light from the above halogens.
The lounge chairs, the two figures, and the screen were the only objects that mired the perfection of the room. The chairs: dressed in deep red and purple velvet were plush and soft and hugged the forms of the figures that housed them. The screen: flat, with a black border that encased the vibrant colors dancing across its surface. And the two men? Both of difference.
"Go back a channel." one of the two said, extending an arm and waving it about. Long brown hair hung down alongside and infront of his face in great geasy mats. Heavy sunglasses hung on his nose, in front of another pair of eyeglasses. A shaggy beard hung from his chin. Scratching at his heavy coat he added: "That looked interesting."
"Oh hell no." the other snapped, hair cropped shorter and looking all around different. "We're looking for Game of Thrones."
"Well hell, if we're going to do that you could at least hit up Precipice."
"You're probably just going to throw your chair against the wall again."
The long-haired one was mildly taken back. Pausing to give it thought he said in a low breath, "I guess you're right. But if we're not doing that at least go back a few channels, Vilage."
Vilage looked to his side and into the shrouded eyes of the other. "As I said: no."
"Oh fine, at least pop by the Sporum and see what's up there."
Vilage gave a long sigh of dispondent annoyance, "Alright, it's on our way anyways."
A few hollow clicks later and the screen came to a stop. It rested there, displaying the covoluted events that made day-to-day life of the Sporum. Grade-schoolers milling about shouting about 2008 Spore, how the forum isn't dead, and being generally abused by anyone not them or with more inflated egos.
"Ok, not worth my time." the long-haired one said with a impatient breath, "Carry on."
A celebratory grin crawled onto Vilage's face as he began racing through the channels and on to victory. "I don't know why I bother." the long haired one said.
"Didn't you say at some point, Aaron," Vilage said, "That you're like the vulture waiting for the corpse to finally die?"
"I think I did." Aaron chuckled, "Pinkie Pie?" he added, holding out a small pink horse statute he pulled from his pocket.
Vilage muttered a curse under his breath. Succesfully solicitating some irritation Aaron smiled. "I know Viz'll want it. Though he probably has enough of these..."
Aaron was cut off as the far wall slid open momentarily destroying its perfect consistency. Through the new portal walks a woman clad in black leather that hugged every curve of her body. Held in her hand was a fluffy bird the size and shape of a soccer ball. Its blue beady eyes regarded Vilage and Aaron with unenthused curiosity. Oddly, it had a tuft of yellow feathers atop its head.
"Hello." the woman said, walking alonside Vilage and Aaron as anew recliner appeared from the floor with a hissing woosh. Sitting down she placed the bird on the ground. She had something of an accent, like a Canadian misplaced in warmer climbs and trying to hide it.
The bird gave a rattled huff, "Good thing you didn't forget me." he said, proceeding to preen his feathers with his long beak.
"What're you two doing?" she inquired, as Vilage returned to flipping through the infinite channels.
"Looking to see if Game of Thrones is on." Vilage said.
"Well you missed it." Dragonvoid said softly and with a patronizing smile, "The new episode just ended five minutes ago."
Exasperated, Vilage threw the remote in the hair. Aaron gave a coughing laugh. The black device clattered to the ground. Getting to his feet, Taupo hobbled over to the remote and gave it a heft non-bird-like kick, sliding it across to the middle of the group.
Following after he sat down to where it had slid and began tapping at the buttons with his beak. Leaning forward Vilage asked: "What are you doing?"
"Checking on something." Taupo spoke between taps. Several later he had dialed in a number, hitting enter the TV snapped from the cooking show it had ended up on to the chaotic scene of masochistic youths they had just passed before. As opposed to the scene of random and screaming they had seen just moments past the picture had apperantly organized to an impromptu lynching.
Shaking her head Dragonvoid sighed, "Why?"
"Why not?" Taupo argued back, "Not much else on."
On the screen, a tall gentelman dressed in a black suit with thick crow-black feathers hanging from the arms stood above a crowd of zit-pocketed thralling youths as they chanted incoherently. The crow-man brandished a torch in one hand that he used to taunt someone strapped to a wooden pool. A pile of sticks at his feet.
"For speaking of ponies!" BB shouted above the thrall, "I banish you from this sanctuary because forget all civility!"
Aaron sighed. "Why continue?" he moaned, "Does he want to kill the place."
Rainey gave a shallow shrug, but didn't peel her eyes from the screen. Perhaps a little interested. As was Vilage, who had taken to leaning forward as BB slowly inched the torch to the pile of sticks. The brony on the poll thrashed helpless at the ropes of memetic reaction images and captioned Gene Wielder photos. But to little avail as the the flames licked at the sticks and started. As the flames lit the denizens of a box labeled "Civilized" began to jump and beat their chests wildly like apes.
As the fire grew a certain, presence fostered itself into exixtence. First in the feeling of a warming embrace. Then in a soft golden glowing that grew to the point it beat the Halogen lights themselves. And with a rupturous pop that gave no one in the room a jump a new figure came into existence.
"Because he just can't let go." said a booming and echoing voice. One that spoke of ageless wisdom. A messiah's voice.
Glancing back the four said, "Evening Joe."
Joe - a figure of holy and living light - nodded to them and struted over to the seats. With a wave of his hand he summoned a golden throne and threw himself down. Then continued: "As it's been noted several times in our sanctuary Black Bird doesn't leave because he feels he can't. Unlike Slime, Chaos, and the others he has taken his oath seriously. Mayhaps, too seriously.
"And as we all know, he is enforcing empty laws un-ratified by the admins. Why? They are dead. He may be trying too. Or he may be trying to carve it up to his own image. Whichever it is though, he has support and it's apperant the mods will conduct a campaign much like the holocaust. They will ban, burn, troll, and flame every social deviant that joins until only those that amuse him, or suck up to him remain.
"We know this. We all do.
"He says to ignore the trolls. To not speak of them after their gone. But low, even after you go - Taupo, Dragon, Vilage - he must voice his displeasure in the longest wind possible. He's failed his own philosphies. And when they're pointed out, they're banned."
"And when people approach them in PMs, he avoids them."
Joe seemed taken by this and turned to Aaron.
"Word has it that Jokie contacted him on the matter." Aaron explained, "And for his inquiries he was prosecuted for arguing. When he defended himself BB told him off. I haven't heard if he ansewered from Jokie pointing out the ironies, but I'm waiting."
As the brony began to burn in the fires of suspension a scraggly figure took the stage and began reading from a book in his hand. The passages were vile and full of un-ironic literary failure. Reeling, Aaron couldn't help but imagine the fun an old compatriot of his - Doug - would have. Looking at Taupo it was apperant they were both very aware by the offended looks in their eye.
The passages too seemed to carry the irony that BB has commited in regards to the others in this room. The so called "false martyrs". The figure reading seemed to hold old trolls to a notable standard. Although not painted as good, it gave them all far more attention than they ever needed.