"There it is again, that ghastly noise!"
"Shut up, Balth."
This time it wasn't a joke. The members of old gathered in the office of the Inquirer. It was the last bastion of hope in this cruel world. The issue at hand was the sky. It disappeared. The beautiful cobalt sky with kobold-shaped clouds was gone when Thunderclaw woke up. Letting out a shout, the people of the town awoke to the shock of many things. The sky was gone and only a shifting, swirling blackness rested above everyone's head. It was a awe-inspiring, yet fearful sight to see another thing: A blonde-haired bard with light blue clothing. A blonde feather was stuck in his hat as he was the doomsayer. He knew of the impending doom as he was in control. Giving a sigh, there was a long queue. Beggars, Peasants, Commoners and the Nobles all waited in line, eager to ask the bard questions, ranging from the future to the personal questions of him.
"Damnit! Rob is already converting the forums!" Riyant cried out, his blood boiling at the sight of the city. Ever since Rob stationed himself in the center of city, the bustling city-like life of the forums turned anachronistic. There were no members, no more veterans. The Forum Inquirer was nestled farther away from the center of the area. The infection spread as far as the forums that were influenced by Rob and began to spread through the decrepit forums now. The Mafia Alleys that held artifacts from the history of the games. For instance, Tim's hedge clippers coated with the blood of scum and townies alikes from his Serial Killer shenanigans turned into a simple bloodied cloak and dagger. The script of the very first Adventurer's Club House mafia game of Pokemon was being rewritten and its paper aging. There were no squirtles, only groundbolds and many other creatures to replace the pokemon. The once popular Alley was deserted as Rob's influence crept ever closer to the Inquirer's office. Looking out from the office, it was an existential crisis to many of the Veterans, but most of all to Riyant.
Riyant was a grizzled sub-section moderator that was originally a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed boy with big hopes of changing the mafia section with Wolfy, his partner in mafia crime. However, the word of her wedding to Tirin populated the forums and being easily-distracted, Riyant lost track of the time. The mafia forum was stagnant and had several games running, Thunderclaw wished to breathe fresh air into it with the introduction of a "Vets only" game. Trench-coat draped players such as Easy and Requiem slid into the game, which was a rare sight. It was going to be a high stakes poker game, you know, if mafia was poker. Assuming Thunderclaw was the dealer, then the house was cheatin' big time. The commandment was broken: Roles must always be randomized. The veterans that were once united yelled and screamed until their ties were severed. Riyant was one of the loudest of the bunch and the most stubborn. He became jaded after the game, vowing to never play again. He was cynical and neglected the sub-forum like a red-headed stepchild, allowing cans of spam to appear. After all, some mods just want to watch the forum burn..
A single tear rolled down his cheek as his once beautiful alleyways of brick and cement pavement were replaced with cobblestone pathways and stone houses. The flyers were replaced with a large bulletin board filled with aged paper notes searching for the mafia members with gold rewards. The only thing that kept the alleyways from being extensions of the main town were the urchins that still played. The urchins that he hated were the only things that kept his subforum from joining the ranks of the roleplaying forums.
"Damn.."
Kratour gently pat Riyant's shoulder. The beautiful roleplaying forums that Kratour once explored sank into the grounds The buildings were numerous, but were filled with different settings for the users to manipulate and enjoy. It was an enjoyable place for all, until fewer people arrived. The once beautiful and numerous buildings became fewer and decrepit. If you wandered into one, you may find an old sword or the fourth or fifth remake of Golden Lore. However, with the lack of activity on them, they too were being overruns. The peasants and beggars were pushed into the area. The studios sinking into the ground as they were slowly pushing up stone and straw-thatched roofs. It looked great for a fantasy world, except, it was no longer role-playing.
Ch. 2: The Great Maelstrom
"Where did it all go wrong..?" TC squeaked out, curious as he looked at everyone. There was some mumbling as the classic phrases were uttered.
"The removal of the Club House!"
"The removal of religious and moral debates!"
"The Introduction of the Chat Thread."
Several veterans grumbled at all of them, but mostly the latter. The calm, collected chinchilla seemed to rest near the edge of the window as he looked out to the sea.
"Perhaps the movement of the Maelstrom."
There was a momentary pause. They knew that it was a wonder of the world until it was promoted to a "Dwarf Wonder of the World." Looking out, the bay was always shifting, yet it was only a weak sign that Maelstrom still existed. Today, the bay stood still.
