03-02-2017, 10:22 PM
Ogong scowled as he trudged across the dirt near the gate of Camelot.
The monkey had dived through the gate, barely avoiding the barrage of fire from the weird white-armored men. There was no sign of the hooded figure on the other side. In other words, he had more or less been ditched.
“This is dumb,” Ogong groaned, toying with a pebble between his toes. His staff was (again) mysteriously dormant. The normally talkative weapon remained rigid in his hand. It was a shame. He sure could use someone to talk to.
“GGRAAWLALA”
The monstrous bellowing behind Ogong was laced with metallic screeching, as if a mountain-sized lion was scratching its nails against glass. The monkey turned his head to look at the source.
Instead of a terrifying beast, he just saw a monkey.
To be fair, the monkey would have looked fairly intimidating to anyone with even a sub-par sense of self-preservation. A dark fog hugged the chimp’s frame, and what looked like black sludge was leaking from its various orifices. The same substance dripped from razor claws which clearly were not natural – they were squeezing out from beneath the skin behind his real fingernails.
Ogong just saw a really muddy monkey.
In fact, a very familiar one.
“Oh, hey! Monking, right?”
Monking was the chief of Flower Mountain Island before Ogong. It seemed that whatever he was doing was not good, as his underlings veritably cheered when Ogong forcibly threw him off the island. Last time they met, Monking had attacked Ogong’s friends with some sort of scroll. Or something? Ogong didn’t quite remember.
“I…” the disgruntled simian growled, “feel… POWER!”
Monking suddenly lunged at Ogong, swiping the monkey with his claws. Ogong leaned to the right, dodging the blow by a hair.
“Dude!” Ogong groaned, “We have been over this. There is absolutely no need to- URGH”
Monking was faster than usual. Recovering unnaturally quickly from the missed attack, he landed a clenched fist into Ogong’s abdomen.
The monkey chief flew backwards. He landed on his hands and flipped back to his feet, clenching Yoe-Pil and preparing to strike with it.
“Okay, that was pretty hurtful,” Ogong grunted, “Mind not doing that?”
Monking lunged once again, this time poised to slam down on Ogong with all ten of his claws. Ogong managed to block the attack with his staff. Yoe-Pil reacted, and understandably so.
“GGAAHHHH” the staff screamed, bending in Ogong’s hands.
Monking stared at it, dumbfounded. Ogong took the opportunity to kick Monking back. Monking crumpled in the distance, and Ogong landed on the back of his shoulders. He sprang back to his feet, brandishing the rudely awakened staff.
“What does a guy need to do to get one SOLID nap around- hey, watch what you’re swinging me!”
Ogong clubbed Monking’s head with the staff and punched him. Monking skidded back, slowing his momentum by pressing his clawed hands against the dirt.
“This is ridiculous,” Yoe-Pil huffed, “You do remember that I’m a sentient weapon, right? As in, I feel every single- OH GOOD GOD MY SPINE”
Monking was currently trying to wrench the weapon from Ogong’s hands. The resulting twisting and squeezing motion was apparently painful. Monking let go of the rod, then slapped his opponent with the back of his hand.
“Just shut up, Yoe-Pil,” Ogong hissed through grit teeth.
“Who dis, anyway?” the rod whined, “Why are we fighting him?”
“I dunno, he attacked me!”
Monking made a low swipe, which Ogong lightly hopped over. He slammed Yoe-Pil onto Monking’s skull, causing both parties involved to cry out in pain.
“Alright, that’s it,” the staff whined once more, “You know magic. Use it.”
Ogong rolled his eyes, then focused his energy. He felt a Chinese character forming above his head, and the definition flowed through his arms. You had to understand the word completely – the abstract concept and every aspect of the character needed to be accounted for. Luckily, Ogong had managed to understand this one pretty well by now.
Three parallel lines crossed by a much longer one hovered above Ogong’s head.
“Soo!” Ogong bellowed. His eyes glowed as he made a downward slapping motion with his right hand. Monking flinched as he waited for the surely devastating attack. (Monking didn't know what the character meant but he could tell it wasn't good.)
Nothing happened.
Monking opened his eyes and started chuckling nervously. He was safe! Ogong couldn’t cast magic!
“Yoe-Pil?” Ogong muttered irritably.
“Hm?” the rod replied, “Oh. Oh, right. I gotchu.”
Ogong felt magical energy channel through the rod and through his elbow. Suddenly, an enormous gray hand shot through the ground behind Ogong, towering above both monkeys. Monking attempted to flee, but found he could not move while being crushed by a behemoth palm. It pressed him against the dirt for a few seconds, twisting to further embed the disgruntled monkey into the ground.
The hand suddenly retreated into the earth. Ogong glowered at Yoe-Pil.
“What?” the rod snapped, “You gotta start learning how to cast this crap on your own.”
“I do know how to cast this crap on my own. But it's easier when you help.”
Yoe-Pil rolled his eyes – and though Yoe-Pil had no face, Ogong could still tell exactly what his expression was.
“Whoa,” the monkey whispered, “What’s that?”
Ogong noticed a small black chip on the back of Monking’s neck. He bent over and picked at it, trying to remove it.
“That wasn’t there before-“
“HOLD IT!”
Ogong flinched and looked up. A man in a military uniform was running towards him.
“What?” Ogong snapped.
“That’s a Darkchip,” the man panted, “You don’t wanna touch that.”
“A dark-what now?” Yoe-Pil said.
The man frowned. “Did… did your stick just talk?”
Ogong instinctively held back Yoe-Pil as the staff lunged at the man, swinging wildly.
“How dare you! I am one of the Three Great Masters- YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT YOU ANNOYING MONKEY”
Ogong hugged the staff forcibly, somehow also muffling the whining of the mighty weapon.
“What’s a Darkchip?”
The man blinked rapidly, then sighed. He handed the monkey a small contact card. “Come to this address in Coruscant. Look for Dr. Regal. He can tell you more.”
The man groaned as he unceremoniously picked up Monking’s limp (and incidentally snoring) body and propped it onto his shoulder. He started making his way back through the gate.
Ogong let go of Yoe-Pil, who gasped for air.
“Let a brother breathe, you ape!”
“Yoe-Pil,” Ogong groaned, “You don’t have lungs.”
Yoe-Pil smacked the monkey over the head. “It’s psychosomatic, idiot!”
Ogong rolled his eyes as quietly as he could.
“Alright, whatever. Let’s go see this Regal guy.”
The monkey gazed at the portal in front of him, then at the business card in his hand. Yoe-Pil read it as well.
“Hey, Ogong.”
“Yeah?”
“You have no idea how to read this, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Neither do I.”
“Wing it?” the monkey shrugged.
“As always,” the staff sighed.
Sun Ogong jumped once more back through the portal.
The monkey had dived through the gate, barely avoiding the barrage of fire from the weird white-armored men. There was no sign of the hooded figure on the other side. In other words, he had more or less been ditched.
“This is dumb,” Ogong groaned, toying with a pebble between his toes. His staff was (again) mysteriously dormant. The normally talkative weapon remained rigid in his hand. It was a shame. He sure could use someone to talk to.
“GGRAAWLALA”
The monstrous bellowing behind Ogong was laced with metallic screeching, as if a mountain-sized lion was scratching its nails against glass. The monkey turned his head to look at the source.
Instead of a terrifying beast, he just saw a monkey.
To be fair, the monkey would have looked fairly intimidating to anyone with even a sub-par sense of self-preservation. A dark fog hugged the chimp’s frame, and what looked like black sludge was leaking from its various orifices. The same substance dripped from razor claws which clearly were not natural – they were squeezing out from beneath the skin behind his real fingernails.
Ogong just saw a really muddy monkey.
In fact, a very familiar one.
“Oh, hey! Monking, right?”
Monking was the chief of Flower Mountain Island before Ogong. It seemed that whatever he was doing was not good, as his underlings veritably cheered when Ogong forcibly threw him off the island. Last time they met, Monking had attacked Ogong’s friends with some sort of scroll. Or something? Ogong didn’t quite remember.
“I…” the disgruntled simian growled, “feel… POWER!”
Monking suddenly lunged at Ogong, swiping the monkey with his claws. Ogong leaned to the right, dodging the blow by a hair.
“Dude!” Ogong groaned, “We have been over this. There is absolutely no need to- URGH”
Monking was faster than usual. Recovering unnaturally quickly from the missed attack, he landed a clenched fist into Ogong’s abdomen.
The monkey chief flew backwards. He landed on his hands and flipped back to his feet, clenching Yoe-Pil and preparing to strike with it.
“Okay, that was pretty hurtful,” Ogong grunted, “Mind not doing that?”
Monking lunged once again, this time poised to slam down on Ogong with all ten of his claws. Ogong managed to block the attack with his staff. Yoe-Pil reacted, and understandably so.
“GGAAHHHH” the staff screamed, bending in Ogong’s hands.
Monking stared at it, dumbfounded. Ogong took the opportunity to kick Monking back. Monking crumpled in the distance, and Ogong landed on the back of his shoulders. He sprang back to his feet, brandishing the rudely awakened staff.
“What does a guy need to do to get one SOLID nap around- hey, watch what you’re swinging me!”
Ogong clubbed Monking’s head with the staff and punched him. Monking skidded back, slowing his momentum by pressing his clawed hands against the dirt.
“This is ridiculous,” Yoe-Pil huffed, “You do remember that I’m a sentient weapon, right? As in, I feel every single- OH GOOD GOD MY SPINE”
Monking was currently trying to wrench the weapon from Ogong’s hands. The resulting twisting and squeezing motion was apparently painful. Monking let go of the rod, then slapped his opponent with the back of his hand.
“Just shut up, Yoe-Pil,” Ogong hissed through grit teeth.
“Who dis, anyway?” the rod whined, “Why are we fighting him?”
“I dunno, he attacked me!”
Monking made a low swipe, which Ogong lightly hopped over. He slammed Yoe-Pil onto Monking’s skull, causing both parties involved to cry out in pain.
“Alright, that’s it,” the staff whined once more, “You know magic. Use it.”
Ogong rolled his eyes, then focused his energy. He felt a Chinese character forming above his head, and the definition flowed through his arms. You had to understand the word completely – the abstract concept and every aspect of the character needed to be accounted for. Luckily, Ogong had managed to understand this one pretty well by now.
Three parallel lines crossed by a much longer one hovered above Ogong’s head.
“Soo!” Ogong bellowed. His eyes glowed as he made a downward slapping motion with his right hand. Monking flinched as he waited for the surely devastating attack. (Monking didn't know what the character meant but he could tell it wasn't good.)
Nothing happened.
Monking opened his eyes and started chuckling nervously. He was safe! Ogong couldn’t cast magic!
“Yoe-Pil?” Ogong muttered irritably.
“Hm?” the rod replied, “Oh. Oh, right. I gotchu.”
Ogong felt magical energy channel through the rod and through his elbow. Suddenly, an enormous gray hand shot through the ground behind Ogong, towering above both monkeys. Monking attempted to flee, but found he could not move while being crushed by a behemoth palm. It pressed him against the dirt for a few seconds, twisting to further embed the disgruntled monkey into the ground.
The hand suddenly retreated into the earth. Ogong glowered at Yoe-Pil.
“What?” the rod snapped, “You gotta start learning how to cast this crap on your own.”
“I do know how to cast this crap on my own. But it's easier when you help.”
Yoe-Pil rolled his eyes – and though Yoe-Pil had no face, Ogong could still tell exactly what his expression was.
“Whoa,” the monkey whispered, “What’s that?”
Ogong noticed a small black chip on the back of Monking’s neck. He bent over and picked at it, trying to remove it.
“That wasn’t there before-“
“HOLD IT!”
Ogong flinched and looked up. A man in a military uniform was running towards him.
“What?” Ogong snapped.
“That’s a Darkchip,” the man panted, “You don’t wanna touch that.”
“A dark-what now?” Yoe-Pil said.
The man frowned. “Did… did your stick just talk?”
Ogong instinctively held back Yoe-Pil as the staff lunged at the man, swinging wildly.
“How dare you! I am one of the Three Great Masters- YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT YOU ANNOYING MONKEY”
Ogong hugged the staff forcibly, somehow also muffling the whining of the mighty weapon.
“What’s a Darkchip?”
The man blinked rapidly, then sighed. He handed the monkey a small contact card. “Come to this address in Coruscant. Look for Dr. Regal. He can tell you more.”
The man groaned as he unceremoniously picked up Monking’s limp (and incidentally snoring) body and propped it onto his shoulder. He started making his way back through the gate.
Ogong let go of Yoe-Pil, who gasped for air.
“Let a brother breathe, you ape!”
“Yoe-Pil,” Ogong groaned, “You don’t have lungs.”
Yoe-Pil smacked the monkey over the head. “It’s psychosomatic, idiot!”
Ogong rolled his eyes as quietly as he could.
“Alright, whatever. Let’s go see this Regal guy.”
The monkey gazed at the portal in front of him, then at the business card in his hand. Yoe-Pil read it as well.
“Hey, Ogong.”
“Yeah?”
“You have no idea how to read this, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Neither do I.”
“Wing it?” the monkey shrugged.
“As always,” the staff sighed.
Sun Ogong jumped once more back through the portal.
![[Image: 665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/3590/f/2018/193/c/8/665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg)
Odd hours. Call for appointment.