Post by Triton Augustus on Jan 3, 2020 1:47:55 GMT -8
A joyous day Triton found himself in, the day he journeyed through the snow. Ne'er before had he witnessed the flurries. In stories from his old king and within the pages of books he heard of the wintery things, but ne'er before his eyes had they been.
A flake of great size struck his breast, which brought him confusion. He beheld stones and sticks came from it. From yonder, a small voice called, “Sorry mister!”
His heed was now brought to the voice's caster. In the child’s hand a ball of snow, which now gave the islander insight as to the origin of the projectile. Amongst him were three of his companions. “Fret not, boy! No harm has come to me!”
The islander’s gaze was now taken by a smaller boy. The child was huddled behind a tree’s vase of stone, one of great size. Fear seemed instilled in the boy’s heart, for he held himself and shivered. Tears were upon his face, and flakes upon his body.
“Cease your heaving, my friends!” Triton howled at the other children as he approached the fearful one.
The boy who threw the balls of snow frowned. “Hey! You can’t tell me what to do!”
Another ball went overhead not long after Triton knelt to speak with the shivering child. “What ails you, friend?”
The child sniffed and wiped a tear. “What does that mean?”
The islander pondered a moment. “Uh, what brings you to hide yourself?”
“They’re being mean,” he spoke with a lip that quivered.
“The other children?”
The boy nodded.
“How is it so?”
Confusion came upon the child. “Do you mean like… how are they being mean?”
Amusement came to Triton. “Yes."
“Oh…” the boy wiped another tear. “Aren’t they your friends?”
The brows of the islander narrowed. “Why do you ask this?”
“You called them your friends…”
A chuckle came from Triton as his head hung from the revelation. “I speak to all those who breathe as friends. However, if it is revealed to me that they are indeed enemies, then enemies they shall be.”
“Mm,” the boy muttered, his sorrow now lessened. “Well, I didn’t wanna have a snowball fight, but they made me, and then they started putting rocks and sticks in the snowballs to make them hurt more. They said it was to make them have more structure,” the boy made motion with his fingers as the two words he uttered. “But I don’t believe them.”
“They did this to bring you harm, yes?”
The boy nodded with saddened eyes.
Triton did the same in understanding. Upon a moment of consideration, Triton erected himself. “I declare a war of the snowball upon you and your fiends! Ready yourselves, for we strike before the passing of this hour!”
“What?!” their attacker exclaimed.
“What?!” the small boy followed.
Triton lowered himself once more and queried, “Pray tell, how does one fight with the snowball?”
“Uh..." the boy stammered, "well y-you make balls like this and you throw them, and you try not to get hit by the ones the other guys throw.”
Without hesitation, Triton took the ball and stood to deliver it, but he was quickly met with four of the opposing force’s. In the attack, Triton’s munition fell to naught.
The islander returned to his friend’s shelter. “I have been struck, have we lost?”
The boy found amusement in the words. “No, dude. There’s no losing.”
Confusion fell upon Triton. “Then how can victory be claimed?”
The boy thought a moment. “I guess if the other guys surrender.”
A grin graced the visage of the islander as he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Then let us lead them to beg for mercy!”
To Triton’s dismay, the boy was unsure of the words.
Triton sighed. “Craft more balls of snow, I will do the same. Let us devise a plan as we do so and make haste!”
The child followed the command, for swiftly did his hands get to work.
Upon the closing of the juncture, before half of the hour had come to pass, Triton asked of his comrade, “Ready?”
The boy nodded. “Ready.”
“There shall be a day where we find ourselves far from victory, and we will gaze upon the face of failure.” The blue hand returned to the small shoulder. “But this day shall not be that day!”
The islander erected himself with hardened scales, the roof of a canister of trash held by his left hand. Snowballs did indeed come, but they were made naught by his shield. Before another torrent was released, Triton laid down his shield and restored his empty hand with a snowball. Both hands now held the weapons.
The ball that he held in his right was swiftly heaved into the face of the foe far on the left. Its force was so mighty that the fiend found himself upon the ground.
With eyes fixed on the power displayed by the attack, Triton used the foreseen moment to deliver another strike of equal power to the girlchild that was made the farthest left, now that the other child was no longer.
Two more balls the small boy gave to Triton, and he sent both of them to a meaty boy that stood most right. One struck his gut, the other his forehead, and the munition he had prepared fell with him.
Another two were given to the islander, and he gazed at the leader of the band of evildoers, the one who struck Triton before he entered the scene. “Surrender now, or you shall beg for death!” Triton roared.
His little friend rolled out a mighty ball of snow, one that rivaled Triton’s own head in size.
The enemies fled, two with tears.
“You’ve nothing to worry now, my friend. Now, return home and bring joy to your parents.”
The boy laughed a devious laugh. “Okay! Thank you!” he praised Triton as he ran with gaiety.
The islander smiled. “Merry Christmas, friend!”
A flake of great size struck his breast, which brought him confusion. He beheld stones and sticks came from it. From yonder, a small voice called, “Sorry mister!”
His heed was now brought to the voice's caster. In the child’s hand a ball of snow, which now gave the islander insight as to the origin of the projectile. Amongst him were three of his companions. “Fret not, boy! No harm has come to me!”
The islander’s gaze was now taken by a smaller boy. The child was huddled behind a tree’s vase of stone, one of great size. Fear seemed instilled in the boy’s heart, for he held himself and shivered. Tears were upon his face, and flakes upon his body.
“Cease your heaving, my friends!” Triton howled at the other children as he approached the fearful one.
The boy who threw the balls of snow frowned. “Hey! You can’t tell me what to do!”
Another ball went overhead not long after Triton knelt to speak with the shivering child. “What ails you, friend?”
The child sniffed and wiped a tear. “What does that mean?”
The islander pondered a moment. “Uh, what brings you to hide yourself?”
“They’re being mean,” he spoke with a lip that quivered.
“The other children?”
The boy nodded.
“How is it so?”
Confusion came upon the child. “Do you mean like… how are they being mean?”
Amusement came to Triton. “Yes."
“Oh…” the boy wiped another tear. “Aren’t they your friends?”
The brows of the islander narrowed. “Why do you ask this?”
“You called them your friends…”
A chuckle came from Triton as his head hung from the revelation. “I speak to all those who breathe as friends. However, if it is revealed to me that they are indeed enemies, then enemies they shall be.”
“Mm,” the boy muttered, his sorrow now lessened. “Well, I didn’t wanna have a snowball fight, but they made me, and then they started putting rocks and sticks in the snowballs to make them hurt more. They said it was to make them have more structure,” the boy made motion with his fingers as the two words he uttered. “But I don’t believe them.”
“They did this to bring you harm, yes?”
The boy nodded with saddened eyes.
Triton did the same in understanding. Upon a moment of consideration, Triton erected himself. “I declare a war of the snowball upon you and your fiends! Ready yourselves, for we strike before the passing of this hour!”
“What?!” their attacker exclaimed.
“What?!” the small boy followed.
Triton lowered himself once more and queried, “Pray tell, how does one fight with the snowball?”
“Uh..." the boy stammered, "well y-you make balls like this and you throw them, and you try not to get hit by the ones the other guys throw.”
Without hesitation, Triton took the ball and stood to deliver it, but he was quickly met with four of the opposing force’s. In the attack, Triton’s munition fell to naught.
The islander returned to his friend’s shelter. “I have been struck, have we lost?”
The boy found amusement in the words. “No, dude. There’s no losing.”
Confusion fell upon Triton. “Then how can victory be claimed?”
The boy thought a moment. “I guess if the other guys surrender.”
A grin graced the visage of the islander as he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Then let us lead them to beg for mercy!”
To Triton’s dismay, the boy was unsure of the words.
Triton sighed. “Craft more balls of snow, I will do the same. Let us devise a plan as we do so and make haste!”
The child followed the command, for swiftly did his hands get to work.
Upon the closing of the juncture, before half of the hour had come to pass, Triton asked of his comrade, “Ready?”
The boy nodded. “Ready.”
“There shall be a day where we find ourselves far from victory, and we will gaze upon the face of failure.” The blue hand returned to the small shoulder. “But this day shall not be that day!”
The islander erected himself with hardened scales, the roof of a canister of trash held by his left hand. Snowballs did indeed come, but they were made naught by his shield. Before another torrent was released, Triton laid down his shield and restored his empty hand with a snowball. Both hands now held the weapons.
The ball that he held in his right was swiftly heaved into the face of the foe far on the left. Its force was so mighty that the fiend found himself upon the ground.
With eyes fixed on the power displayed by the attack, Triton used the foreseen moment to deliver another strike of equal power to the girlchild that was made the farthest left, now that the other child was no longer.
Two more balls the small boy gave to Triton, and he sent both of them to a meaty boy that stood most right. One struck his gut, the other his forehead, and the munition he had prepared fell with him.
Another two were given to the islander, and he gazed at the leader of the band of evildoers, the one who struck Triton before he entered the scene. “Surrender now, or you shall beg for death!” Triton roared.
His little friend rolled out a mighty ball of snow, one that rivaled Triton’s own head in size.
The enemies fled, two with tears.
“You’ve nothing to worry now, my friend. Now, return home and bring joy to your parents.”
The boy laughed a devious laugh. “Okay! Thank you!” he praised Triton as he ran with gaiety.
The islander smiled. “Merry Christmas, friend!”