Tommyinnit Oneshots

Same 'Ole Story (part 2)

Shroud wiped the sweat off his brow with one hand while the other moved to put his weapons away. He had learned from his uncle to always keep his weapons on him, so he slid his kunai in his boot and slid his whip around his belt loops. He could easily grab onto either one of them should he be attacked randomly; though, it was unlikely that he would be attacked in Remnant. He had met most of the people. They were kind and pacifistic to a literal fault. While he would prefer that to violent people, it did make it hard to teach the militia how to properly fight. Every time he tried to teach them how to throw an orthadox punch, he could sense the hesitation that their minds had to work through. Their natural reaction was peace, and he couldn't fault them for that. Villagers were not the same species as Players. Villagers were wired in their brains to play it safe. The worst they could do on their own was build golems who were enchanted to protect the village. Evokers and PVillagers were quick to eliminate the golems, though, so there wasn't much of a point to them.

Shroud sighed into his hand. He looked back over the field. A few Villagers were still hanging around, talking with one another with tired smiles and sweaty faces. They had worked on physical strength and endurance that day, so Shroud didn't need to convince the Villagers to go back on their instincts. He hated doing that. Since he was a Mob Shifter, he understood more than most people what it was like to have instincts and actively fight against them. He had trouble in his youth not outright attacking his father or other Players simply because it was in his nature to do so. Shroud could still recall the pained look his father wore on his face when he had to put Shroud in a glass box because the spiderling wouldn't stop trying to attack him. Shroud didn't fault his father for doing that. It was because of his time in that glass box, seeing his father's anguished expression, gave Shroud the tenacity to break against his urge to spin Players into webs as if they were little more to him than flies. Shroud hoped that seeing their village repeatedly attacked by the Wendigo tribe with some Villagers being killed in the attacks would provide the perfect reason for the Villagers to overcome their mental blocks.

Shroud pushed open a window door to a building that strayed to the side of the village. It was right beside the field where Shroud and Michael trained the militia members, and it was a quick walk to the main house where Shroud, Michael, Fundy, and Yogurt were staying in until they could build a home base that overlooked all of the villages that they wanted to unite underneath a singular banner. This building was used as a meeting place between the four Players and the political leaders of Remnant. While Shroud and Michael trained the current militiamen, Yogurt could usually be found in this building, working on various things that needed to be taken care of to really make their visions of peace come true. The inside was made of wood with glass windows sporadically placed along each of the walls. There was a small anteroom before it opened into a larger room with several wooden tables with pushed-in chairs. Yogurt was leaning against the left table in the front, looking over various documents all around her. Michael was standing at the white board with a marker in hand, writing down whatever Yogurt told him to.

Michael turned around when he heard the door, a smile breaking across his face when he saw his best friend. Yogurt didn't look up at him, but her nose wrinkled against her face. She pressed her hand underneath her nostrils with a glare sharpening her face. "You smell awful."

"I fucking just got done training the militia. We finished off the session by running laps until someone passed out. Before you ask, no, I didn't actually make them go until someone passed out. I didn't threaten them. I told them a strategic lie. There's a difference," Shroud said, hopping onto the table in the front on the right side of the room.

"There is no difference," Yogurt deadpanned with a serious expression. She shuffled around to look through a stack of folders on the edge of the table she had been leaning on. She flipped a few up before grabbing onto the one she wanted. She opened it over the spot she had been sitting, shuffling through the papers.