♦ Demons.EXE ♥ Backstory ♠ Blackjack ♣
Sep. 19th, 2014 06:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nanunanuThe species of Thunderbirds were considered to be a rather rare species. With only a few tribes remaining most secluded. Away and completely outside the modern human world, for since the war they wanted nothing to do with those meddling mortals who caused nothing but trouble. Over the years however, things slowly seem to have calm down between the demons and humans.
It was the Orkan Tribe that decided to be the first to step out and update themselves upon the modern world. That is… Send out a certain dorkan so they won’t have to deal with him and his antics anymore.
A rather fuzzy, what appeared to be some kind of colorful anthropomorphic bird, waited inside the Chief Orson’s house. His name was Mork. In human form he was just as fuzzy, just with much less feathers and more dark brown hair. But his bright blue eyes remained.
For now Mork was in his Thunderbird form. He wore his traditional attire, his large rainbow colored wing gathered close to him as he sat on the ground before Orson’s big empty chair.
In worry, Mork began to mutter to himself, “Boy am I in for it now. Set before the white chair AGAIN. What did I do…? The giant egg you fool you painted a mustache on it. But Orson doesn’t know I did it. So why am I here…? If I knew that I wouldn’t be talking to myself.”
Just then Orson showed up, and addressed the young Thunderbird before him, “Mork.”
Sitting up at attention at the head chief, Mork replied, “Good morning Orson!”
“Orson…?” the Chief, gestured toward Mork, towering himself over his underling, “You call me Orson to my face. But behind my back you call me feather ball, mountain high, and chocobo toosh.”
“You forgot Lightning Breath, ARRRR ARRRR~!” After Mork made his little laugh at his own jokes he winced at Orson who seemed far from amused. He looked down, knowing he made a mistake by calling his Chief so many disrespectful names, “Sorry your immenseness.”
Orson gave a sigh, “You see what I mean? These constant displays of humor are not acceptable behavior here in our Orkan Tribe.”
“You’re right, we are rather a dull lot. The white bread of the ancient creatures.”
“Emotions have been weeded out of us for the good of the race, and you constantly make jokes. I’m afraid that won’t do.”
Mork grimaced as his wings ruffled in fear of his punishment. Instead however Orson pulled out a scroll, reveal a rather large map. Revealing the modern city just across the ancient gorge. Orson spoke to Mork with calm authority, “There’s an insignificant population of humans and demons on the far side of the valley. From the fragmented reports we have on it, the inhabitants are… Well, uh…”
“Real nimnuls?”
“Exactly.”
With that said, Orson rolled up the scroll and handed it over to Mork. As he spoke again, “That’s why I think you’ll fit in there Mork.”
Mork took the scroll, as he grimaced slightly, but gave a smile regardless, “You’re too kind sir,” Looks closer at the map as his eyebrows raised, “Hey-Hey I recognize this area! I was there 3 years ago. I was sent there for a biology experiment to collect a specimen. I had to throw it back though. Too small. But I love that place!”
Chief Orson returned to sit on his chair as he addressed Mork, “Well. Don’t enjoy it too much. It’s not a vacation we want you to learn all you can about modern societies. Your mission is to report back to me about the things you learn there. And remember, this is a serious mission.”
Understanding the situation, the young Thunderbird, stood up as he gave a slight bow. “You can count on me Orson! D, D, and E. Dedicated, Diligent and Efficient!” Holds up his hands to rub the sides of his temples in the traditional salute to his Chief, “Nanu nanu!”
Holding up his own hands, Orson saluted Mork off, “Nanu nanu.”
It was the Orkan Tribe that decided to be the first to step out and update themselves upon the modern world. That is… Send out a certain dorkan so they won’t have to deal with him and his antics anymore.
A rather fuzzy, what appeared to be some kind of colorful anthropomorphic bird, waited inside the Chief Orson’s house. His name was Mork. In human form he was just as fuzzy, just with much less feathers and more dark brown hair. But his bright blue eyes remained.
For now Mork was in his Thunderbird form. He wore his traditional attire, his large rainbow colored wing gathered close to him as he sat on the ground before Orson’s big empty chair.
In worry, Mork began to mutter to himself, “Boy am I in for it now. Set before the white chair AGAIN. What did I do…? The giant egg you fool you painted a mustache on it. But Orson doesn’t know I did it. So why am I here…? If I knew that I wouldn’t be talking to myself.”
Just then Orson showed up, and addressed the young Thunderbird before him, “Mork.”
Sitting up at attention at the head chief, Mork replied, “Good morning Orson!”
“Orson…?” the Chief, gestured toward Mork, towering himself over his underling, “You call me Orson to my face. But behind my back you call me feather ball, mountain high, and chocobo toosh.”
“You forgot Lightning Breath, ARRRR ARRRR~!” After Mork made his little laugh at his own jokes he winced at Orson who seemed far from amused. He looked down, knowing he made a mistake by calling his Chief so many disrespectful names, “Sorry your immenseness.”
Orson gave a sigh, “You see what I mean? These constant displays of humor are not acceptable behavior here in our Orkan Tribe.”
“You’re right, we are rather a dull lot. The white bread of the ancient creatures.”
“Emotions have been weeded out of us for the good of the race, and you constantly make jokes. I’m afraid that won’t do.”
Mork grimaced as his wings ruffled in fear of his punishment. Instead however Orson pulled out a scroll, reveal a rather large map. Revealing the modern city just across the ancient gorge. Orson spoke to Mork with calm authority, “There’s an insignificant population of humans and demons on the far side of the valley. From the fragmented reports we have on it, the inhabitants are… Well, uh…”
“Real nimnuls?”
“Exactly.”
With that said, Orson rolled up the scroll and handed it over to Mork. As he spoke again, “That’s why I think you’ll fit in there Mork.”
Mork took the scroll, as he grimaced slightly, but gave a smile regardless, “You’re too kind sir,” Looks closer at the map as his eyebrows raised, “Hey-Hey I recognize this area! I was there 3 years ago. I was sent there for a biology experiment to collect a specimen. I had to throw it back though. Too small. But I love that place!”
Chief Orson returned to sit on his chair as he addressed Mork, “Well. Don’t enjoy it too much. It’s not a vacation we want you to learn all you can about modern societies. Your mission is to report back to me about the things you learn there. And remember, this is a serious mission.”
Understanding the situation, the young Thunderbird, stood up as he gave a slight bow. “You can count on me Orson! D, D, and E. Dedicated, Diligent and Efficient!” Holds up his hands to rub the sides of his temples in the traditional salute to his Chief, “Nanu nanu!”
Holding up his own hands, Orson saluted Mork off, “Nanu nanu.”
