Siege of the Dining Doom [Open]

     It was terrible. The precious Dining Room, so easily dirtied from bits of crumbs to spills of sauce, and yet it could never have imagined the defilement it had experienced so much as of today. It was a regular evening, the floors were clean, the tables were polished, and the staff workers finally closed down the room for its own peaceful silence. A time where no voices bounced off the tables, no loud clanging and beating on plates and dining utensils, or no wild and bizarre occurrences that would harm the local schedule this room has been on for many years. Ah, how pleasant. A pleasantry cut short from... them.

    Without any warning, the door were broken down as hordes of hens, roosters, and other white, feathery mad-birds invaded the Dining Room interior, and by extension, the kitchen, and proceeded to smash any furniture available. While  the dining room was only mildly effected, the kitchen was the main target of these beasts, and soon, ingredients, meats, and all sorts of equipment was trashed. Not long after, the Dining Room became something it never thought it would have. The remaining tables became the foundation of a new barricade blocking the entrances of the Dining Room. Bits of wood and metal were sticking out from the tables, dissuading any intruder from even attempting to approach. On the inside, the rest of the tables became houses among the chickens, and already, they have set up several residential areas, markets, a jailhouse, two factories that produce weapons and machinery used by the enemy forces, a brothel, two hospitals, a city hall, and a restaurant that only serves the finest seeds on the island. They even have already have a form of currency with the use of tiny clothespins. Hell, a newspaper is already in production inside their fortress. In such a short time, they have already created a functioning settlement, ready to take on everyone who dares try to liberate their lands, which is more proven inside the former kitchen, which holds the main army. It was a death wish.

    Kappy peaked her head around a corner to the Dining Hall. It was heavily guarded, with the post having four chickens in aluminum armor, all with their signature weapons: the baseball bat. It was dangerous to approach them without alerting every chicken within the confines of their establishment. While Kappy could take on a bunch of chickens by herself, she believed that if the chickens are rebelling from human consumption, then they'll not hesitate to capture her and get eaten, she believed. She was already sweating blood in preparation. Of course, she didn't realize that the chickens have already mobilized themselves so quickly. When she read that part in her list, she didn't realize that the Dining Hall was going to be a victim in their mayhem, if they didn't, she wouldn't have a problem. But they have interrupted Kappy's meals, and that's not okay at all.

    Kappy leaned back from the corner and looked at her nail bat. "Huh, a bat verses a bunch of bats. Is this fate trying to tell me something?" Kappy murmured. 
    

    The halls near the the dining room began to shake as the sounds of heavy and frantic footsteps grew near. A symphony of various mechanical noises accompanied the footsteps, making it almost sound as though some sort of automotive factory had grown legs and was charging down through the building. In actuality the source of the commotion was not some sort of bipedal workshop, that being absurd even for the likes of Foresta Academy. No, the noisemaker was actually a 7 and a half foot tall robot that could transform into a vending-machine and unicorn. And it also happened to be a part-time janitor for the school, as one could reasonably assume upon noticing the mop holstered on the mech’s back next to the oversized beam cannon. It’s name was Alva, and it was in one of the nicest ex-murderbots you could meet. 

    The mechanical mop-wielder seemed to be looking down at it’s feet as it ran, while having something clutched protectively in metallic hands. It began to gradually slow down as it got closer and closer as it approached the entrance to the dining hall, eventually coming to a stop right next to the profusely bleeding student. “Hello there, have you see-,” the robot began to question before noticing the absurd amount of blood that Kappy was producing. “OH MY GOODNESS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!” The machine dropped to a knee next to the radio host and removed one of it’s hands from what it had been holding, now revealed to be an oddly glowing bird egg, and reached for something in a now-opened compartment along the robot’s back.  

    Producing around 800 stacked paper towels, Alva held out with a shakily arm for Kappy. “If you can move your arms properly, please apply these to the sources of the blood flow and keep pressure on them. I am going to shout very loudly for help in a moment, are you okay with that?” Unaware of the danger that lurked just around the corner, and not fitted with any internal telecommunications devices, the ‘bot began to prime would could only be described as a blow horn on steroids that was trying to impersonate an air-raid siren, setting it to sound off in 20 seconds if no objections are received. Should Kappy choose not to talk-down the concerned Alva and avert this approaching folly, a terrible fate likely awaited them. A fate involving angry birds with bats and/or unamused staff.