SGRUB Theta [Closed]

[Thrillho]

A young troll sits in front of his husktop, his person residing nicely in his respiteblock. It just so happens that today, the 7th bilunar perigee of the 11th dark season's equinox, is the day that was designated to finally get around to playing a certain game. Even though this is way past his wriggling day, it is today that he will be reminded of his name!

-What? He already has a name!

==>

Your name is KIMOKE ZEMWAL. As previously stated, you are currently waiting to start up this game. After what felt like an eternity of your friends bugging you about actually showing up, the very thing you feared had showed itself. -Waiting for everyone else to hop on...

In this moment of peace, you decide to ponder on your INTERESTS which are a pretty big deal in your opinion. You have a deep love for TERRIBLY MADE MOVIES as their indie quality makes them even more enjoyable. Because of this, you always hope to emulate that same magic by LEARNING NEW SKILLS. -Even if you are NOTORIOUSLY BAD AT THAT due to everyone insisting that you QUIT TOO EASILY. -Whatever. That never stops you! You always try to put your 100% in FATAL LIVE ACTION ROLE PLAYING, or FLARP. Of which you are a wiz at!

You also stay in touch with everyone you know, regardless of your supposed short comings with relationships. The only reliable way you keep chatting with them is the new chat-client, TROLLIAN. You aren't sure how you feel about it though...

Oh! Your handle on said chat-client is galliardAffranchise and you speak in a way '--/\ TH@t @ll0ws y0U to freeLy spe@K wHEre rand0m letters can Be c@pitals.

==>

You tap away at the keyboard, sending invites the crew.

Pesterlog:

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Be the.. uh.. crazed maniac talking to the sky

The new troll that you abruptly switch to is in fact, despite what it looks like, is not a crazed maniac and is not talking to the sky. They are having a relaxing conversation with only the stars. Oh, and their long-ass lusus too.

They are currently lazily resting on the back of their lusus as it leisurely soars through the sky, circling the young troll's hive. Their golden scleras look only at the sky, mouthing a few inaudible words before politely asking their lusus to bring them back down to their hive. Once they manage to get low enough, the unkempt troll leaps off their lusus and lands on their hive's roof. As if they had all the time in the world, they trudged to their hive's roof hatch and crawled in.

==> An introduction, if you don't mind.

The "crazed and maniacal star talker" happens to be named ASTERO EREBUS. You don't get to name her "SPACE HOBO" no matter how many times you try. Your efforts are futile. Stop now. "MOTHERFUCKING SPACE GAL" isn't an improvement.

==> Anyways....

You are ASTERO EREBUS and your name is ONLY ASTERO EREBUS. You appearance is noticeably UNKEMPT, as seen by your curly, tousled, and short hair and untidy clothing. The most important thing to you concerning clothing is how COZY and COMFORTABLE they are. If a piece of wardrobe doesn't have these two traits, then you will refuse to wear it. Speaking of COZINESS, did you mention you like FLUFFY things? Well, now you did.

Your interests, excluding what has already been mentioned above, are SCI-FI MOVIES, FINE ART (you have made some art pieces yourself! But you only consider a few of them actually worth anything...), HAVING FREQUENT ONE-SIDED CONVERSATIONS WITH THE STARS, and EVERYTHING RELATED TO SPACE, INCLUDING ALIENS. Oh, and you dabble occasionally in the art of CROCHET and KNITTING.

You spend the majority of your time TALKING TO THE STARS and stuffing as much SPACE KNOWLEDGE into your 7 sweep-old thinkpan as possible. You have a SHIT-TON of textbooks on astronomy, astrophysics, etc. as well as a SHIT-TON of research notes, written on paper for authenticity, typed and saved onto your husktop just in case you lose the original copies.

==> Speaking of TALKING TO THE STARS...

The stars are 99% of the time jackasses who tell you jackshit and barely ever reply to you. However, they decided to be more generous this time and actually say something to you. More specifically, they asked a random question that was had no relation to what you were rambling about whatsoever.

"Do you like to play chess?"

What the fuck is chess. You have no idea what is chess. Why are the stars asking you questions instead of giving you vague hints of the future? From the way to question is said, you assume chess is a game. You wonder if chess is a board game or some videogame. Maybe this question is supposed to be a vague hint of the future. There is nothing much you can do about it now, you'll just have to wait a bit to see what happens.

==> Examine respiteblock

You were about to examine your respiteblock until you noticed that there was a new Trollian notification on your husktop. You had left the device open while you were copying some research notes into your computer.

==> Check Trollian

Deciding that you have some time before doing the next thing to do on your schedule, you stroll up to your computer, sit down on your comfy wheelie chair, and check Trollian.

==>

Oh, it would seem that your moirail has invited you and several other of your, uh, friends to a memo. You start typing away, fingers flying across the keyboard. Your Trollian handle is nebulasEye and you l i k e   t O  g i v e   y O u r   l e t t e r s   s O m e   s p a c e   a n d   y O u r   O s   s O m e   s i z e .

Pesterlog:

==>

You probably would've made a connection to Kimoke's sudden offer of playing a game to what the stars had told you recently. You, of course, forgot to mention that you are pretty FORGETFUL. You had become distracted by your husktop, and thus, you forgot to record your "star conversation"....

Oh well, your "star predictions" are inaccurate or trivial most of the time anyways. You're trying your best to improve them, you just have absolutely no fucking idea how.

[Sir Realism]

==> Become the idiot who's rocking out waaay to hard.



You've switched to a sick fucking rocker with mad talents, hell fucking yes! He's rocking one of his signature songs with his band of robots he's made, they all kinda suck though since the last time you updated them with your own musical talents was sweeps ago. Your name is POPIKO PANTAS, you fucking love sarcasm and rock. You speak With the shittiest fucking grammar ever,
god you suck right... that was sarcasm?! Anyways, you've got the skills and and the kills... or whatever.

==> Take a break from the infinite jamming.

You shut down your robot supports and wipe yourself with a pour cleanser, moments later you realize a notification has appeared on your husktop.

==> Reply

Before you can reply your SCREECHBIRD enters the room and demands you refill the birdfeeder, you slowly turn around at its ear piercing demands, flinching at each caw. You attempt to tell them you'll do it later... It doesn't take too kindly to that. It flaps its massive wings and lands on top of your robotic drummer, briefly inhaling before screeching repeatedly with all its might. You attempt to screech back at it only to be drowned out by the annoying caws, you eventually give up and go downstairs to refill the birdfeeder.

[hereticalTophat]

==>Be the dapper top hatter?

Haven't we met before? Well, we did, in the future. But right now, we have not met. Whilst this makes no sense, you've been anticipating playing this game for quite some time now. So, hurry along with the introductions?

==>Introduce oneself.

Your name is EKLIAT BODRIG. You too have been 7 sweeps of age for quite some time now, to the point where it's effectively common knowledge. Your trollian tag is homologousTophat and you type Wit|-| perfect grammar, alt|-|oug|-| certain words may become |-|at related. You're a big fan of fashion, but you've always really been too busy to design your own clothes. Other than that, you're a real big fan of a multitude of games. So when Sgrub was announced, you had already thought of a strategy for how to get each and everyone of your subordinates to play it with you- in case they didn't want to already.

==>Subbordinates?

You don't exactly know your 'chums' all that well. Considering you're the highest blood of them all- and by a large margin- you really don't know if you should even be seen with them unless they're doing a task for you. So whenever anyone is looking, you refer to them as such as to not sully your reputation amongst other higher blooded trolls.
You simply, platonically, hated most of the higher blooded trolls. Not even their attitudes but ugh.

In your opinion, lower bloods were much more fun to talk to and berate with insults.

==>Respond to brown-blooded and yellow-blooded subordinates.

Pesterlog:

Nothing like some good ol' highblood aggression to kick off the night.
This was going to be a day to remember.

((I'll fix up any colour code corrections later.))

[cealvan]

==>be the mid-blood

he looks to be quite busy right now, as he usually is. let's not bother him. he seems to be Cleaning out a bathroom right now, although, to be honest, he seems to be hurrying through it a bit as if he has something more important he wants to do later, although what could it . . .
wait, this is new for him, he has actually stopped and pulled his phone out of his pocket. maybe he isn't so busy after all, let's see if we can get a name
==>enter name
Atalis Atisen
==>be Atalis
. . .
Atalis ignores the command, but maybe if we watch what he is typing we can get an idea of what's going on in his head.

Pesterlog:

well, that would explain what he is excited for, the game that everyone is talking about, who knew this kid actually played games?

Atalis then sticks his phone back in his pocket and continues cleaning the Restroom working as hard as before.

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Switch back to the space fanatic

It would seem that during the period you had switched away from said space fanatic, she had suddenly spaced out. The young troll, all cozy in her black jacket, blankly stares up the ceiling. Plentiful questions rush through her head, questioning whether or not reality is actually an illusion and pondering her future. The future in which she will probably be forced to become a helmsman once she reaches adulthood. Fated to be mentally strained until she becomes a mindless zombie and has all her hard earned knowledge stripped away.

==> ....Second-person please.

Oh yea, you're still talking to your little gang on Trollian. You should get to replying, especially since EKLIAT just displayed some HIGH-BLOOD AGGRESSION and some BOSSY ATTITUDE, which you do not appreciate in the slightest. You are now even more willing to avoid playing this... SGRUB game just to spite her. However, you are curious as of what SGRUB is. You don't really keep up with gaming aside from rarely FLARPing.

==> Type away

Pesterlog:

==>

Normally, you wouldn't be this rebellious towards high-bloods or mid-bloods. You are not a fan of the blood caste system (you're actually pretty neutral to it), but even you know that insubordination towards high-bloods will result in culling or, at the minimum, a bloody ass-kicking. However, you know Ekliat just enough that she most likely won't fuck you over for sassing her, but you believe that she has probably thought about it at least once.

As for what Atalis said... You have no idea what he is talking about.

==> Check your handy reminders book.

You swiftly grab the little journal you keep next to your husktop, in which you write down important reminders, and flip to the most recent notes. Your golden eyes scan the page, you do not find any note mentioning that they were going to play a game called SGRUB. You assume either you have forgotten to record it or Atalis misunderstood whatever they had said earlier.

==>

You close the little journal with a resounding "SLAP". You slide the book away from your husktop and focus on the device once again, continuing to copy your research notes onto your husktop. You still have a few sheets of research left to type up and would like to finish them as soon as possible. You don't know when you'll somehow lose your written research, after all.

==> Examine respiteblock

Oh, that. That thing you were going to do earlier.

You pause your work to examine your respiteblock. The walls have been colored to mimic the beauty of Alternia's night sky, painted by yours truly. The art on your walls is one of your proudest works of art, it's probably the best thing you have made. You, of course, have made other works of art as well, the decent to good pieces being hung up on the walls and the failures residing in your dross coffer. Other than your art, a few sci-fi movie posters are hung up too, including one of your favorite movie with a title too long to read out, but it stars Troll Weaver, if that helps identify it at all.

You have a bookshelf for your textbooks next to your desk, but the majority of them are left in a dangerously tall stack on your other desk because you sometimes get too lazy to put the textbooks back on the bookshelf. The desk you sit at now is reserved for your husktop.

And then there are a few other things that aren't really important enough to describe right now, like your recuperacoon, a few loose research notes lying on the floor, and the bizarre-alien-winged-spider-thing doll you made a sweep ago.

==> Continue typing research notes

Deciding that you're done with examining your room, you continue typing up research as you wait for someone else to reply to the memo.

[Thrillho]

==> Recite the notes!

PSYCHE! That shit is for NERDS!

==>

You are again the bronze-blood, KIMOKE, and currently you...are away from your HUSKTOP? It seems like everytime you try to pay attention to the chat, you're distracted by something else. Everyone started resorting to bickering, which to be honest isn't your cup of tea to read first thing in the night. Instead, you stare outside into the forrests surrounding your hive. Your LUSUS returns with a catch from the looks of things..

==>

Yeah...You try to stay as tough as the big man himself. You already proved that you're worth the effort of being fed since you turned FIVE SWEEPS OLD. -At that point, you were able to not only best the old bastard in a wrestle, but as well as survivng for an entire hellish sun-filled day to boot. In short, you'll never be doing that stuff again. You only did it for the experience and nothing more!

==>

That seems like more than enough time for you to stand around. You move back to the chat and decide to vouch for the highblood. You aren't sure if they told anyone about the game being today, but...you felt like today was the right day so it couldn't hurt but to assure to your MOIRAIL that all is good.

Pesterlog:

==>

You enjoy your friends, you really do, but man. They are a tough bunch to keep together. You try your best, but sometimes you need time for yourself too! -Like now for instance! You exit your respiteblock to explore your HIVE. The sounds of your LUSUS chewing away at the recently caught corpse fills the construct. It's better not to disturb the KING OF THE HOUSE while he's having his meal. The guy can be a little...cranky when he's doing stuff like that.

==>

Exiting your abode, you take note of the trail of OLIVE BLOOD consuming the pathway. Great. You'll clean it up later for sure...

You trot over to your FARM which in all honesty is kinda dreadful. It's what happens when you forget to tend to it like you do. Things still grow here surprisingly and now that you're nearby, you might as well take care of it! This'll take awhile..

[hereticalTophat]

==>Be slightly inconvenienced.

You strain your eyes as the text appears on the screen. To be expected, you always knew that at least one of your subordinates would fail you. Not to worry, though. You already thought of everything.

==>Reveal plan.
As an expert in everything you attempt, you had also made an effort to learn about the likes and dislikes of your subordinates in an attempt to find out what to earn their favour with if you upset them. For Astero's case, it was fairly obvious. The girl likes space, and you have money.

Your first idea was to organize a trip for her to go into space and explore one of the nearby planets. But not only was it out of the question as even you don't have enough influence for that kind of shenanigan (currently, just need to hand a form in) but you also need Astero to play today and now. Not after she's done frolicking around in space.

So you got something else for her, the best telescope money could by without having a whole room dedicated to it. Glistening with gold, with exquisite patterns of various constellations etched into it. Better than that, it was actually functional! You had tried it out prior to it's reveal and it... Seemed to work, anyway. You're not the space-enthusiast here anyway. But you are sure to be a successful gift to persuade her. And if not... Well, you suppose there were other ways of convincing people.

==>Initiate Phase 1: Reveal

Pesterlog:

That should have to do for now. But on to phase 2.

==>Initiate Phase 2: Bribe.

Pesterlog:

That was sure to be subtle enough to garner some form of interest. If not then you could fire some cannonballs into her hive.

... Oh god you loved cannons. And ships. Especially ships with cannons, specifically ones with cannonballs in them. Your trusty handcannon was one such device, and it was currently sitting- quite happily- in your strife specibus.

[Sir Realism]

==> Return from a thorough screeching.

You're back! Just in time to see that everyone's up to something you wonder what the hell is going on. Oh great, you just HAD to mention HELL didn't you. You stare over to your HELLGRUB 2 poster and shed a single red tear for the gauntlet bearing champion. You've been mourning the loss of the writing team of "HELLGRUB 3", who were all murdered after making a highblood joke that the highblood's couldn't get. It has to do something with fishsticks or something. Anyways you're fucking depr- HAPPY! This day just couldn't get better could it !:? You'd better respond to your pals before the sa- JOY sinks in.

Pesterlog:

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Return of the Space-Enthusiast

As soon as you see notifications popping up from the Trollian application, you swiftly finish typing up a sheet of research notes and switch to the Trollian tab. Your lookstubs slowly move left and right as they read the colorful text. The words of your moirail seem to be almost successfully GUILT-TRIPPING you into playing the game. And it looks like you did, unsurprisingly, forget to write down a note that today would be GAME DAY. Typical, typical, you.

It probably WOULD be good if you spent a little time with your friends to play a game. Your MOIRAIL is depending on you, after all! It may not seem like it, but you actually do your best to dedicate time to those in your quadrants. Not so much with friends, but you do chat occasionally.

==> Reply

Before you reply, you notice that Ekliat, the high-blood you semi-sassed earlier, has made a few more replies to the memo. You skim through her words and you can't help but raise an eyebrow. What is that sea-dweller planning now?

==> Check private messages

You follow her instruction and check your private messages. There, you see Ekliat's attempt at persuading you into playing SGRUB, whatever that is. And by "persuading you" you mean "bribing you". It's already clear to you that the high-blood is bribing you, you sort of already expected this from what you know about Ekliat. But, honestly, you don't mind at all. Being bribed may seem dishonorable to others but hell, wouldn't you like a new and better telescope that is free and therefore affordable? You spend most of your money on collecting TEXTBOOKS that contain knowledge on SPACE if that wasn't already obvious. Therefore, your diet as of now is mostly restricted to not really tasty and/or not really healthy foods. You decide to not to let the others know that you'll agree to play the game and take advantage of Ekliat's offer.

==> Respond to the sea-dweller.

Pesterlog:

==> Free up some space in your schedule.

You reach out to a little canary-yellow notebook lying next to your reminders book, grab a pencil, and start editing your schedule for this perigee. You suppose you can finish copying documents onto your computer and reviewing textbook sections at a later time. With a good 18 seconds of rearranging and erasing, you finish editing your schedule and have freed up today to enjoy playing a game you've never heard of with your friends.

==> Reply to memo once again

Upon finishing your schedule editing, you type a reply to the memo, seeing that Popiko has finally decided to respond.

Pesterlog:

[Thrillho]

==>

The outside--

The endless sea of trees in contrast to the twilight sky above makes for an envious view that many would kill to have. The hive that you constructed sweeps ago is a prime piece of real-estate that in time will be renovated in time for some other poor pupa who treads through. Although you don't regret your installation in this part of the planet, the lush wildlife that surrounds you awaits for the day that you finally mess up. It was as if it's blood-lust was enough to turn the skies above into a light shade of burgundy.

You have no intention on messing up anytime soon, though...With the plants you've been tending to finally being given it's proper meal and medication, you decide to roam around just a bit more to allow your mind to wander. The metaphorical shackles given to you by both your comrades and the Empress abroad prevent you from going too far. One day you hope to be released from that, but for now...it's something you've come to deal with.

==>

Your MOIRAIL is a tough cookie to deal with and even with all your attempts to help them, they always seem to do something else that calls for your attention. You wouldn't say that you don't care for them at all, but...you wouldn't be too terribly sad If they ended up going quiet for awhile. -God..

==>

You bring your hand to your face, covering up a pained expression. If you don't keep her and that highblood in check, maybe one day she really will go quiet. You aren't really ready to deal with that to be honest...you may act like you wont care, but If you dont show some emotion you might lose your friends for good. That's a terrifying thought..

==>

Eventually your eyes trail back up to the moons and stars in the sky. Like ASTERO would say, the outer reaches of space are truly beautiful. Maybe you too could one day achieve that level of freedom...--As your thought ends, a gust of wind hits you and chills you to the bone. It's about time to go inside anyways.

You trail off, placing your hand on the knob for a brief moment before turning behind you....

A weird feeling overwhelms you. It's almost as if something is trying to warn you.

==>

You feel like today is going to be a really long day. -Whatever. Bobbing and weaving through the mess that was your hive, you return to your HUSKTOP to respond to whatever the hell has been going on since your absence.

Pesterlog:

[hereticalTophat]

==> Respond to memo.

Pesterlog:

That should sort out that problem. Now, on to phase 3.

==>Initiate Phase 3: Tempt

Pesterlog:

You stand up from your husktop and examine your room. Despite having known you for so long, we have yet to see what your hive looks like.

==>

Your hive is located on a beach, somewhat nearby some other highblood houses of lesser importance to you and the story. During the night, most of it is submerged under the water due to the high tides. Not that you mind, as that can prove fruitful- for some unsuspecting aquatic life to come too close, only to meet an untimely end with a cannonball. This means that most of the interior of your hive, is also at least partially submerged.

It's shaped like a dome, with one rectangular room protruding out of one side and towards the land. This is where your door is, unless you make another one. Which is ill-advised. Despite yourself being one of the higher ups on the hemospectrum, you never bothered to expand your hive that much sky-ward and instead went lower into the depths. Turns out you don't need that much room when your favourite past-times are all outside-based.

The interior is decorated highly with the finest of arts that you really could not care less about. Turtle Mother seems to like them, though.
But currently you're in your Respiteblock, the only room without any art of such caliber. But it does contain other items. Not only does it contain the telescope you mentioned many times before, but more significantly a wardrobe filled with all sorts of articles of clothing. You have another wardrobe near your door- so that they don't get wet, as certain items are not yet waterproofed.

You... Haven't actually made any of these yourself. But you are working on one! It's just slow progress, and usually you're too busy playing FLARP or hunting for your lusus to care.

==> Captchalogue telescope.

You do so, and watch as it's put inside of a cup. With every centimeter you travel, the cups are shuffled around and it's up to you to randomly guess where the item you're looking for is. You do the same to your husktop. You currently have an antique telescope, a Troll Will Smith poster, and a couple of spare cannonballs. You certainly hope that when the time comes, you're able to guess correctly. Dropping a cannonball through is not that ideal!

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Give up attempting to take advantage of EKLIAT's offer

Seeing that your attempt at mooching off EKLIAT, despite said sea-dweller previously seeming very intent on doing whatever she can to get you to play the game, had failed almost immediately, you decide to stop pushing your luck and accept what EKLIAT has offered. You had pondered asking for art supplies too... But it's most likely that she would deny that too.

You despise that pompous fish-shit but... Maybe you were asking for a little too much? EKLIAT did say that it did take quite a bit of suffering and time to acquire this "particular" telescope. Oh well, maybe you will find the opportunity to mooch off EKLIAT in the future. And by the future you mean never.

==> Respond to the troll you have dubbed as FISH-SHIT

Pesterlog:

==> Return to the memo and defend yourself from the double-roasting

You aren't going to defend yourself because you know that KIMOKE and, unfortunately, EKLIAT are justified in scolding you. It was YOUR FAULT that you forgot to write down in your REMINDERS BOOK that today was GAME DAY. But you decide to joke around with your MOIRAIL a little bit.

==> Stop copying research onto your husktop

You guess that would be enough for today. You will try to enjoy this time to play a fun GAME with your friends and, uh, EKLIAT! Anyways yea shut up and respond to the memo.

==> Respond to the memo and JOKE AROUND a bit with your MOIRAIL

Pesterlog:

==> ...?

You turn away from your HUSKTOP to when you hear the familiar rumbling and deep growling of TENDRILMOM, your LUSUS. You shimmy out of your wheelie chair and move with haste to your window to see what could be wrong. It's... not the same rumbling that TENDRILMOM will usually make when they're about to screech. It sounds... worried..?

==>

You open your window and stick your nugbone out to gaze at your large and tendril-y LUSUS. They're... soaring in tight circles above your HIVE. Huh... They would usually be patrolling the area WAY farther out than where they were right now. What's got them all worked up? They keep clicking.

==> Call out to TENDRILMOM

The wind tousles your unruly black hair as you call out for your LUSUS to float on next to your window so you can try to soothe them. Despite your calls, they seem to ignore you and continue to let out clicks of worry as they fly in circles right above your HIVE. Something... isn't right.

Dialogue:

==> Head up to the roof

With swiftness, you use TELEKINESIS to easily levitate your HUSKTOP and carry it with you up to the roof with you, carefully moving it through the hatch as you climb the ladder. Upon reaching the roof, you crane your nugbone up to look at your LUSUS flying above. You call for TENDRILMOM again, and they listen this time. They descend a little bit and start circling at a height at which you're able to leap onto them.

==> Leap onto TENDRILMOM

You do that just that, making the jump with a clumsy landing. And then, you sit down, crossing your fronds and using TELEKINESIS once again to gently set your HUSKTOP on your lap. TENDRILMOM's clicking seems to have lessened, but there still remains a few concerned clicks every now and then as they circle your HIVE. You run your prong tenderly across a small area of the smooth back of TENDRILMOM in an even rhythm as you flip open your HUSKTOP. You hope your presence manages to gradually calm down TENDRILMOM... You're not sure what's wrong with your LUSUS, they would've let out a glass-shattering screech if they were even slightly hungry....

Something... continues to not feel right. The gentle breeze does jackshit to ease you.

[hereticalTophat]

==>Sneak around Turtle Mother.

You silently swim around your currently sleeping lusus. You had gotten back from hunting a little while ago- so if she saw you going out of the water again she'd probably freak out. You decide to make this quick. After sneaking out the door to your hive you step on to the beach outside- just in case you choose your cup wrong. Fortunately you don't, and the Telescope is settled down on to the ground.

==>Take out husktop.

Nope, three cannonballs crash on to the sand- nearly crushing your feet. Whatever, you'd pick them up later. After taking out your husktop, you use the built-in camera to take a picture of it. Hopefully this should convince Astero to play. As you go to respond to her private messages, unfortunately you do not look at the memo first and do not catch that she was willing to play.

==>Send picture to stupid-star-gazing-girl.

Pesterlog:

You send her a picture of it in all it's glory. It would be sure to seal the deal.
Even though you're unaware of this, it was possible for Astero to see your current position- awkwardly holding a husktop in an attempt to take a picture of the telescope, before shifting it around to type with one hand.

With all this going on she didn't exactly have time to respond to the memo, though presumably would've added some snarky comment proclaiming victory or whatever.

[Thrillho]

==>

You are THOPEZ ORKAVE and god damn are you JUST SO GODDAMN PUMPED. Literally every fiber of your being is feeling great to be alive right now. It's been awhile since you've actually discussed to your tightly knit friend group. -Most of the reasons being that you've been out COLLECTING KNOWLEDGE and LIVING IT UP. This leads you into your INTERESTS.

You're really into LYRICAL MASTERPIECES or in laymans terms: EXPERIMENTAL RAP. The thought that people put their deep and inner feelings in a philosophically rich piece of music is something you can really get behind! ROMANTIC MOVIES also fit the bill of emotionally packed pieces of art! In general, you're a very emotional person that likes to make a big deal out of anything that comes your way! So whatever your friends like, you like to BE A LITTLE BIT BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE in that specific thing they do!

-Except music. You hate learning how to do dumb shit like getting into an instrument. Singing and stuff is cool, but fuck everything else. Anyone that's willing to move out of the norm to get their feelings across are people you respect! One of them is your MOIRAIL! -Though getting into that bucket of worms is a little dangerous for now.

Besides your interest in art, you are also deeply invested in ALTERNIAN HISTORY. The war, the bloodshed and even the destruction done by the fleet for universal conquest is amazing. Anarchy is the best way to live sometimes. Let everyone free is what you say! Everyone else may differ, but you are LOYAL as all get out. Even if you look selfish in what you do, you know that it's for the betterment of everyone else and nothing will get in the way of your goals! One day you'll be the perfect PROVOSTOCKAIDER.

For now, you stick to tending to your besties on TROLLIAN, of which your trolltag is concurrentGrungeand you dont reΔLLY FOLLOW ΔNY sh1tty QU1RK 1n pΔrt1culΔr, 6ut speΔk w1th CONV1CT1ON!!

==> Zoom Out

Your RESPITEBLOCK is actually fairly clean looking! You have a musical set-up, equipped with a nice CONDESOR SOUNDOPHONE, an EXTERNAL AUDIO-INTERFACE, and a nice husktop setup to hold all of the samples of sounds from your travels! Most of this was a phase you had as a wee pupa when you started hanging out with your MOIRAIL in order to emulate them. Sometimes you go about using it, but since you don't use convential beats or a proper flow, noone actually likes it.

Fuck all of those guys. One day you'll get big on AUDIOCLOWN and join the ranks of your other friends.

Other than that, you have a few posters of your favorite groups and artists. ANGRYFELLON, DANNI BRAUNE, GRANGE STARRE, and more past that. A wall of books joins them. Most of them being a few journals of famous historical figures and poetry books that you use for sicknasty inspiration in your songs. -Oh and your old ALUMINUM BAT from some random sap you had to kill for your lusus....right...

==>

You are reminded of your thorn in your side. The large BORFBEAST that resides in the bottom of your HIVE constantly kills any wandering creature around your abode. As such, the outside constantly reeks of blood and viscera at all times. In some seasons, the population of food dwindles to the point that you have to actually go about and 'hunt' for any poor sap that comes to explore.

Everyone is aware that you do this, so you can't exactly hide from it. You don't regret doing it though! You wanted to live more than those idiots, so that's why you've won in every battle! Some even go as far as to say you're a natural born warrior in some respects! -But only in some...

==>

Anyways...you move over to your husktop and see you're friends neglected to invite you to a MEMO! You send an invite to your moirail and that other shortie while you're at it, since they seem to have only recently popped online.

Pesterlog:

==>

Due to your constant adventuring, you always seem to be out of the loop in your friend group...it sucks.

[furry garbage]

==> Be the burgundy-blood.

You are now CIRICE SENIAH, the completely real, GENUINE burgundy blood with absolutely nothing wrong with you whatsoever. It seems you have just been invited to a MEMO by your friends.. Err.. One of them, at least. It is not often that you are invited to these kinds of things, preferring to do more PRODUCTIVE tasks over petty little conversations.

You like to think of yourself as a very professional troll, and only have the most mature of interests despite your young age. You thoroughly enjoy taking part in activities such as SLEEPING for 12 HOURS STRAIGHT, LEVITATING PENS around your office with what telekinetic powers you have, and SWOONING OVER CONVERSING with your BOSS every so often. You are a very interesting troll.

Your TROLLIAN handle is burgundyBlowzed and you tend to keep things short and straight to the point. you don't have time for silly, wiggler-ish quirks.

==> Zoom out.

Your RESPITEBLOCK and OFFICE both reside in the same hive that once belonged to the EMPRESS herself, the sound of feet shuffling outside of your door just barely audible. You liked to keep your block rather tidy, aside from the stacks of BOOKS scattered about the room and on your desk. Those were just your trademark items.

You are currently sitting at your desk infront of your STATE OF THE ART husktop, which just so happens to still be beeping and buzzing at you to respond to the aforementioned memo. Perhaps it'd be a good idea to check it out right about now?

==>

Pesterlog:

[Sir Realism]

==>

Popiko writes a response while thinking some sick beats to throw down for ARITHMATICHOLIDAY's new album. Yes, you use your chumhandle as you're bands name... well was your bands name. It's more so a stage name now that everyone's dead. Fuck, now you're depressed.

==> Indulge in Sopor Slime

You initially didn't even realize this shit did stuff to you at first to be honest. The only reason you ate this stuff originally was to impress some highblood asshole at a party who demanded that you DJ or else he'd cut off your fingers, but now you intoxicate yourself casually to help with the nerves and pai-INCREASE IN JOY HAHA NOBODY'S SAD HERE.

==> Reply

Pesterlog:

A song you made sparked some controversy awhile back. You really gotta be careful with ACTUALLY playing what you want to play. Some of those emotions gotta stay hidden for everyone's sake.

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Answer FISH SHIT

The pinging of your HUSKTOP snaps you out of your daze and you set your sights on the screen of your HUSKTOP once again.

Unease nags at your THINKPAN and settles in your ACID TRACT like a stone. You want it out, you want it to stop. Unfortunately "unease" is not a physical object. It's not exactly easy to get rid of something that's not physical...

You give the head of your LUSUS a brief glance, they're only facing forward as their long body moves in a wave-like motion, calmly soaring around your HIVE. Despite the convincing facade of tranquility.... you can telll that your LUSUS is becoming more uneasy too. Their clicking and rumbles have increased.

You set aside your apprehension and get to replying to the violet-blood. A smirk sneaks its way onto your lips when you see EKLIAT'S mildly amusing expression and awkward position as she attempts to take a photo of the EXQUISITE looking telescope. You have to say, you're pretty impressed. You didn't expect EKLIAT to go her way to get you such a thing, even if it was to bribe you. You two are not exactly on good terms after all.

Pesterlog:

==> Check on the memo

After lightly picking on FISH SHIT, you check the memo once again to see that two other trolls you've forgotten about join the conversation. The excitable one and the... chill one? THOPEZ is nice enough but can be a little overwhelming for you. You don't know much about CIRCIE but you know she doesn't "beat around the bush" and has to deal with working under the EMPRESS so you hold some respect for her for that.

Oh, and POPIKO's back.

You don't really have anything to say in the memo and thus you type nothing. You'll probably reply again if KIMOKE or EKLIAT says something or when they actually start playing the game.

==> Give the night sky a long stare

You do, and you begin to wish you brought your art supplies and something to paint on with you, you feel like capturing the beauty of ALTERNIA's night sky once again. You'd probably have to paint while you're on the roof of your HIVE though, don't want to accidentally spill paint on your LUSUS' back.

[hereticalTophat]

==> Be the almost-highest-blood.

Once again, you're Ekliat. And you're slightly embarrassed. Then again, you could not predict that she'd be flying on her weird tendrilly lusus. So you don't blame yourself too harshly for that.

You have to admit though, despite how passive it is, it's pretty interesting whenever she gets the guts to stand up to you. Despite the grubbish insults she spews out, which totally pale in comparison to your own insults, you find yourself enjoying yourself whenever you talk to her- which you hate that you do. Because you're essentially playing into her hand. At least you're aware of it, not like what you were like a sweep ago.

==> Respond to Assteroid.

You may as well respond and get this slightly awkward confrontation over and done with.

And no, you've got no idea what an 'ass' is. That nickname won't work either...

Pesterlog:

With that shitfest out of the way, time to read up on the current happenings of the rest of your subordinates.

==> Respond to memo.

Pesterlog:

You decide to pick up the telescope, and head over to your mail-cannon.

==> Examine equipment.

Considering the mail service is super slow these trying times, you decide to send packages to your subordinates via the mail-cannon. Once upon a time, as a young troll, you had decided to see exactly how many parachutes one could buy in one go. You had not expected, a couple of nights later, a giant pile of parachutes in a heap at your doorstep. So you had redesigned your front-door cannon to become your mail-cannon.

==> Ready Telescope.

You attach one of your parachutes to the telescope on your first try to create a telescope-chute. These knots aren't a match for your mits.

==> Load cannon.

You put the telescope-chute into your mail-cannon, and then aim it towards Assteroid's hive.

==> Distraction?

Your Lusus has woken up, and has barged through the door of your hive. She seems rather distressed, and you're about to speak before she lurches forwards with a surprising amount of speed- and plonks you on to her back. You're not very happy with this development.

[furry garbage]

==> Express displeasure.

You are once again CIRICE, who is slightly more miserable than usual. As you watch your friends reply to the memo, there is both mention if another heiress and your boss. You haven't been allowed to speak about the private views of your EMPRESS for as long as you can remember, but do like to slip little hints here and there about what really goes on behind the scenes. As for the HEIRESS.. You really would rather not have her dragged along. You find her to be OBNOXIOUS and A POSER, "fighting" for lowblooded rights and all that jazz. She's even completely denied her role in society and began to.. IDENTIFY as one? You didn't know, and frankly; you didn't care.

==> Respond to memo.

Pesterlog:

==>

That was a vague enough response. Knowing Poppi, he'd likely try and dig more into it, but he wasn't going to get very far that way. Your mind was a fortress as strong as the castle you currently sat in, waves crashing against it day and night.. Though completely unbreaking. Of course, the castle had the staff to keep it in tip-top shape, which you were grateful for. Without them, you'd be laying in a watery grave.

==> Check blog.

Since you were now free for a few minutes since responding, you decide to check your personal blog where you post every few hours. You are the ONLY official in the building allowed to have said blog, since you run Jaivyn's as well to give updates on recent politics and other issues. The EMPRESS can't be bothered with such things, as she is out CONQUERING THE STARS like a badass-- Though actually trying to repair FOREIGN RELATIONS with other species across the galaxy. Those could definitely be doing better.

==> Sudden interruption.

You jump as someone bangs on your door, barking at you to get those papers done in a harsh voice. This wasn't a rare occurrence, but it still managed to scare you every time. You.. Should actually really get on doing those. Blogging and responding to the memo was something for later in the day.. You'd get on it eventually.

[ZoozooKinkajou]

==> Oh hello again.

Oh hey look you're ASTERO again, staring blankly at nothing, or the sky, it's pretty hard to tell.

==>

You blink a few times as you pull yourself out of your dense forest of thoughts, stretching out your right arm, which you had been leaning on. After easing the aching of your previously strained wrist, your pupils lazily drift over to your HUSKTOP upon noticing that more notifications were popping up. You face your HUSKTOP once again as you switch to the private messages tab and read the new messages EKLIAT has sent you. You let out a quiet chuckle at the sea-dweller's disdain for the supposedly EXQUISITE telescope. You shoot a few quick messages FISH SHIT'S way before preparing to receive the telescope via FISH SHIT's MAIL CANNON.

Pesterlog:

==> Move you and your LUSUS to a position where you can attempt to catch the package

You, being a sensible person, are of course not going to try this. You could potentially try to catch it with your TELEKINESIS but you know very well that you don't have those type of reflexes. Plus, you don't want to risk yourself getting injured by a telescope flying at high-speed. You wouldn't be too worried about your LUSUS though, they'd probably be able to shrug off the hit. Unless, of course, it hit them in the face. Or somewhere around there. You don't think you're correct in referring to that area as a face, since it's just some big mandibles and beady eyes.

==> Head back to your HIVE

Before you do, you look back to where you last saw EKLIAT, expecting her to be loading up the MAIL CANNON. What you see instead is that the violet blood has been PLONKED onto her LUSUS' back. It's a bit difficult to see her expression this far away since your LUSUS has moved a little bit in the past minutes, so you politely request TENDRILMOM to fly a little closer to EKLIAT's position. TENDRILMOM refuses with series of agitated clicks, flying closer to your HIVE and circling it for the UMPTEENTH time. Seriously, what the fuck is up with your LUSUS?

==> Message FISH SHIT once again.

Pesterlog:

==> Check on the memo

Oh look, EKLIAT has said something. You don't really have to anything worthwhile to add.

==> Space out again

You don't space out again. You've opted for being ALERT, seeing that your LUSUS is acting out of character and is gradually going SHITHIVE MAGGOTS. There could possibly be a danger looming in the horizon, but you're still not entirely sure. It wouldn't hurt to be to be VIGILANT though. ...Even if you will probably space out again no matter what.

[excitableBunny]

= =>Be… Who’s this douchebag?

Moi?

= =>Second person please

YOU are QUIIKN ALRENM. You are a COY troll that is way too into FLARPING. You love to dress up in a rockin costume and act like your original character, LOUPIN SAZALL, the ALCHEMIST.  You also love INDEPENDENT WEBCOMICS about MAGIC, as long as they have BEAUTIFUL pictures. You know the stories are rarely finished and some are even cut off in mid sent- But as long as they have nice pictures, and relatable characters, you love them all the same.

= =>Zoom out

You currently lay on your floor doodling an epic battle between Loupin and a hoard of zombie trolls being controlled by a necromancer, between pages of your brainstorming notebook. This notebook is where you keep all your ideas, headcanons, AU’s, and backstory for Loupin and your FLARPING friends. There are so many potential quadrant opportunities with these characters. But you don’t focus on that you’re, in it for the action!

Your hive is fairly neat. The only unorganized parts you can see are the bookshelves and the desk. Oh and the multitude of glass bottles stacked in the corners of your hive for your- I mean- Loupins creation of elixirs and potions.

= => Elixirs and potions?

Yeah elixirs and potions. Loupin is an alchemist after all. Loupin knows all kinds of stuff about chemicals but is still trying to figure out how to turn lead into gold. It’s one of life’s great mysteries.

You on the other hand know little to nothing about chemistry, just that when spark touch alcohol it make big fire. You do have a periodic table of elements and you’ve circled and crossed out according to what you’ve tried to use them for. You have some elements that you bought online, for a good amount of Alternian currency, laying around on your desk. You’ve been meaning to test them out as Loupin, so you could do some cool tricks at the next FLARP event.

By the way, when’s the next FLARP event?

= => I don’t know.

You go get your husktop to ask your fellow FLARPer, GA, through Trollian. An excellent account for those who want instant message. On Trollian you are known as coquettishAlchemist and you add @:*: to the beginning to every sentence. because it looks like an elixir bottle on its side.  

Interesting, you’ve been added to a group.

= =>Troll group

Pesterlog:

= => You call that trolling?

What? You say you’ve conversed with them quite well.

= => See how they respond.

You sit and wait for now, but those test tubes look so enticing.

[Plumscreech]

==> Be the highblood.

...Ekliat?

==> NO!!!

The highblood with the fancy hat! Well, the other fancy hat. And great hair!...or so you say, at least. Currently, you appear to be lounging in a massive pile of gold doubloons, like the nihilistic piece of shit you don't know you are! Despite the excellent breathing fluid circulation dual function filtration system in your hive, you are dressed to the nines in perfect military dress, complete with cape and (plastic)medals of honor on your chest. You appear to be sketching battle formations for your next great land campaign, where there will be countless casualties while you bravely lead from afar!

==> Alright then. Who the fuck are you?

Your name is FREYJA VRTUIL, a completely healthy young troll bearing an unhealthy obsession with MONEY. LOTS AND LOTS OF SHINY MONEY, which you obtained through a variety of LEGITIMATE BUSINESS VENTURES. Besides taking stock of your unfathomable riches on an hourly basis, you also spend your well-earned gold on lots of USELESS SHIT, like extremely rare pieces of deep, thought-provoking ABSTRACT ART. You occasionally dabble in some of your own art, particularly EXPRESSIONISTIC SCULPTURES and POTTERY. And when that fails to occupy your fleeting attention, military-style FLARPing is a great way to waste time and feel important.

==> Hey, what's that beeping noise?

...what noise? Fortunately, your grubpad is right by your hand, within easy notice. It seems you've missed an important conversation while you were lost in your senseless scribbles. You should probably chime in and talk to your friends.

Your chat client of choice is Trollian, of course, and you go by splendorApostate. When you talk, you rėally wanna makė surė you stay on point, until you gėt really mad and whip out thė °°°°s and °°°°°s.

Pesterlog::

==> Wallow in your spoils like a pig.

You briefly entertain rolling around in your gold in silly enjoyment, but instead elect to get up due to your back paint. You take a moment to captchalogue your grubpad. You also captchalogue several marble statues, some clay, and a spare hat, just for the heck of it.

==> Check on lusus.

The old girl's not as spry as she used to be, so now that you’re all caught up on your social life, you should probably check on her. It’s been hard taking care of her by yourself along with juggling all your business deals. You could really use a secretary. Maybe you’ll bother Cirise about your job offer again. For now, though, you better fulfill your filial duties. You hope your friends reply soon.

[cealvan]

==>Atalis respond to the memo

upon getting all his work done earllier than usual, he hangs up his uniform, and rushes out the door, as he is doing so, he takes out his phone, and catches up on the memo.

Pesterlog:

[Sir Realism]

==> Popiko: Mental breakdown.

Pesterlog:

[Sponsored content]