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The small camp clung to the edge of the scrubland bordering the largest desert on Alternia. Base had been set up on an old trade road between New Hemisect City and Chittentown, abandoned centuries ago by traders and travellers since the high-speed shuttle vehicles had opened for public use. Now, the only people who used the roads were patrol drones and trolls who for one reason or another, would rather risk the danger of the wilds than use the closely monitored public transport systems. And now, a small ragtag band of trolls were gathering here to comb the sands for a rumour.

As they arrived, they were shown to crudely erected buildings, solid enough to protect their inhabitants against the dangers of the day, but ramshackle enough to be easily dissembled at a later date. The only part of the camp that was unmovable was the remains of an old rental hivestem and speakeasy, set up for trolls travelling the roads in ages past. It was nearly gone now, with only a few blocks on the ground floor remaining. These had been claimed as the base of operations, and held what few maps of the desert were available, though since they were non-military issue, their accuracy was highly debatable.

Scattered around the crumbling heap were the portable respiblocks that made up the majority of the camp. Two trolls could sleep in the smaller ones, but the larger ones held portable recupricoons for up to five trolls. Roommates were to be chosen or chased out by each troll, and anyone looking for a higher authority to appeal to would be met with complete indifference or a slammed door. The only place there was any regulation was in the canteen, where each troll was given three rather nasty tasting but nutritious meals per day.

Apart from the rationing, the rest of the camp was a kind of barely controlled chaos, with arguments breaking out all over. The only thing keeping most of the trolls together was a mutual dislike of their government, and nervous tempers flared easily and often. Apart from bickering with each other, trolls could volunteer to keep watch on the roads, help out in the food preparation, or for those less inclined to be helpful, snoop around outside the meeting rooms or loot their fellow trolls bags. Hey, even revolutionaries need to make a living.

Helping Out

Each night there are plenty of opportunities for your troll to help out around camp. With the sudden influx in numbers, the small group has its hands full managing the new members as well as preparing itself for the desert-wide search of the hidden greenblood. A large sheet has been tacked up to one of the walls of the crumbling hive, with a list of jobs that require volunteers to help with.

Every day from April 8 till April 26 , you can have your troll choose one of the activities listed below, and write a short post of them completing the activity as well as rolling a d6. You will get points equal to the number rolled, and at the end your troll will be rewarded based on how many points you scored in total for each activity. You can get a maximum of 50 points in one activity. Feel free to roleplay two or more trolls assisting in the same jobs.

Scouts Needed
Trolls interested in exploring the desert will be given a compass, basic survival gear, a hacked military gps device, and will be asked to navigate and map a designated section of the desert. Record any wild creatures, dangerous terrain, or water sources, keep your eyes open for the ruins of old roads or signs that might help with directions, and come back safe.

Hackers Needed
We have a large supply of military devices gifted to us by our agents working in the army, however they are all protected against use by civilians. We need technologically savvy trolls to take these devices apart, find what is preventing us from using them, and get rid of it

Guards Needed
With the old traders road so near our camp, we need to be alert at all times for any army presence. Not only that, but the desert around us is home to plenty of wild beasts that might wander into our camp and attack. We need trolls to take shifts patrolling around the camp, to alert us to any of these dangers before they get close enough to spot us, and drive them away if necessary.

Training Offered
As a troll who is working to fight against the cruelty and injustice of our current system, it is important to know how to defend yourself. We have developed a special kind of martial fighting style, based around stealth, speed, and defence, perfect for if you need to get out of a bad situation quickly. Show up outside the main building at night and there will always be a member of our group willing to train any troll who wants to learn.

Hands Needed
In the kitchen! We need all the help we can with feeding so many new mouths. Unpacking supplies, cooking, washing nutrient platters, serving, and cleaning needs to be happening all the time, and while it's not the most glamorous job, we can't have a resistance running on empty! If you want to help out show up at the kitchen and we'll certainly have something for you to do.

Guard Duty

"Why are we here..?"

"... I try not to bother thinking about such things... I mean, it's a loaded question... 'why are we here?' Why is it that we, out of billions of possible DNA string combinations, were the ones that had managed to survive the race for existence. Or even approaching it as a whole of conscious thought, 'why are we here'? Is it all apart of some big, galactic ploy with a single Puppet Master hidden behind some celestial curtain or just some random mess of hi-jinks that just... happens? With no real explanation needed nor could ever be given... That's the sort of rhetorical questioning that keeps one up at night..."

"... No.. no.. I mean... why are we here... at the back of the base... I mean, I thought we were supposed to be patrolling the side roads near the canyon path..."

Janzek paused in his tracks, blinking a few times to gain a better look at his surroundings before looking over to his current sentry buddy bemusedly.

"... I thought you were leading...?"

"No I wasn't... I was following you."

"You were clearly in front of me this whole time!"

"Yeah, but I was just going with where you were heading..."

"Seriously...? That's the... but you were- HOW could you e-e-even- just WHAT?"

"Now there's no need to yell like that!"

"I'M NOT YELLing okay I was yelling but THAT'S BECAUSE I- oh, hornsacks and hoofballs... Never mind!" Janzek stammered, hastily turning back the way they had come, the other following close on his heels in silence for a while.

".. So, what's that you were going on about of a Puppet Master figure..?"

"... Uh... um... Nothing."

Scouting

That could've gone better. As things stood, a lot of things could've gone better, but this specific event detailing a run-in with a herd of wild migrating tuskbeasts followed by an involuntary traipse through a cactus field probably could have gone in such a way that wouldn't have ended in prickly misery. Janzek was not made for such outings. He was more accustomed to controlled environments with little to no room for deviance in conduct. As such, having decided to join up with a scouting team for one evening, he at least had some foresight that something could and probably would go horribly wrong.

With such a developed form of Murphy's clairvoyance, you'd think he'd learn to turn the other way and stick with what he knew, but I suppose that would also be like expecting a fly to learn from its less fortunate brethren and ignore that weird plant that seemed to close on them and subsequently eat them alive. As it stands though, the rule may as well be that 'mistakes are made so that one can learn not to repeat them and also to make more mistakes thereafter'. Unless that mistake ends up with you getting eaten or something to that debilitating degree. At least in this case, the drone managed to luck out.

=====Prompt End====

"Goddamn- where is it?!" Growling, Janzek was still searching his jacket for a stray needle that kept piercing his back as he made his way towards the encampment. "Is it REALLY so hard to ask for just ONE moment of something akin to peace?"

His answer came in the form of an angry, yet surprised voice that made him freeze in his tracks. "... Ez-Ezraal?" He answered, forgetting about the literal thorn in his side for the moment as his gaze locked in with that of the orange blood's. "I was... just... heading back... and.. and-and it's weird to see you heee- nice! NICE to see you here- I mean. I meant. 'Meant's the.. proper.. proper- what's going on then?"

Training Offered

Anyone walking by the main building that night had the unique pleasure of witnessing a tiny ball of fluff having a nervous breakdown. Said tiny ball of fluff, commonly identified as Odette Cygnet, showed up for a training session as a last resort. Not being technologically inclined, hacking assistance was out of the question. After being embarrassingly turned away from kitchen duty out of the fear that she would infect the food, Odette decided the next best thing she could do was provide assistance in guard duty, or maybe even scouting. But she knew that the others would look down on her for being so fragile, whisper behind her back, making bets about how quickly a beast would come up and swallow her whole.

So here she was, back against the wall of the main building, face and legs burrowed into her coat like a turtle hiding in its shell. Minutes passed like hours as she waited for a trainer to show up. She heard someone approach, then stop. Odette peeked her head out of her coat just barely to get a good look. This troll was practically on top of her, and literally looking down on her. Odette squeaked in surprise, caught between a rock and a hard place, or more specifically, this sturdy-as-a-rock trainer and a hard wall.

"Y'here for trainin', miss?" the troll questioned. Odette, at a loss for words, nodded swiftly. The trainer offered her a hand, and she nervously took hold of it. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was here.

Do it for the other lowbloods.
Do it for the rebellion.
Do it for the entire troll race.
They're counting on you.

Gaurds Needed

"And I can't comprehend how it was put into practice in the first place. I mean, sure the highbloods live longer and the queen has the power and responsibility of Gl'bgolyb, but whoever decided that that made them better or more important?"

"Uh huh."

"Honestly, I don't understand it. On the inside there's no difference between us. Pft, okay, that's a bad way to put it when speaking about the hemospectrum, but you understand my meaning."

Obviously, he didn't. The blueblood Taquin was talking to gazed off into the desert with a rather glassy-eyed stare. Once Taq had actually consented to join this rag-tag group of a rebellion he'd at least hoped to find others he would finally be able to share an intelligent conversation about the corrupt methods of troll societal construct with. Even if they opposed his views, it was always enlightening to hear a justification of their ways. He was hoping guard duty wouldn't be too distracting and would allow for some conversation, but apparently he had chosen the wrong troll to stand on duty with. Taquin gave the side of his companion's face a rather condescending glare, but he wouldn't give up yet. "So, why did you decide to join the rebellion, then?"

A few seconds of silence went by before the blueblood's eyes blinked back into focus and glanced over to Taquin in bewilderment. Yes, I finally shut off my rant-spigot and asked you a personal question, he thought bitterly. Surprised?

The blueblood scratched behind his horn, "Oh. Well, yeah. I don't like the idea of the hemospectrum much. I'm a highblood and all so I got the lucky end of the stick, but my redblood friend has met some rough patches because of her blood color, and I guess I find that a bit unfair? I don't know. I guess I joined for her."

Interesting.

Guards Needed

Again, on duty guarding. Which was really a fancy was of having Ezraal work of his frustrations by beating things off. He was getting angry with the talk of the hemospectrum and the inability to really do anything.
Aside from beat things up.

His technical skills were mediocre at best, and the children he'd gone a joined with well. They were children. Children he usually was on orders to 'discipline'. Of ones that probably ruined his garden patch. Annoying little shits and- no no. He had to just accept it. He'd ******** up his chance and if they wanted to try and fix it why the ******** not? He was doomed to his station unless something happened relatively fast. But that would probably takes sweeps.

Huffing, arms crossed as he glared at the empty distance. Nothing to beat up. Nothing to chase off. Gaurd duty was boring as ********. Maybe if he was lucky they would tell him to go fight something. Or Garden. He'd like that.


As Janzek spoke again, Ezraal rolled his eyes. "How is it weird? If you mean the fact I'm ditching work and doing this s**t?" He kicked at a rock, sending it flying. "Got sent to investigate, figured why the ******** not. Not like it'll be the first time I've deviated from duties. Besides, life can't get worse than it is alrady you know?" A shrug and he went over arm draping over the other troll's shoulder.

"Not much going on though. I 'm just guarding. Gives me an excuse to beat and kills things. The usual." He didn't sound particularly excited or disappointed in it. "They want equality so I figured 'why the ******** not, got nothing better to do aside from paperwork." A small grin. "******** paper work."

Scouting

Ophion had taken a bored, hasty perusal of the jobs that needed to be done at the desert camp and decided that scouting would be the best way to extract himself from the filthy hordes of low bloods that seemed to be swarming over every inch of the place. The fact that he was given a hacked GPS device was the delicious sauce on the grubloaf. “Oh wonderful~ Perhaps this will enlighten me as to where I am.” Even if he hadn’t been mildly interested in continuing this charade, he would have had no choice but to stay with them anyways given that he had no idea how to safely get back to civilization. This way, when he got bored he’d have an out.

With pleasant smiles all around, Ophion picked up his equipment to go “scout” a new section of the desert around them. Unfortunately, Ophion hadn’t expected it to actually be…work. He expected to wander around a bit, mostly fiddling with the GPS, and then return with some vague report. Instead, he found himself fending off a territorial pack of scavenger beasts. Apparently he had wandered too close to where their cubs were nesting and the entire pack decided to chase his busy little sniffnode all the way back to camp.

With a lot of foul hissing, Ophion returned his map to one of the rebel members with a less than friendly shove before returning to his hut. On the map Ophion had circled where the scavengerbeasts had been and then scribbled: Mangy nookbusters. Recommended course of action: long range culling.

Guard Duty

With the kitchen off limits and the desert being an inevitable death trap, Janzek found himself back on patrol near the canyon pass. This time actually having arrived on schedule without an odd detour of petty, paradoxically philosophical palaver, but staring up at the starlit sky, he found himself half wishing that he had decided to take the more scenic route. Word of his mutilation practise last night had spread rather quickly through the camp, setting a few members on edge. Even his current patrol partner, some random yellow blooded kid, kept giving him nervous glances to which the drone did his best to ignore.

It was turning out to be a rather uneventful night.

====Prompt End===

"Oh... oh, well that's- wait, you were given orders?!" He stared at the other quizzically, taking half a step back only to find himself in the other's hold. He couldn't completely understand if Ezraal meant that he was here on recon. work for the Hierarchy or just that he was mixing organisations. Janzek held no doubts that government knew about this rebel faction, but if they had actually planted spies in among the group, Janzek's chances at completing his own goals may have just diminished if not been wiped out entirely.

Unless they were of Ezraal's calibre. He could only hope for that.

"Eheh... Right... See, that's why I envy you. You're able to focus so amazingly well on the mundane things..." Janzek responded with a forced, pained smile as the cactus thorn made its existence known once again; completely unsure if that was even the best response. He had sort of stopped listening midway through the Ezraal's explanation as he got caught up in the panic of his earlier assumptions. Oh, well...

"Maybe I should just let you get back to that then? Sounds like important stuff..." he added, trying to weasel his way out from under Ezraal's arm as subtly as possible.


(S'cool.)