Welcome to Gaia! ::

It’s party time! There are two prompts for this contest. You may apply for either troll with either prompt (in which case please specify which troll you'd like). If you want to try for both of the trolls, you must use both prompts. Your entries don’t have to be related to each other, but it’s encouraged!



PROMPT #1 A wriggling day is an important date in every troll’s calendar—your own above all else. It’s an entire day (and night) spent commemorating the moment you wriggled your way out of your egg and into the wonderful world of Alternia. Seven hundred and eighty-eight days was a long time to wait for such revelry, especially for a troll as young as yourself! As such, you’re determined to make this sweep’s celebration one for the record books.

And you can’t have a celebration without a party. You’ve spent weeks now specifically tailoring the upcoming festivities for maximum merrymaking potential. You’ve got food. You’ve got decorations. You’ve got music and activities. Most importantly, however, you have a guest list. A party can live or die based on the mix of attendees, and you want this party to thrive, dammit.

Of course, with such an awesome party such as your own, party crashers are practically a given.

How do you handle your hosting once the party is in full-swing? Can your party-planning handle this interloper (or interlopers) or will you have to make them leave? Did you not invite this person for a reason? Is your party just that good, or did they show up for a different reason entirely?

Entries must be 250 words minimum, from the viewpoint of the party’s host, and in third person past tense. Please don’t edit your posts after submitting!



PROMPT #2 An entire sweep is a really long time to wait for your own wriggling day, you realize. None of your friends appear to be getting older anytime soon either. While your wriggling days are expected to arrive eventually, you know what’s really elusive? A damn good wriggling day party. That’s an event worth capitalizing on regardless of what time of the sweep it is.

Fortunately for you, a celebration of epic proportions seems to be going down not too far away from your current location! Less fortunately, for whatever reasons, you seem to have not been invited.

However, you’re not about to let this stop you! The party may be theirs to throw, but it’s yours to crash. How do you plan to infiltrate? Do you know the party’s host? Was there a reason you weren’t invited? What are you going to do once you’re in? What happens if you get caught?

Entries must be 250 words minimum, from the viewpoint of the party crasher, and in third person past tense. Please don’t edit your posts after submitting!

Fairytale Prompt

Once, a long, long time ago, there was nothing else on our planet exept a single egg. This egg sat on one of the poles of our planet on a small mountain, it had been laid there by a great creature that we no longer have a name for so we will call it "The Thing". The Thing was very large and so laid a very large egg, this egg was big enough to hold a lot of somethings, more somethings then you could imagine.

On a windy day the great egg of The Thing shifted and rocked, it rolled down the hill, flattening the rocks and trees as it went making a deep gouge in the mountain as it rolled down. This gouge meant that there was now dirt on the great egg. It didn't like this much, it decided when it settled down at the bottom of the mountain. It shuddered and quaked and rocked and rippled to try and get rid of the dirt, for it was an egg and could not simply brush off the dirt.

Finally the egg gave up and all was still for exactly five minutes, a whole five minutes only...then an amazing thing happened. The egg of the Thing made a tiny sound, a small crack had occurred near the top. A grumbling could be heard from within the great egg and the creature grunted and groaned and made another crack this one a little bigger. The cracking and grumbling continued until a perfect circle had been made at the top. Another shorter pause occurred, then a huge booming sound and the top of the egg exploded right off into the sky, and the mother crawled out of her egg and trampled the shell up into small, itty bitty pieces. Now the itty bitty pieces soaked up some water that lay at the base of the mountain and formed into little perfect eggs themselves. This was the mother and the first people.

No one ever knew what happened to the top of the egg but we think its still out there somewhere in space carrying our brothers and sisters in its shell, these are known as the lost ones. Perhaps one day they will be found.

Eventually the eggs hatched and the first trolls were born to keep the mother company.

Fairy Tale

Once there were a band of troll bandits, who set out to steal from the highbloods and give to the lowbloods. They dressed hemoanonymously, but rumor held that they were obnoxious do-gooders from all over the hemospectrum and were led by a blueblood named Robist Hoodin. He was a rogue of rogues, his name spoken in hushed whispers by highblood and lowblood alike. The queen's armies – led by the fellow blueblood Knotin Sherrf that would be his kismesis – scoured the land for him, killing anybody they thought might be associated with him.

That only drove more lowbloods to join his cause, and it was rumored that he had a secret city-base, either in the deep harsh slopes of Busthind or deep in the Four Frods forests depending on who told it, safe from the Queen's wrath and holding all the refugees to his cause and – also – his treasure, yet to be re-apportioned.

His exploits against his kismesis, and his attempts to rescue the Juggalo purpleblood Madine Mayiem as his matesprit from him (who also wanted her as a matesprit), have become so entrenched in legend that stories about his skulduggery and derring-do have survived through generations of lusii and trolls, despite genosides and attempts to quash it beneath propaganda. Lowbloods and rebels, of course, find inspiration in his long reign of banditry, and a few highbloods are intrigued by the amazing adventures and clear morals he had (And he was apparently quite handsome), and he has inspired many LARP campaigns.

But none of the stories remain as etched into the minds of impressionable young trolls of all castes as the tale of his gruesome end. On his final adventure, running from the law in the principality that would become Hemisect City, he was cornered by guard drones and he and his band sought shelter and safety in the basements of the young residents. By then, their adventures well known, every child's lusus had told them the latest tales and they thought that their heroic image would buy them protection in their homes.

It was not to be. The children, mostly low caste, betrayed the bandits, one by one, turning them over to the law for a paltry sum of beetles and a promise to not be immediately culled by the law (or by the Queen's lusus). They had no trial – they were killed mercilessly on stage for the queens amusement, all but his moirail, Tukken Friaar, who escaped, and Mayiem herself, who was punished and given to Knotin as a reward for his service. She never liked him, but their hate became so strong that she became his Kismesis instead, a whole other story.

But, the story goes, the ghosts of the dead bandits take revenge on the children who betrayed them every night, haunting the hives of the young and making the strange and eerie sounds – their pained cries, cruel laughter, and unpleasant knocing - that come, without source, in the day. The sort of sounds that knock and creak and wake terrified wigglers from their recouparoons and punctuate their terrible nightmares.

The ghosts, say some of the Lusii, are the source, and they will only be appeased if the wigglers are very, very good and do as their lusus tells them. Only then will they forgive that child for the crimes of long ago (though, being rogues, they will keep making the sounds anyway, just to make sure the child is still a good little wiggler).

Of course, also, they left their bastions and treasure behind, and with the dissolution of the refugees after Robist's death, they lie, abandoned and hidden, waiting for a young adventurous troll to find it... or for the rebels to use it to rise up against the caste system. Or something.

Prompt 2 – Gnarly Drinks, Dude (Tealblood)

Cocada Ackeey burst through the door to the highblood's manor, bursting a bubble of teal gum for emphasis. “We're here, bitches.” she crowed as she and her gnarly, muscled, surfer bros (and sis's) barged into the party. Though she was a tealblood and one or two of her surfer bros were blue or greenblooded, they looked – in their awesome, patterned swim trunks and muscled bodies - incredibly out of place among the neatly dressed highbloods.

Actually, Cocada was the least absurd of the bunch, but in her normal (not bad) everyday clothes she still did not belong, and she did not care. “Now the party can really begin.” There were protests as the surfer trolls made their way straight to the refreshments table before fanning out, absurdly refined treats in their tough, moontanned hands.

Cocada lingered at the refreshments table, but not to eat. As her little monkey lusus peered over her shoulder, she began to play with the variety of drinks that the highbloods had – and there were so many. She made experimental drink after experimental drink, setting them out for them to try.

Someone might have asked her to leave, but the party – with the addition of the surfers – had become very interesting and she – the most normal of them all – was ignored by all but a few who came to her, curious about the wierdly colored drinks she made. The surfers had found the live orchestra and started heckling them, getting them to play the strangest things for fear of being beaten up by their gnarly arms and, possibly, surfboards and other things.

The highbloods were, of course, in an uproar, but some of them joined in the fun. Others... others tried to get the surfers to leave. This, of course, resulted in a hearty brawl that Cocada found entertaining to watch. Being trolls, soon the party devolved into one great big brawl, everybody thoroughly enjoying themselves in a good natured beatdown.

As the chaos evolved around her, Cocada – to an insistant tug from her lusus on her ear – turned to see a seadweller, the apparent host of the party, glaring at her.

“It was a nice party before you came along, tealblood.” they snarled at her.

She smirked, “It's even better now, buddy!” she said, offering the highblood a drink as an unidentifiable hard metal object flew just over her head, “You highbloods in your nice places in the new city... you owe us surfer dudes, yeah? We gave you a badass shack and we kicked rebel butt for you! So, your new mansion here? Us.” she set the drink in their hand, “So just sit back and enjoy the fun. You know, fun. That thing you probably don't have.”

Reluctantly, they sniffed the drink. “I'll have you all culled for this.” they grumbled.

“You can try.” Cocada said smugly. She was confident in her – and in her bro's – ability to not give a s**t. Her grin broadened as the highblood drank the drink, a look of surprise coming over their gill-framed face.

“Oh! Hey! This is good!” they said, looking down at the row of 'experiments' with new interest, “Really good!”

Cocada's lusus chittered in her ear. “Yep.” she said, offering them another, “Hang ten, bro, and have fun. We're here to stay.”

They took the drink, intrigued by it's swirling contents. “Very well.” they said, with a short nod, “You may stay.”

It wasn't like the highblood had a choice.

edit by sypon: glitch is applying for only the redblood

How dare she be passed over like this! What was she supposed to do now, just...just...take it lying down? Like she was a simpering little rustblood?
Anaide looked at her gray shirt, focusing on the blazing red circular symbol on her chest. Well...okay, she kind of was rather low on the color spectrum. She still had rosy blood pulsing through her veins, but...but...that wasn't an excuse to toss her to the side like this! The little girl grit her teeth and started tossing her fluffy toys around in her foggy-eyed rage. "Stupid bubble-gum-thinkpanned jerk don' know what it's like! Him an' his ooh-lookit-me-I'm-a-teal-blood. La-di-da!" Anaide threw a hoofbeast plush to the wall. It fell to the floor with a sad squeak.

She sniffled and wiped at her face. Her mind with so many regrets, but not enough outlets for them. Sure, she could tear some toys apart and pretend they were that jerkwad of a troll...but they wouldn't bleed or cry out in pain or anything. It just wouldn't be the same. Instead, she yelled and just went into a total tantrum. She didn't care about the mess she was making by tossing stuffies and clearing off her desk before flipping it over. All she could see was red. And why would she not? Her anguish bladder was letting loose in these dismaying times.

After stomping around and screaming a little more, Anaide sunk to the ground, exhausted. Her face hurt from furrowing her brow so hard, and her teeth stung from gritting and gnashing. Her expression started to soften. Then, before she could stop herself, Anaidi was bawling like a wriggler. Just a sad ball of freckles and red fluids gushing out of her face while she wailed.


The night itself had started out okay. No hint of just how south things could get. As far as Anaide knew at the time, there wasn't much going on. Which was perfectly fine; it was nice to take a break from keeping up with different social circles for a little bit. She arrived in New Hemisect from the suburbs just around midnight, and went to a barber around the inner city for a trim. While the freckled kid would've loved to get her hair done in one of the high-end salons that all the cool trolls went to, she just didn't have the beetles or connections. At least not yet. But Empress knew Anaide was working on it. Irons in the fire and all that. For now, she could stand to go cheap.

Of course, coming out of the shop, it didn't really look like a professional had touched her hair. The 'do itself was her own handiwork, but she liked the mess she made. It was wild and the crazy dyed bangs made her stand out in a crowd. When you're a redblood, that was something of a feat and Anaide wanted to be looked at. She craved for any little extra gaze she might get. Even if most of those looks were cringes, something was better than nothing.
"I dunno 'bout you or nothin', Jeffma," she addressed the neckbeast lusus next to her while counting a cluster of currency in her hand, "but I'm kinda starvin'. Wanna get some eats?"

Jeffma moaned in response, long tongue casually going for one of the beast's nostrils.

"I knew you would." Anaide said with a cheeky smile.

The duo ended up at a sleazy diner in one of the more rundown pockets of the metropolis. Anaide sat at the counter without any fear since no one above, say, chartreuse would hang out around such a sad area. But the food didn't cost an arm and a leg and Anaide wasn't about to sacrifice so much just for a meal. Sure, there were skitterbeast traps littering the corners and the countertop was a tad sticky, but hey, it added character to the place.
While the freckly redblood forked away some overcooked mush, Jeffma would occasionally nose at the kid's sweatpants. Anaide would respond with pulling a peppermint out of her pocket, unwrap it, and hold it out for Jeffma's gray tongue to snap up.

Anaide took her time leaving shadytown, and continued that same pace with walking around the city a little before heading back to her hive in the suburbs. She loved everything about New Hemisect, from the noises to the crowds and just how dirty the scene was despite how everyone tried to make it look so good with being Alternia's largest city and imperialistic to boot. The streets were still littered with trash, and the high-end shopping districts were side-by-side with the ghettos.

But even with her love for the grime, she did stop and stare at many huge hives that made up the city fringes. It's not like her own home wasn't comfortable. Empress knew it had to be better than being shoved into a hivestem with trolls living above you, below you...and neighboring stems all around for streets and streets. Suburbia was almost nice for a redblood like herself, and yet she still envied the blue-blooded architecture she passed by with her lusus. So much space. What did they do with all of it? What could one troll do with all those extra blocks? It's not like she didn't have high-class friends to ask about it, but, sheesh, tact. She'd rather be invited than invite herself like a tacky commoner, but it was surprisingly hard to get her leg in the door, so to speak.

She paused by some of the gated hives. Who needs gates when they could bribe wanna-be soldiers as security? Was it so nice inside that they had to worry about looters? Couldn't they just buy replacements if they were robbed anyways? Anaide rolled her eyes and moved on from the gigantic hives to the moderately oversized. Jeffma trailed along behind in the meantime.
As Anaide walked further and further from the city, she could pick out some hives among others; while she had never been inside any of the noble class's abodes, there were plenty of times when she walked with a cluster of highblood friends to their neighborhood here before continuing on by herself. And, of course, there was always gossip among the others about trolls she never met and their residences. Plenty of intrigue to be had in this semi-gated community.

The hives shrank as she meandered along, crunching peppermints that she would occasionally toss into her mouth. She shared with her lusus, too, of course. Jeffma would moan in thanks or let her tongue loll out and go back to her utter complacency.

While the community's hue went from deep blue to a bit more turquoise, the ambience grew, startlingly enough. And here Anaide had thought she was leaving all the noise behind in the city. But, nope, the longer she was on the path, the louder it got. Soon enough she could feel it vibrate up through her feet. Strange, because she knew a few trolls who lived around here, and none of them seemed the type to jam out so hard with these kinds of beats. Curious.

"C'mon, Jeffma. Let's see what the heck is goin' on down there." Anaide pulled at her lusus's neck before turning to squint over the road towards the rowdy hive in question. Not only did she know the boy who lived there, but she had dealt with him enough to never in her wildest dreams believe he'd be the type to just...party hardy for no reason.
If ever.

Something was up, and she was getting to the bottom of it. Let the snooping begin.
Anaide was small enough to sneak over to the shrubberies; her lusus however had too much neck and not enough direction if Anaide wasn't giving her orders. Help these days. Oi vey.

Sneaking around the topiary around a corner, she checked out the front door from a hedge row. Anaide snorted at what she saw. There were honest-to-Gl'bolyb bouncers looking over invitations handed over by scant few guests. Either this was an exclusive gig or the host had fewer real friends than she thought. Anaide sniffed, hoping it was the latter. She would've come if she knew there was something going on tonight. Considering that said guests carried colorfully-wrapped cubes of various sizes, it wasn't hard to guess what kind of gig was going on here. No other holidays were coming up, so this could only be a wriggling day party. And she had been left out somehow! The important question here was why wasn't she tipped off about the party? No one said anything all week, and she hung out with a gossipy bunch. Did they really manage to forget about the excitement long enough that he'd slip up on inviting her, to boot? Or maybe it was lost in the mail?
Anaide huffed and puffed, but refused to believe this was anything more than a mistake. Even so, she hesitated about trying to walk right in.

The bouncers at the door weren't any older than she was, and they looked more flabby in their bulk than anything intimidating. But she didn't recognize them, so they probably wouldn't know her and there didn't seem to be any guest list for them to double-check. The redblood wasn't about to risk getting into a fight over a misunderstanding. She could take these dweebs, easy, but... The wheels in her thinkpan started a-turnin'.

She went about scoping around the hive again, stopping once she rounded to the back of it. Anaide looked up at the higher stories, checking out the windows and passing her gaze over a balcony a couple floors up.
A smile crossed her freckled face. Why bother dickering with a couple of fat-nugbones when she could let herself in? "Hey, hey Jeffma," Anaide muttered, putting a hand on her lusus without breaking her gaze from the tall hive in front of them. "I need ya t' help me with somethin'."

Anaide's efforts to climb into the semi-monolithic hive were less than grandmaster level. By a long shot. First of all, she was a bit too, well, colorful to blend in with the shadows. Considering how any other time she wanted to stick out like a sore thumb with the utmost pride, this might not have been her life's calling.

On top of that, she had a hard time keeping quiet on the way up. 'Oof's and 'uhf's as she climbed Jeffma's ridiculous neck, and even more on a bit more desperate note as she clung to the ledge and pulled herself up. Her noodle arms weren't made for this sort of hurdle, and she was quickly out of breath just making it up there.

But, hey. She was in. Anaide snickered, even as she was a huge panting mess trudging in to the hive. Time to raise the roof!

Meanwhile, Jeffma moaned as her kid disappeared from view. She wasn't used to this kind of separation, especially since it was hard to track her child what with all only being able to peer through tiny windows to search through a mass of trolls. Even with the mints Anaide tossed at the ground before absconding, the guardian couldn't be pacified. Her noises just grew more and more grating the longer Anaide was out of sight.

Between the racket Anaide made just to get through the balcony doors, and her lusus going off like a siren below, the redblood didn't have much of a chance blending in. A couple of party-goers were already staring at her and the crazy peppermint 'do she had going on as she headed for the dance floor. Handfuls joined in as she jumped and thrashed about at the music, not used to keeping a tight personal bubbles while cutting a rug. She bumped and shoved into people, making more and more of a scene until she spun half a turn, then stopped abruptly. Her eyes went wide as she stood nearly nose to nose with a certain tealblood.

He looked at her drowsily with his arms folded and one cheek bloated with his own candy. "Anai. Fancy seeing you here."

"H-hey!" Anaide squeaked. She took a step back and rubbed the back of her neck. "Didn' see ya there, buddy! Uh- h-how's it hangin'?" The little rustblood knew she'd get caught sooner or later, but she didn't expect it to happen so soon. Or, more importantly, she hadn't believed she would feel like she had gotten busted. After all, wasn't she supposed to be here?

The host just stared her down while she failed miserably at keeping it cool. He chewed a little more before finally saying, "You weren't invited." He punctuated his words with a great big bubblegum pop.

Anaide’s pathetic smile crumbled. "B-but! We're friends n' all! Ain't we...?"

"I guess, but…I still didn't ask you to come." His tone continued to be aloof, almost apathetic, even. His half-lidded gaze seemed as unaffected as ever.

"But I live right down the way a li'l n' I brought a present an' everythin'." She cracked a thin grin on top of her lie. The side of her mouth twitched a little as she added, N' yer home don' seem too dinky fer one more friend or anythin’."

"It's not,” he agreed. “But it is my wriggling day party. So I pick who gets to be here," he shrugged like it was the simplest logic. "And I didn't send you an invitation." His words were like talking to a literal wriggler. Slow and matter-of-fact. Kind of infuriating, really, considering they were about the same age. "So you should go."

"Why?"

He didn't flinch a wit when she yelled that one word. The other party guests started warily looking their way, sure, but the tealblood made it seem like she merely whispered. After continuing to look her right in the eye, he finally blinked, then gazed down at her shirt. Right at her symbol. He popped his gum again. After another long moment, he looked back up into her face.

Anaide could feel her face heat up from the moment he looked away from her eyes. By now it was on fire. She balled her hands into fists and glared at the ground. "Oh. Okay. I get it. I'm too...too red t' be at yer li’l shindig. That matters more than puttin' pumpbiscuit n' soul into our friendship. All righty." the freckle-face spat. "If that's how it is."

"You can be so loud sometimes,” he sighed as if he was telling her for the umpeenth time. "I didn't want you to freak out my best friends. Guess luck wasn't on my side with that one. Oh well."

It was true. All the blue-tinged trolls and a couple of greenies were clustered around and staring. Looking at her, some whispering. And this was going to be her first impression? Anaide swallowed back the tears. She tried not to shake too much. She looked down again and started pawing through her pockets, grabbing a fistful of whatever mints she had left. The redblood stepped forward, pulled her hands back out, and offered what she had to the host. "H-happy wriggling day," she whispered.

He just watched her for a long, painful moment. It was more like the turquoise-blooded kid was staring right through her, really. He could be looking her in the eye, but it felt more like he was focusing on her forehead. His poker face was just so, so...hazy. Like an utterbeast. All she wanted to do was smack that expression away and claw the wad of gum out of his mouth.

Instead, she mumbled a shaky, "Please." She couldn't be humiliated. Not now. Not in front of so many trolls. There would be so much gossip. Life was hard enough as-is. If she got booted out, she'd never get in another high-ish class party again. Not if she was some little obnoxious crasher. Anaide willed the boy she called her friend to have some mercy.

Forcing the gum into one cheek, he looked at the mints in her hand. He took them all in a sweep and pocketed them in his overall shorts. "Thanks." Pop. "You can go now."

FAIRY TALES B/C ALL CAPS THERE U GO

ONCE UPON A VERY DARK NIGHT WITH LOTS OF DUMB THINGS HAPPENING BECAUSE BACK IN THE OLDE DAYS NOBODY HAD INVENTED ANYTHING YET, SEVERAL TROLLS WERE ATTEMPTING TO THINK. A NOVEL CONCEPT, EVEN GIVEN OUR MODERN DAY TECHNOLOGIES. YET IN THIS PAST SO RARELY TOLD, TROLLS YOUNG AND OLD WOULD GATHER WHEN THE LONGEST NIGHT WOULD HAPPEN, (THOUGH HOW IT WAS CALCULATED NO ONE KNOWS. IT IS ASSUMED THEY SIMPLY DRAGGED EACH OTHER OR THREATENED EVERYONE TO CONGRIGATE), AND THEY WOULD PONDER THE GREATEST OF MYSTERIES.

WHY DID THE SUN HURT THEM SO?

NO SIMPLE MATTER, GIVEN THAT THE SUN BLINDS, AND BURNS AND PRETTY MUCH KILLS A TROLL DEAD. AND HONESTLY, FOR BEING FULLY GROWN TROLLS YET ABOUT AS SMART AS A WRIGGLER, IF NOT STUPIDER, THIS WAS LIKE ASKING THE MODERN DAY TROLLS TO NOT OBEY OUR GREAT AND WONDERFUL EMPRESS, ( THEY HAD A QUEEN AS OUR EMPIRE HAD YET TO BEGIN). IT JUST ISN'T POSSIBLE. BECAUSE ITS A STUPID IDEA.

NO ONE OF COURSE, HAD INFORMED THE TROLLS OF THE PAST ABOUT THIS GIVEN THEY WERE ALL STUPID.
ALL BUT ONE.
A TINY RED BLOOD WHO LOOKED UP AND ASKED WHY THE TINY NIGHT SUNS DID NOT BURN.
NOW, NO ONE HAD EVER CALLED STARS TINY NIGHT SUNS, WHICH THEY KIND OF ARE BUT REALLY, THIS TROLL WAS DOING SOME INDEPENDANT THINKING HERE. LIKE WOAH MINDS WERE BLOWN, TOPS FLIPPED, AND THE THEN QUEEN NEARLY SENT OUT THE VAST GLUB IN A PANIC.
SUDDENLY, IT WAS LIKE THEY KNEW. THEY ALL KNEW.
RED BLOODS WERE SOMETIMES TOO CRAZY, AND HAD TO BE CULLED.

NOW, MANY MANY YEARS LATER TROLL SCIENTISCTS WOULD CONFIRM THE TINY NIGHT SUNS BUT THAT WAS WITH THE FULL BACKING OF YOU KNOW, EXPLORING SPACE AND JUNK. AND WITH THE BLESSING OF THE EMPRESS.
THIS LEAD TO THE SECOND REVELATION.
SOMETIMES RED BLOODS WERE SMART.

AND THAT FRIENDS, IS WHY IF YOU ARE SMART, AND YOUR BLOOD IS LOW, YOU SHUT THE HELL UP AND ASK YOUR EMPRESS BEFORE YOU RUN YOUR MOUTH OR YOU MIGHT GET CULLED.
AND WHY THE SHITTY RED DWARF STARS ARE CALLED 'STUPID REDS' ON SHIPS.

Greenblood Prompt

It was once said that all of Trollkind were similar, if not the same. Our blood was one color, our horns the same, and we held no symbol nor did we care who our ancestors were. There was nothing that could distinguish us, for we were all the same shades of grey and black. It is said that our lives were dull, bland, because nothing we did was different. We spoke the same, dressed the same, and worst of all, we were content to live this way. That is, until they were born.

A pair of clutch clones hatched at the start of the new cycle of the violet moon. They were normal grubs who pupated into normal wigglers and properly raised by their shared lusus. But that is where their normality ended. They didn't want to stay the same, because to stay the same meant that they had to share everything. They shared an egg, a cocoon, their hive and lusus. They wanted something that was uniquely theirs, and so, the first symbol appeared. The wiggler who hatched first created a circle with a line bisecting it. One half of the circle went to the elder, the remainder to the younger. They were content in their difference.

Until they were not. Symbols began cropping up everywhere as the rest followed the clutch clones. Their circles were imperfect and spawned variants until each family settled upon something that represented them. No longer did our race hold emptiness their hearts, for with the birth of the Symbol did a spark of emotion appear with it. Pride. Pride begat arrogance who spawned jealousy which turned to grief and sorrow. No longer a complacent race Trollkind learned anger and how it could fuel the body. War came and swept across the planet, further changing us.

Clans formed as the world was divided up and segregated. Those who were driven to the colder climates and the sea adapted to their new harsh environments. Their bodies cooled down, lengthening their life spans as generation after generation took to the seas or the mountain heights. Their diets changed their appearances just as much as the terrain did. Those who lived near the oceans grew webbing between their fingers and toes, gills on their necks and along their sides, and their ears shifted, elongating and separating until they no longer resembled that of the original Trollkind at all. Delicate prongs and webbing now aided them in hearing things underwater, a place that became theirs exclusively. These were the first Purplebloods. In their arrogance they named themselves Royalty, and have since held the title.

The Bluebloods laid claim to the coldest reaches on the land. In their frigid domain they fought for superiority over themselves. Their long lives made it so that strength, and Intelligence were a must to survive in their self-imposed tangle grandeur.

The Greenbloods chose the jungles and overtime adapted to the vibrant riot of color. Their blood took on the hue of the leaves and with their lengthened life span each perfected the art of a quick, clean kill.

The Yellowbloods were special cases. They took to the deserts and no one knows what secrets they found hidden away under the sand, for whatever it was, changed them. Their blood ran the color of honey and sparks danced along their skin. They held a power that no other color had, unless it was passed down to the grub. To claim a Yellow as a mate, and to have the resulting grub inherit the power, yet still retain the color of another, was considered a boon to that clan.

The Orangebloods and Redbloods wandered the world, each separate yet still together. It is unsure of what they did to inherit their colors. Some say that they are the results of a mixed lineage, others that they were the forsaken, the broken, the disgraced. Those without honor. They were the most numerous and yet the ones who held the shortest life. They lived and died and struggled the hardest out of all of this new Trollkind.

They clans eventually clashed again, each proudly showing off the changes wrought by time. This time, it wasn't simply a mark of arrogance that brought them all together, but a desire to see who was strongest. A series of wars further tempered the differences between the colors. Until one day, it all ended.

The Purplebloods were victorious, though their numbers decimated. They had won the right to lead and took control with a will unwavering. Time passed under their guidance until, well, we see the world as it is today. May our Empire reign Supreme under the rule of her Imperial Condesce.

Join the Fleet Today.