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This roleplay concerns the following four trolls.



It's located at the Alternian military's Chittentown base, just after Kursha's fighting force has reported back for duty. There's a slight lull as they wait to be reassigned into squads, although of course they won't be waiting too long...

The trek back to base was a surprisingly easy one. Sarcel ached from the battle, but it was suffice to say she was relatively unharmed (especially compared to a number of other trolls that were present). Sure, she'd been battered and bruised and bloodied, but it was mostly patched at this point, no sweat off her back really. She felt a little proud of herself, almost. Even though they had ultimately failed in the moment, she felt like she won personally. Her condition had improved, her stamina tested and proven. She had been rusty, sure, but she would get better about that.

Except now, she found herself somewhat aimless. She felt anxious in the downtime, wondering when their next move would be, where they would move out. She hastily made the internally decision that she was well enough to trudge on immediately, and now all she really needed was to wait for the regroup. She wasn't about to go off and make her own, anyway, but it felt awkward waiting around for someone to do it for her. She wasn't about to get mad at her own lack of self initiative, however. She'd wait till this was all over and done with. Focus on the bounds you're making right now...

Ah, but it looked like she really wouldn't have to. Moving away from the spot where she stood, she halted when a familiar voice called out to her. It was a bit of an understatement to say that she was surprised, but she also felt a little relieved, "A-Alifax!"

She was receptive as he made his way over, trying her best not to look too awkward (this socializing thing was still a magic completely lost on her). She immediately wanted to start asking a hundred questions, are you okay? why are you here?—but instead her eyes fell to the rather... decorative bandages covering his body, purple and garish. A-At least she was thankful he apparently had some connections? "G-Glad to see you're u-uh... d-doing okay..." she rambled, finally tearing her eyes from the hideous dressings. Right. Um. Maybe change the subject.

"S-So you came too, huh...?"

Sarcel had tipped her head slightly as Alifax spoke. What about the last cold season? She was a little out of the loop and it was starting to show, but judging the way he touched his arm and fidgeted, she decided not to press it. It wasn't a very important topic right now anyway, not when they had all this other cacophonous s**t going on.

But then there goes Alifax bringing up FLARP, something even less important, and she can't help but laugh a little, marveling in how nice it feels to well, actually laugh. Being out and about felt good, even if the circumstances were a little less than optimal. It was still funny all things considering though; this redblood covered in gaudy bandages, talking about his silly group as if they didn't just engage in some all out war a couple miles into a mountain.

Well, she corrected herself, it wasn't really silly. Alifax seemed really into it, and his passion was pretty contagious. She had to admit that she still didn't really understand or grasp what the point of it all was still, but it at least seemed like something fun to do in her downtime. "I-I guess maybe a little, s-sorta," she found herself fumbling with her hands, bubbling awkwardly to herself. Even if it didn't turn out to be her cup of tea, the fact there was another troll that wanted to participate in something with her made her feel pretty damn good. She had to get better at this whole friend thing, it felt great.

"I mean," she hesitated, trying to clear the stuttery urge out of her throat, "I still think it s-sounds really interesting! W-We should definitely t-try to uh, y'know, meet up a-after all of this is over! M-Maybe practice o-or something so I can get the hang of it..."

"That sounds great," Alifax smiled, looking warmly over to Sarcel. "I think...I think we could do well together, maybe." Depending on how well they worked in unison, he meant. Honestly he really just wanted a dependable partner: he'd had a number of alliances over the sweeps, but the nature of Alifax had been such that they'd never really gotten attached. Either that or they'd not been interested in the competition: hello, Frossa and Hazzan.

As he was about to speak again there was a slightly familiar voice at his elbow, and Alifax turned to face it. He had to quash the initial alarm that flared up within him at the sight of fins: especially since, he noted, this little seadweller was smiling at him. When he processed her words he figured out why she was familiar. "Oh!" said Alifax, and he tried to extend his smile to her: it looked uncomfortable and unfamiliar on his face, though. "I mean," Alifax said worriedly. He didn't want to have to dress up as that leprechaun again here! "We have trolls that committed treason to catch, and that's not a game." A pause. "But maybe...after? Or...perhaps if we assumed our characters' roles it'd help us?" The Dedicate wasn't any better at locating people than Alifax was, but he liked to think that the Dedicate was better at the capture part. He didn't even want to think about Cantie's utility in a setting like this.

[+] Kursha Vidari

Two hundred and twenty three stitches, a shot of morphine, and a dose of healing magic via military technology. It could have been a lot worse—namely, he could have been dead—but it also could have been a lot better. He should not have been conscious, much less walking around and preparing for combat.

Slipping out from the medical tent, heedless of the drone calling behind him, Kursha pulled the standard-issue camouflage jacket over his shoulders and zipped up the front. The stiff fabric offered little warmth. He hugged his arms around his sides, or as much as he could without irritating his wounds, and tried not to shiver. The blood loss had left him chilled to his very core. Only the knowledge of his close brush to death chilled him more.

Ducking his head as he manoeuvred the swarms of trolls filing in and out of the base, Kursha kept his gaze down and avoided eye contact. He shifted his hands into his pockets. His bravado from before had all but vanished. Standing at the head of the army barking orders, he had been able to maintain a semblance of composure, even as he felt faint on his feet. His reserves had run out though, as Elidae had seen. He had nothing left to hide behind, no mask left to present. The jacket and trousers he wore only concealed the scars.

Kursha let out an involuntary snarl as blueblood collided with his shoulder. Ordinarily such a slight would have incurred a scene. Now however, he lurched past, without further remark. He did not so much as lift his eyes. Teeth grit, he pressed through the crowd, held captive by his thoughts. His doubts from the tunnels had returned to haunt him, fine-tuned and amplified. Every troll he hurried past was privy to his weakness and his failure.

“Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me!”

The spectre of defeat preyed on his consciousness. Not one rebel dead, not a mark on the mother grub, and yet he was little more than a walking corpse. To make things worse, he had lost a sizable chunk from his army, trolls that had been placed under his watch. The Initiative was a dying cause. They had failed in the Old Hemisect Conflict, failed again in the Chittentown research facility, and then were nearly wiped out with Errade's betrayal. Mopping up their remaining numbers should have been a simple affair. Somehow though he had botched even that.

The thought struck a hollow chord in him.

It was not his fault. He had done everything he was supposed to. He had fought with every fibre of his being until it had nearly killed him, so he could not be held accountable. If there was anyone to blame, it was the soldiers he commanded. “Soldiers”, ha! That was giving them too much credit. Weak, with no drive, his forces had all but allowed the rebels to escape. What did they care? Most of them had only joined up to reap the rewards anyway. It was not as though they had anything to lose.

For the first time in over a sweep Kursha found himself wishing for the Colonel. Despite all she had ever done, despite all she had not done, she at least had an unshakeable sense of duty. She knew what it meant to pursue justice. What it took to achieve victory. No one else did. Motivated solely by promises of material reward, most the trolls under his wing would settle for a loss. They did not understand the price of failure. But the Colonel did, and for that Kursha needed her, even though the thought made him sick. Maybe not the Colonel, but maybe someone else. Maybe...

Alifax.

In the middle of the crowd, Kursha turned to stone. His gaze was fixed on a redblood that stood chatting with a blueblood and a young seadweller. Charred clothes, short, curving horns, shaggy hair... It was exactly as he remembered but... that was impossible. Alifax was dead. He had died in the abandoned hivestem, back before the Old Hemisect conflict. Kursha had seen him die... or had he?

Searching his memories, Kursha replayed the event. He had gone exploring with Alifax, the drones had shown up, together they had fled and then... and then... they were split up. Alifax's fate from thereon was unknown to Kursha. That had been the last he had seen of the older troll however, so he had just assumed... God. And all this time, he thought...

All his previous concerns dissolved, Kursha made a beeline for the trio. As he weaved through the crowd, he adjusted himself. He straightened his posture, relaxed his shoulders, and lifted his chin. He even managed a grin, though it came to him more easily than he expected.

Disregarding that the reblood was clearly in the middle of a conversation, Kursha raised his voice over the din. “Oi! Alifax!” Pushing past another troll standing in between, Kursha sidled up to the trio. “I thought you were made into worm food a long time ago! How've you been?” Perhaps that was too casual a greeting considering the circumstances, but he could barely restrain his enthusiasm.

"Sure," said Alifax. If that could help this little girl get through a journey that Alifax was pretty sure Frossa could never dream of enduring...

Okay, that was being a little mean. Frossa was more than capable of a days-long trek. Or she had been, before. Now she was smaller than ever, sheltered. No longer the vicious fighter she'd been. But she'd be that troll again, soon, and FLARP had helped her. "I think the Dedicate would, ah, appreciate a quest..." he added. Wait, did she expect Sarcel and Alifax to follow her along? Well, he was certainly well-versed in maps. That had been what he'd spent all of the previous dry season doing. And he could carry her, probably, if she fell behind. That might be...doable.

He was understandably distracted by watching her badger Sarcel when his name cut through the homogeneous wall of sound rising around them. It took a bit for him to figure out where it'd come from but by then it was very obviously Kursha, even though his voice wasn't quite the same as he remembered it from the desert. Er. Wait, they were still in the desert. Well, that one "adventure" in the desert, then, Alifax corrected himself, using Lorata's words. "Kursha," Alifax acknowledged, his face breaking into a rare smile. So the guy did remember him. "Yeah, I...the worms would have to try a lot harder to get me for good," he said, rubbing the back of his neck absently. "You've done well," Alifax added. He didn't need to gesture at the block around them to emphasize that.

Just as he finished, though, Lorata, too, interjected. "Oh, uh, yes. This is Kursha, this is Sarcel, and this is Lorah - uh........" Was he getting the name right? s**t.

[+] Kursha Vidari

At Alifax's words, Kursha lit up. Not only did the redblood remember him by name, he thought he had done well. In that moment, that was exactly what Kursha needed to hear. It was almost like Alifax had known. That of course was impossible. It would have cheapened the value of it anyway.

“It's a start,” Kursha replied, accepting the compliment with little ostentation. No matter how much it meant to him, he could never show it. Besides—he had found his resolve once more—there was no way he would settle for anything less than victory. He had not lost yet. As long as he was still breathing he was in no position to give up.

Kursha turned his attention to Alifax’s companions, a small seadweller with a monstrous lusus, and a tense blueblood. The blueblood threw him an informal salute and for a moment, Kursha felt a rush of paranoia. He stiffened. She saw right through him. She must have. His smile faltered briefly as he studied the blueblood to gauge her sincerity. Then again, maybe it was just an attempt to be friendly. No need to panic.

The seadweller on the other hand seemed to regard him with… a kind of awe? Kursha’s first instinct was to be suspicious. She must have wanted something from him. There was a trap waiting to be sprung. And yet… he could not find a reason for a trap. She appeared genuine. A warmth filled his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling being admired.

As Alifax introduced the two trolls, Kursha was all smiles. Placing a hand on his hip, he nodded toward the blueblood and seadweller respectively. “Kursha Vidari,” he added. Though internally he still carried self-doubt, on the surface he appeared as cocksure as usual. “Nice to meetcha, Sarce and… Lorah? How do you spell that? With three ‘a’s? Or did Al forget the rest of it?” He had not missed the redblood’s hesitation. He offered him a wink and a grin.