Chiara was letting herself get out of hand. Here she had captives, ones who's lives were in her hands. One at least could talk, the other seemed rather mute. "Well, lets discuss something little red blood," Chiara directed to the troll who had the ability to talk at least. "If I, we, set you free, you owe us your life." There we go, gotta keep in control. Cant be a little kid and just get caught up in the fun and joy of power. There are irons in the fire, and Chiara intends to keep them hot. "What do you think Adamaz? If we bring in the teen, i think Tamiya will be happy, but this little one could do us better later on in life." She winked at her teammate, "Besides, this blueblood hasn't even tried anything yet." Chiara poked Miache with a stick, still confused at his paralyzed shock.
LordPocky
Wizardy Herbert
Doutei
Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 6:48 am
Keionx Rutace With Zariah Rutace and Alexin Flynnt
Was she feeling better? That was hard to say. Yes, she was. And, also, no, ow, she hurt when she moved. It was a worse injury than anything she'd sustained from Aendal – the burns and thorns had been nothing compared to the gut wound. The mental wounds, though, had been far deeper. And now, finally, they were leaving her.
She settled on a cryptic answer. ”Better and worse.” she said to her twin, a little tiredly, ”But I'll be better, Zariah. Please. Don't worry.” She hugged him with one arm, pressing him close even though it hurt her bruises to do so. She was asking him not to worry, but of course, she was grateful for it.
Had Keionx not been feeling particularly sturdy this dark, squelching night, and had she not had her twin beside her to defend, she would have jumped back at the sudden cerulean apparition. She was glad she didn't. Her smile broadened and strengthened.
”Alexin!” she exclaimed. They were safe! Both Alexin and Zariah were safe, and so many more young rebels and the mother grub besides – also safe! That made her injuries worth it, and the miserable slog in the swamps would be worth it.
Alexin was asking about her, and her injuries, and – though they probably did need more attention than Stryke had given them – she was too happy to ask. Finally, when Alexin expressed that wonderful sentiment, she couldn't hold back all of her emthusiasm.
She reached out with her other arm and pulled Alexin to her in a hug. ”And I you.” she said, possibly crying.
Beastdad, of course, saw the big group family hug and was delighted. There were his trolls – getting along together like they should and sharing a big family hug with a perfect stranger! Just like he'd taught them – well tried to teach Keionx anyway – to. The musclebeast soon joined them and added his crushing hug to the mix, hugging Keionx, Zariah, and Alexin tightly.
He was happy Keionx and Zariah were alive too.
tanukyle
lordpocky
And this is how Alexin meets the whole Rutace family.
Larque was in an intensely sour mood, and it showed, as he slunk along with the rest of the royalist forces who consisted of 'task force one'. They had dug in through the cave in and were now hot on the trail of the rebels who had escaped with the mothergrub. He lurked about on the fringes of several other groups, knowing none of them personally, and not wanting to, either. He wanted to be with Tamiya, who had of course joined Kursha's hunting party, the second group that would help corral the rest of the escaped criminals.
Unfortunately, the last push had proved too much for him. A cleverly placed box of fireworks had been the last straw, and between that, a twisted ankle, and a myriad number of other wounds, Larque had been talked into staying behind. Half his face was patched up where one of the whistling rockets had smacked into it, and he was burned and singed all over. The burns were superficial, thankfully, and he hadn't lost his vision, but the area would have to stay bandaged for a while.
His spirit for the entire venture had all but drained from him. The only thing that kept him on his feet was the fact that he'd promised Tamiya that he would keep going, and that they would meet somewhere in the middle and make the final capture. Pessimism and worry weighed heavily on his tired mind, but he pressed on, making no sound save for the squish of his boots in the mud.
It'd been a long, long walk from the caves to the swamp, but Vremea wasn't willing to stop and think about how long it was. She knew herself too well-- The second she stopped to think and rest, the second her constant paranoia would crash in her mind. When the mountains became harsh and too hazardous to travel through, the yellowblood instantly pulled out, agreeing with the plan to switch paths and to go through the swamp deep in Four Fronds. It was simply way too dangerous... Keeping herself busy by concentrating on the Mother Grub and the wigglers, the yellowblood stayed near the wagon, using her powers on the occasional time that the mother began to shift uncomfortably. She cooed at the babies and kept watch on the eggs, barely paying attention to her surroundings with each step she took. She was covered in her own and the blood of others, and every time she saw the familiar green blood on her blouse, it felt like it was too soon. She was secretly thankful she had decided to rip off the majority of her bustle and throw it in the swamp earlier-- Vremea could only imagine how much she would've suffered should she kept it. Even now, only wearing her cape and what was left of her dress was killer. Hopefully the humidity would lessen. For now, Vremea was left sweaty and uncomfortable.
Though she was surrounded by quite a few trolls around her taking care of the mother grub, the yellowblood felt hardly at ease in the damp area, especially now, when her scouts moved with her. Milieu had gone to lead a false trail, she knew that much, Keionx had gone to talk to a troll and was keeping her brother company, Odette... She supposed she was scouting ahead, though she really should not have been putting too much effort onto her body, especially with her temporary lame leg. Athene was... actually, on the other side of the cart. Glancing toward the tired greenblood, Vremea let her mind wander to the fight, remembering her shrill scream of help in referral to her. She clenched her teeth, wishing she could've prevented that from happening in the first place, but of course not. At least she managed to help her, that time. Where were the trolls that had accompanied her? Adjusting her neck bow and wiping the sweat off her brow again, the yellowblood looked toward Athene and sighed tiredly. "Athene." She said tiredly, wanted to catch her attention-- "Hello. How are you holding up?" You could see the stress by her face wrinkles and hear it in her simply terrified voice. She just wanted the group to be safe. It just wouldn't do if one of them were caught.
She only hoped the others made it back safely... For now, however, all Vremea could do was continue helping the Mother Grub and try to comfort their allies, trying to keep her and the wigglers calm throughout their entire move.
Your TPS has died again. You get ready to give this legendary piece of s**t another shake/wave combo and get it working again, when you notice a red light coming from the back.
For Royalist / Path 1:
Quote:
How the glub is this thing suffering from a low signal? Isn't all military technology supposed to be made to work in space? Is the foliage of the swamp so thick that it's managing to cut a signal that should transmit from ship to planet? Maybe they just gave you a piece of garbage. It's possible. Whatever the reason, it seems that if you press your chase any further, you risk loosing signal, and your only map of this unexplored, maze-like swamp altogether. While you were promised wild rewards if you succeeded, there wasn't any special handouts promised for dying alone in a swamp, or some creature's stomach. Unless you're really, really jonesing for some up close nature adventures, it'd probably be best to turn back now. If you retrace your steps, then head directly south, you should arrive back in the relatively safe fortress of Four Fronds before the sun starts to show itself on the horizon.
Thanks, mystery troll for giving you the largest piece of garbage you've received all sweep. You can't really do anything about it though, as turning back is so beyond not an option, that you don't even consider considering it. As you press deeper into the swamp, the light on the back goes black, and the machine ceases to respond at all. Hoping against hope that you're not going to start travelling in circles, you push deeper into the swamp. After a while, you don't even remember which direction you were coming from. Completely lost. Your only ray of hope is that if you keep going, you'll be bound to run into something - the edge of the swamp, a landmark, anything to get you out of this twisting labyrinth.
Please continue to use this thread, rather than the ones linked to above, for all escaping rp/miniboss-shenannigans/things related to The Wild Hunt. It, and all the activities offered in it, will remain open until Sept 20.
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 11:44 am
Adamaz blocked out the redblood's stuttering pleas. It wouldn't do to lose his resolution now. Especially in front of Chiara. He turned to his superior. "Do us better?" Adamaz wasn't understanding Chiara's words. Highbloods sure talk funny, Adamaz observed. "What d'you mean? Pretty sure two rebels are better than one."
Out of the corner of his eye, Adamaz noticed Tevini shuffling towards the immobile blueblood. He scowled. Two rebels are better than one, eh? "Stay put, whoever you are." He put a hand on Tevini’s shoulder.
"We should probably keep them separate, Chiara. Seeing as I don’t have any like. Rope or anything." Adamaz led Tevini away from the other guy and his teammate. The blueblood. Hmmm.. Adamaz looked over his shoulder at Chiara. "This is that blueblood slime Tamiya was talking about, right?"
Micillia
Doutei
Wizardy Herbert
Offline
thyPOPE
Devoted Hoarder
Offline
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 4:42 pm
To say Dictys was antsy was an understatement.
There'd been something about that jadeblood last cold season...he hadn't seemed real. He was a rainbow-drinker who controlled plants, and he was literally larger than life: a real adult, older than most of the trolls ey'd managed to meet in eir admittedly pitifully short life so far. Sometimes thinking back to the experience it seemed like a dream: they'd fought heroically, and in unison. They'd slain the beast.
These people weren't beasts. They were trolls. One of them had sunlight-bright blood in a color that itched at Dictys' eyes. She was clearly - badwrongdiseased. And the others...the rest of them. They'd followed her blindly, in awareness that her existence was an assault on trollkind. They'd kidnapped a mother grub and, from what Dictys had gleaned, her innocent spawn, too. That was hundreds - potentially thousands of lives, if you thought about all the grubs the mother could've spawned - wasted in the name of...what?
Someone's idea of fun? Someone's unwillingness to carry out their duty to Alternia? This was absurdity. They had a destiny, here. There was a society to protect, and to do their duty by. Dictys had to catch them. Kill the pink-blooded horror, if necessary, but perhaps if Dictys was the one talking, they'd see the error in their ways.
Ey strode forward urgently, even though ey was still stumbling slightly from the ordeal in the caves. It wasn't too different from Dictys' first ventures abovewater, right? It was just that, now that Dictys expected the solidness of the ground beneath em, eir legs were just...so tired.
Near em a slow, silent lowblood trudged. This was a difficult thing, wasn't it? But Dictys could be a leader, like ey had been last dry season. "Don't worry," Dictys told em, trying to inject a balmy soothing quality into eir voice. "We'll catch them."
A pause. Then..."Larque Skopos?" He looked so different - he was so much taller! And that face...
But the horns were still there. It was Larque, wasn't it?
Kamileunaire
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 7:22 pm
'This one's Adamaz and she's Chiara. Sounds like Tamiya is in charge, possibly the commander.' Catching names, Tevini glanced at her captors and began gathering what information she could. Knowing their names wasn't much but it was definitely good to discern who their angry juggalo leader was, as the troll's wrath was fueling Adamaz's decision to turn her in. The girl winced at Chiara's playful tone and baiting words. This blueblood had a mean streak to her.
As Adamaz led her away, Tevini felt her mood relax if even just a little. Out of her two captors, Chiara had been more intimidating. The boy with the mohawk had a face of stone but hadn't made any snide remarks or toyed with her fate as of yet. Even if he'd ignored her pleas she felt confident that there was a way out of his captivity compared to the other one.
"Ngh." The bump on her head smarted and Tevini stumbled as she felt a little woozy. It hurt but she was grateful for the reminder that even if this troll was acting calm now he had attacked her earlier, with a trash can lid no less. If she hadn't set up her home in a junkyard she probably would've considered that an insult but Tevini had learned the benefit of ignoring a few germs to get her hands on better (and free) supplies. Once she felt certain they were a little out of Chiara's hearing range the inventor tried to appeal to Adamaz again, this time with a little inspiration from Chiara's earlier words.
"... If it's beetles you want, anything besides my life, I'll find a way to pay. I don't have much but I can scrounge around my hive. I'm sure there's something you want." Nervous, she watched for any tells that what she was doing was getting through.
"I could help you escape too- you could hide in Scuttle and your commander wouldn't see you."
To say Aprife had a lot on his mind would've been an understatement, considering the entirety of the Initiative's predicament on top of as his recently uncovered personal strifes. Unfortunately, brooding was low on his list of priorities now (or it should've been), especially with the mother grub so dangerously out in the open as they carted her along. Behind him were the soft coos of unknowing wrigglers, just barely within earshot. He'd stepped away from the caravan to scout ahead for danger, but never went so far that he couldn't be right back with everyone in the event they were attacked from behind.
With their leader headed to the front lines, he felt tasked with taking some form of temporary command along with his fellow officers, a role that he would've reveled in any other time. The yellowblood wanted this, badly, but he also found himself bogged down by his own thoughts. Up here, distanced, alone, Aprife could take a moment to breathe and clear his head.
It would do him some good, and he certainly wasn't slacking as he trudged along, having already learned to ignore the disgusting weight of his soaked shoes. No, Aprife was on high alert, scourge drawn in preparation for whatever might come, eyes darting to every cast shadow and every rustle of the underbrush. So far he'd encountered nothing of note, but the swamp was vast and he was positive their journey wouldn't go as smoothly as he hoped it might.
Muerte's mind on the other hand was relatively clear, which was good given the circumstances. He was a little more properly bandaged now, the dressing on his arm much neater, blood at least absent from his skin (though his green-stained clothes were another monster entirely). In addition were the new clean wraps on his head, the only indication of his previous condition.
He was exhausted. His bones ached, his muscles ached, and he found himself back at that tell-tale question of why. Why was he here anyway? Aprife had promised him payments, and of course he had his own interest with the mother grub, but... things were getting out of hand again. This was why he bailed the first time. He couldn't stand feeling as if he had lost somehow.
The forest-turned-marsh environment was starting to get to him too. His only solace came in the form of 100% rubber up-to-his-knees boots that he, thankfully, wore regularly. The warn-in pair was his only saving grace from the half mud half water ground he was sinking into with each step.
Despite his ragged appearance, the greenblood went to straighten his cravat, classy as ever.
Except well, Muerte wasn't really classy in the slightest and he knew it, but he still attempted to look dignified despite the battle everyone had been through. Many members rushed ahead to provide a diversion for them—one which Muerte was obviously grateful for (because he wasn't about to)—but there had been a few surprising developments in the matter. Aprife, for one, had decided to stay behind and lead the grub. It was important having their officers present, he knew, but with Zeffer taking charge and rushing off to the front lines like he had... why didn't his matesprit follow him?
It had to be boring as ******** if Muerte was thinking about trivial gossip like this. He sighed, finding himself relatively alone. He wasn't of course; the wagon wheels could be heard distantly in the background as well as footsteps sloshing in the muck. Muerte didn't have any particular reason in trudging ahead other than to enjoy the small amount of peace and quiet that came with it. He was solitary first and foremost, after all.
Ah, except it seemed he wasn't completely alone. His eyes wearily caught movement ahead of him, and he immediately recognized it to be the yellowblood floating around in his thoughts earlier. The hell was that moron even doing? He was all about being up in everyone's ******** business. Muerte was the lonely brooder. He had no idea why this sudden role reversal made him feel grumpy, but it got under his skin for some reason or another.
Not that it matters, he reminded himself. He couldn't give a s**t less about what was making Aprife act this way, but he supposed he might as well join the taller troll in some silent company. He was looking to elude the noisy banter of his tired teammates. He could stand the sound of two separate footsteps walking along in the mire.
...
Though, having walked beside Aprife for more than a few minutes without even any acknowledgement, Muerte felt, well, awkward. The doctor loudly cleared his throat, breaking the silence he so desperately was seeking; whatever. Whatever. Maybe some small talk would distract him from his exhaustion.
The very thing Muerte found himself questioning was hanging ever-heavy still on the yellowblood's mind as he continued through the mud, pausing shortly to adjust his sash and nothing more. Ah, of course, yet another reminder... He yanked if off in a sudden flare of emotion, clutching it tightly in one hand with his whip as he examined it. The sash—a sleeve, that's all it was—had already been through hell before adapting to the life of a fashionable accessory. Now, though, it was torn even more and stiff with dried blood in a few places. Whether that blood belonged to him or someone he'd fought in the tunnels, or both, he couldn't know.
That was when the good doctor saw fit to sneak up on him, ripping him straight out of his glazed over existence with a quickness. Well, sneak was probably too strong a word. Quite honestly, Aprife had dropped his guard nearly off the damn map and that sent a jolt of self-disappointment deep into his chest. He had for a moment been aware, keenly observing his surroundings, but memories had dulled his senses and weakened him so easily and that simply wasn't acceptable.
With a slight grimace, ever so slight, he pretended he hadn't tensed and nearly jumped when Muerte cleared his throat.
"Throat bothering you?" he asked, a little drearier than one of his jokes would normally sound. Though he decided not to leave it at that even though he didn't turn to look at the greenblood in the slightest. "Actually... everything okay with the mother grub back there?"
Keionx Rutace With Alexin Flynnt and Zariah Rutace, about to encounter Chiara Moteku and Miache Gahiji
A nearby TPS beeped out its last message, and Keionx – engulfed in hugs and joy and reunion – automatically glanced at the one on beastdad's side – the only one visible at that time. Troll lifeforms detected. it read, in it's pearly script, Number: four. Direction...
Well that was odd. The TPS was saying that said life forms were somewhere in the swamp... which meant it might not be glitching again and that might mean... ”Oh! One moment...” Keionx squeezed free of the hug with some effort and much reluctance – more so because she was doing much of the hugging – and picked up the TPS. It was unmistakably not a glitch – turning it to the caravan and the mother grub, it registered many life forms just fine. All of these were, theoretically, registered, and it only beeped a few times. She moved it back in the other direction, and there, on the screen, were two sets of two. Life forms. Trolls.
”We may have company.” she said, beckoning to her friends, ”There are trolls nearby in yon swamp, and they may need assistance...” or, they may need to be dissuaded. Either way. ”Come.” she said, starting off towards the disturbance, ”Quietly. This must be investigated.”
(Raid with quite and others which will occur somewhere on her timeline?))
Quote:
Massive Thrashing Raid 8/30 Current Members: Vremea Keionx ---
Break for heroism? Could always move to another thread? Either way, giving the people with her a chance to respond before I go ahead and post her finding them.
"This way, ladies!" Aerona called. She was riding off the high of their sweep of The Fingers... We slipped right through their fingers, she thought to herself. Even the simple thing made her laugh. She looked behind for her crew. Now that they had eluded the royalist troops, a stint through the swamp was no problem at all. To think that children had been sent – mere children. It was a disgusting thought. Aerona wondered if the troops were solely voluntary. Leeroi was sure to jump on the chance, knowing that little git. The other highbloods seemed incredibly typical of their caste. It was a disturbing thought. She wondered if she would ever have to face him again. Her jaw tightened.
However, thoughts of the present were more pressing. The group’s victory had lead them through the swamp, carefully plotting their route. The (faulty – ugh!) TPS that Rasali held fast to was showing no more royalist troops, and the dots it did spot were easy to avoid. The plan was simple: track through the woods to find the Mother Grub and lead her champions back through their escape route. They would continue to scout ahead to find some sort of salvation The self-titled War Babes had been successful. It was natural for their clearly forged path to lead to something greater.
After a long trek, something huge and white came into view. Aerona slowed down to a trot and slipped behind a tree. “Moon? Steam? Snake Bites?” She whispered. Peeking around the trunk, she was met with the sight of a few orange horns and the picturesque form of the Mother Grub. A careful smile appeared on her lips. They couldn’t be too careful. The redblood waited for her posse to join her before proceeding.
Had the situation been any different, Muerte might have laughed.
Not the jovial sort of laugh, but more of a sneering the hell was that? sort of reaction, what with the way Aprife had tensed (nearly jumped was a better word). Instead the greenblood offered him a sideways glance, watching as Aprife didn't return it. Muerte wasn't by any means an empathetic troll, but he was observant, and even if he couldn't comprehend just why or what or how was causing the yellowblood to act this way, he could still tell something was up. Then again, it wasn't as if he hadn't realized this before. The way the seconds drawled on just made it more and more obvious.
He bit back an annoyed sound, eyes looking back to the expanse ahead of them.
"Well enough," he murmured, the joke all but lost on him (when Aprife joked, he knew, and this just didn't sound like one)—"If by well you mean the grubs won't stop shrieking and morale is starting to drag just as badly as every sorry moron back there."
He shrugged. It wasn't his problem, but he also inwardly conceded to his own exhaustion. Everyone was feeling the effects of their expedition. The nights were wearing on into days and back into nights and he was getting real tired of this whole charade. Even if he were to bail now, it'd be a long way home. Might as well stick with the group of branded outlaws (oh, huh, he was technically one now wasn't he? Whoops), since going it alone didn't seem feasible, no matter his independent nature.
At least this group was filled with some tenacious bastards, he had to give them that. "They're fine if they've come this far." he added airily, "Or they will be, if we reach our destination soon... where the hell are we even going anyway?"
saedusk
Melancholies
Springtime Teenager
Offline
kamileunaire
Floppy Member
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2015 3:52 am
At first, Larque hadn't even realized that someone was talking to him. He had assumed that the smooth voice nearby was addressing someone else, but as he glanced over, he realized that it belonged to a purpleblood, who happened to be looking right at him. What happened next made Larque's blood run cold for a moment. As Dictys said his name, his heartrate skyrocketed, and he gazed over at the highblood (who he could now see was not just any highblood, but a seadweller) as if he had sprouted a second head.
It took the greenblood a moment to regain control of his thoughts. A seadweller who somehow knew his name...it could only be one troll. Larque supposed that it wasn't all that surprising, to be running into them again, in a situation like this. Highbloods loved to flaunt their support of the crown, so why would this one be any different? He bit back the hiss that threatened to spill from his throat, and swallowed hard. His emotions were, as usual, embattled - this troll had saved his life, rescued him from the cruel grasp of the sea. He could at least show a shred of courtesy.
"Dictys Glauci." Larque's voice was quiet and raspy. His eyes swept over the highblood, trying to force back disdain. Seadwellers always were as flashy as they came, and Dictys was no different. Were it not for the fact that Dictys had rescued him, he would never have remembered his name.
