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He had his doubts going into this. Reemus had come in for a check-up, not a fight. He supposed...it was important to take out the rebels if they had the chance but...eradication? All of them? Like bugs? They were trolls. Maybe some could reform! The yellowblood basically trudged along to the base, full of misgivings. What weighed most on him was what the queen said. Rebels were connected to Aendal's attack...but everyone had fought against him at the time. He just wasn't sure.

Reemus followed formation, his brass knuckles on, with his lusus at his side, too. Storming in, he was prepared for a fight. He was almost in the moment, ignoring their greenblooded leader's chatting, and while he had been drawn to the mutant leader's blood and the horror of it...he was easily distracted by someone else.

Baubles in her hair, with a green tree-like symbol and a fashionable shawl. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.

"Athene!" he cried out, horrified. He even brushed up against the drones, tempted to break through. This changed everything. Athene, her friends...they had been such nice ladies at Bloodfest. She had been so good to him. This had to be a mistake!

It had been a while since Sarcel answered any heed of the military. She had regressed—terribly so—and her looks more than accounted for it. Her hair was bedraggled, her eyes were tired, her clothes were the only part that had any semblance of order. Her past trips into the mountains ended with nothing, no answers. She felt lost.

There had been Alifax she supposed. The redblood had been her first contact in what felt like sweeps and somehow she had found herself roped in—or maybe not quite roped in yet but—interested, perhaps, with the notion of his FLARP shenanigans and other such ilk. She had made her way to bloodfest in pursuit of that, but the sheer number of trolls there drove her away. She was a ******** coward, always a ******** coward.

It made her sick.

Maybe it was that which finally drove her to venture out again. Maybe she was finally, finally getting fed up with her moping and her lethargy. Maybe staying cooped up in that hive of hers with chillamom was starting to get to her, really get to her. Sir had worked so hard, put so much effort into trying to mold her into a perfect worthy blueblood, and...? He was gone now, and his work had been for nothing. Sarcel Cincil was still same old Sarcel Cincil.

No, she was Pathetic. She didn't deserve the name bestowed upon her and her symbol and her blood color.

Maybe that's why she was here. Annual check ups? Sure, the military had outstanding healthcare, but she was of enough status that she could have afforded it anyway. She wondered if she would see any familiar faces, wondered just what she was in store for.

Hearing Regina's speech drove it home. This was serious; or maybe not serious but this would definitely be a test. She had to prove herself to her planet now, prove herself to the crown, prove something to herself. Was that it? She really had no idea what to think anymore. Her head was a mess and her esteem was a mess and she was just a ******** mess and it was absolutely abhorrent and—

And well, that didn't really matter much to anyone but herself. She choked it down. Tiny, nervous Sarcel followed the hooded figure like the rest of them, her shotgun loaded and ready, a pouch at her side filled with more ammunition. If she did good, this would be the start of her new life. How badly she wished she could start over. How badly she wished she could burn away all the faces and memories and friendships forged floating around in the depths of her mind. She wanted to be free of guilt, free of consequence. She wanted to be worthy. She wanted to bring glory. She wanted so many things that she had repeated back to Sir for the sole sake of avoiding punishment that she began to find herself actually wanting them. Were they even her thoughts initially? She couldn't remember. She had broken herself in the worst way.

And then here they were, circling this pack of trolls like howlbeasts. Who were they? What did they fight for? An uprising? Follow your orders. Her only morality should be that of what was demanded of her, right? What did it mean to be the perfect soldier anyway? Loyalty to your fellow man.

The hooded figure revealed himself. She watched how the Initiative members reacted.

Loyalty... Loyalty...

Her eyes fell on their mutant leader, how she called him a traitor.

Her knuckles were pale as they gripped her gun, trembling slightly. She wasn't scared she wasn't scared but she was ******** mortified. They were being led here by a sell out? What the ******** did that say about loyalty? She was supposed to consider this greenblood her comrade? He was a ******** snake! Part of her wanted to shoot the b*****d right then and there, but she didn't she couldn't, she probably never would. Here was someone with far more strength and courage than she would ever have. What would Sir do? Would he be so willfully accepting of this? It was, after all, beneficial to the crown. She was a weapon to the queen. If the queen told her to kill her comrades, could she? She would have to. She would have to...

She swallowed hard. She could do this. She remembered her night in the caverns all those nights ago. She remember Zeylla, how she had cast the both of them over the edge of the cliff, how she so ferociously defended Sir. Zeylla didn't understand camaraderie either. Sarcel did. She found strength in her fellow troll.

Her eyes fell on a particularly long, characteristic mohawk. Your fellow troll, your fellow troll, your fellow troll. Was this how war really was? Sir would tell her to pull the trigger. Sir would tell her it didn't matter. The crown would tell her that too. She found herself frozen, but willed her stone-heavy legs forward. Over and over and over she told herself in her head that it wasn't Zeffer, it wasn't.

And she knew it was, she really did, but in the heat of her panic and the sheer willpower of her fear, she convinced herself it wasn't. This was a problem for the future Sarce. Right now, she was just Pathetic.

At the end of the night, she was sill a weapon and nothing more. Invisibility cloaked her.

At first Etsali didn't notice the rumbling, too caught up in her conversation with her old friends. By the time it cut through to her awareness, the chance to flee was long gone. She could only stare in horrified shock as the meeting room was swarmed from all sides, everyone in it herded into the back of the room. Drones, how could there be drones here!? She'd known this was probably a bad idea, but she'd had no idea it would be this monumentally bad!

As a troll burst forward to confront the army head on, the thief shifted her attention to her in shock. Who would be so- She paused, a flash of recognition striking as she realized that this had to be the rebel leader. Of course. She'd seen her once before, that night in Old Hemisect before the bombs had come, she'd been lectured by her for serving the military. Anger stirred at the memory, and she wondered if the tealblood still felt so high and mighty, knowing that going against that army was what had led them all to this moment that could only lead to their deaths.

A gunshot cracked through the air before she could finish the thought, and though she hadn't thought her eyes could get any wider, they did. Oh gog, her blood wasn't teal, it was- Unnatural. She'd made Vremea assure her that those rumors of rebels dealing with the rainbowdrinker weren't true before she'd agreed to come, but if they were led by a mutant, how did she know for sure? How did anyone know for sure?

Etsali swallowed hard, and then lifted gloved hands in sign of surrender. Maybe her friends would think she was a coward for this, but she was not going down with this group before she'd even done anything with them. She managed a smile by force of will, made it apologetic, and waited for the opportune moment to ask for a second chance. They could call it cowardice all they wanted, but Keeper had always called it survival. That was all that mattered. Surviving and-

She froze, head turning to scan the rebels alongside her. Forera and Luxara, of course she worried about them, but they could see what she was doing and they'd make the choice- But where was Ephias? She hadn't ever seen him come in and she couldn't- He had to come with her!

_______________________________________________

Lorata was in heaven. Not only had she gotten a chance to see the queen again and hear her give a speech, but she also got to follow along on an ultra important mission to wipe out a rebel base! This was the kind of story she loved, playing out right before her eyes, and this was where heroes were made. And oh my gog had she found the perfect new candidate for one. She was almost certain that if there'd been any acceptable bits of stone around, she could've made a statue of him in a heartbeat.

That would just have to wait until she got home though! Beaming with the very thought, the little seadweller tore her eyes away from the army's fearless leader to size up the competition. It was a strange mix of trolls staring back at them, and their expressions ranged from shock to fear to anger. She would have expected more fear than that.

Didn't they know they were all about to die?

A shot rang out.

His lusus, his merm was hit by the bullet. Maneki's eyes widened, horror twisting his stomach. "MERMMY NO!" The wail ripped from the bottom of his toes and boomed through the cavern. It was almost as loud as the pounding of his heart. Launching himself forward, he barreled through bodies to get to his mom. His lusus. His savior and friend. There was pink on the ground, her mutant blood. It didn't matter that the one who shot her was supposedly a friend. The one who saved him from the howlbeasts one fateful evening.

None of it matter. All that matter was his world, his mom. Maneki stretched out both arms, hissing loudly from terror and anger. Byakko had been exposed as a mutant and was hurt. And by gog, no one was going to hurt HIS mermmy. How dare they hurt her? How dare they barge into his home and hurt the one he loved so very very much?

Before his arms could reach her, before he could touch her and protect her from the monsters, he real abominations that had flooded and wrecked his happiness, he was scooped up. Maneki struggled, his fists banging on the adult's arm, "ZEFFER LET ME GO LET ME GO! THEY'RE GOING TO HURT BAKAO I WON'T LET THEM. I'LL KILL THEM. LET ME GO ZEFFER." His screams broke into desperate wails as tears washed down his cheeks, "Let me go! Let me go! I have to save her Zeffer let me go let me go!"

"MERMMY!"

Kamileunaire

Are you ready

melona-pan

For feels?

Abrila Variga

Despite the heat and the long trek the royalist forces had taken through the desert, Abrila was feeling fitter than she had in a long time. Perhaps it was the nutritious grub that she had stuffed herself with over the days of military training, or the fact that hiking across wastelands wasn't the hardest thing she'd ever done so it had been a piece of grubcake. Nonetheless, the orangeblood stood as tall and straight as her naturally bad posture allowed, and even though her eyes were orange-tinted and sleepy as usual, they were bright and alert by Abrila's standards. Her clothes, for once, were crisp and clean; the standard military uniform emblazoned with the bright orange of her symbol and blood colour. Even her weaponized shovel shone with a fresh coat of polish.

It certainly was a change from the Abrila that she was a handful of nights ago. Living from shelter to shelter and even under a bridge for a time, she hadn't exactly been in the best form either mentally and physically. She never had applied for a new hive when her old one was destroyed, simply out of laziness, and her lusus was notably and painfully missing and thus, unable to give her the prompting she had needed. Luckily, military drones were quite good at tracking their subjects down when they were needed and it wasn't long until Abrila had been back, more or less, to her usual self.

This obviously wasn't the first time Abrila had been part of military operations, but this was the first time she would see the rebels first hand. Of course, she'd dealt with them and seen many at a glance back when Civisect was nothing but a pile of rubble. Before then, she had only tagged along with the military so that she could get some food and a safe(ish) place to sleep. But, that incident had sparked a sort of contempt for the Phoenix Initiation inside her for the first time, when they had dared touch her stuff by destroying a base she had built. Even though it was technically the queen's stuff they had been touching, she had taken it personally.

Abrila had also drawn real, risk-to-one's-health blood during the final march. While it didn't exactly please her to do it, she wasn't as squeamish as before. She really didn't like it when others got in her way. Groups made her uncomfortable.

Her hands were tense on her shovel as they confronted the rebels. They looked just like regular trolls. There were even some highbloods! But that didn't make sense. Obviously that was just a ruse, wasn't it?

Since she possessed a melee weapon, Abrila had been placed near the front of the marching forces, which gave her a great view of the action. A bang echoed through the caverns, making her jump and stare intently at the surrounded rebel trolls. Wait a second... the leader, she assumed, appeared to be shot, but that wasn't the most shocking thing. Her shoulder bloomed with a sickly, salmon coloured blood and Abrila's eyes filled with horror. While Abrila wasn't a huge supporter of the hemospectrum, she knew that mutantbloods were bad news, and this... this was bad news.

Slowly, the horror ebbed away and her eyes filled with contempt, her lip curling over a fang in disgust.

Aconan had been one of the first to volunteer (read: bounce up and down excitedly with their hand raised) to serve the Empress. As well as being the prime directive for any troll, especially a lowblood, it would for SURE help her gain a hunterrorist position. Right? So not only through duty but through self-interest, Aconan trekked through the desert. Loupsus offered her a ride with quiet chuffs at many points, but Aconan declined - she had to prove she was tough, which meant walking the whole way. Still, by the time the hooded figure motioned among the dunes, she was getting tired - not to mention extremely hot and sweaty! Thankfully she'd dressed in cool clothing, being as Chittentown was pretty arid. As the tunnels began to appear, the crowds of trolls packed closer together, and Aconan began to feel the urge to snarl and snap, to reclaim her own personal bubble. But good soldiers didn't do that, so instead she decided to finally accept her Lusii's offer of a ride.

Aconan rode atop Loupsus, the added height giving her a good view as the group progressed through the tunnels. It made her the height of an average teen troll, so there were still quite a few taller than she was, whether by age or bigger lusus to ride upon. Her blood sang with the thrill of the hunt as the drones led the party, along with a hooded figure. She hoped they were a hunterrorist, in official employ of the empress. It'd make sense, after all! Hunterrorists were definitely good at helping track down enemies. Aconan was already good at it - not great, she reminded herself, you
could always get better, but pretty good.

As they rounded up stragglers (or rather, the drones did) she grinned viciously with accomplishment, small hands tightening on the fur beneath her. And then they found them! Aconan let out a whisper of a sound, what would have been the beginning of a victorious howl had she not muffled herself. But it was soon caught up in the noise of everything else - and then there was the sharp crack of a gunshot. She recognised that sound, being as she planned to use guns herself one day. Loupsus's ears twitched and swivelled as he assessed the direction of the threat, then settled as the hooded figure stepped forward. Following the hooded figure's gaze, Aconan gasped as the mutant was revealed - how awful, a mutant! ( She did thrill as Kursha revealed himself, though - a greenblood, helping the drones to track down bad guys! Maybe they were a hunterrorist, oh man oh man, Aconan HAD to get their name for definite. ) Loupsus began to growl, the menacing sound echoing through the chamber as everyone else too began to react...

reserveee for zin! late but yeah ha

Stryke could hear the faint conversations of voices of trolls he had yet to speak to. They all seemed happily immersed in their flood of conversation. A smile lined his face, a sort of lazy pull of the lips that made his fangs poke out. He was happy..for the first time in his life he felt a sense of purpose like he belonged somewhere.

Like all things both bad and good, they had to come to an end. Time was not on their side, it had all but dried up on them as the rumbling in the cave acted like the symphony to some grand play. Stryke joined his allies in the meeting cavern, daggers drawn at the ready. The crescendo of echoing foot steps coincided with the hammering in his pump biscuit. Although he couldn't begin to fathom what heights this tragic act would reach.

The booming crack of the gunshot made his eyes go wide, swiveling his head to see what had happened..he saw bright pink splatter the ground and the clothes of a familiar face seconds after the sound. Dripping onto the ground below, Stryke stared in disbelief. Byakko had been injured. Their leader was a mutant? He didn't have the luxury of examining this revelation too closely. Nor did it make him want to change his beliefs in the cause.

A voice. And not just any voice began speaking, emerging from the swarm of bodies and noise.

The troll was a hooded as he spoke to the group..but this voice was one his sponge clots recognized all too well. Stryke didn't want to believe what he was hearing. A lump in his throat made it hard to breathe as the final unveiling happened. He knew whom that troll was, and it took everything in his being not to run at him and try and plant one of his daggers he gripped firmly.

"NO!" Stryke's voice raised louder than he ever remembered. He clenched his weapons tighter, feeling his knuckles go white. His tone dripped with disgust and outrage. "YOU...y-you traitorousss military DOG! how could you, you bassstard?! i trusted you..." He didn't falter or cry. There would be time for that later when he was alone. No, Stryke stood his ground staring with blazing malice and rage in his eyes.He openly stared back at that smirking mocking face. He regarded the greenblood with a cold piercing stare. He wasn't about to follow suit, not under these circumstances. Even if he was his friend. All of his friends and allies were in this room, both former and new alike. The thought made him bitter as his lip curled in a snarl.

Stryke's thoughts turned to those he loved dearly for different reasons. Most of all he wanted to preserve what he could..so much was at risk. He had to protect who he could no matter the price, he would never forgive himself for running this time. He felt a pang in his chest knowing he'd have to face down with Kursha. It was one of the more painful things he'd ever done in his sweeps of life.

.