Sgrub! (Karl, Ferret)

[Sporky]

Wytmonde sat back down at his grubtop, Arquua still on his mind. He'd never told Perza that he and Arquua had had a brief redrom fling before Perzac had met and become infatuated with Arqua. Guilt suddenly welled up inside and overwhelmed Wytmonde, and he figured he had to tell Perzac.

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] began pestering intrepidStalker [IS] --
RB: Hey, Perz4c.
IS: Yes?
RB: I 6ot 4n odd feelin6s thin6s 4re 6onn4 6et weird, so...I 6ott4 be honest with you.
IS: ...Okay?
RB: I knew 4rquu4 before you did.
RB: I, uhhh...I w4s kind4 w4xin6 red for her for 4 little while. But it didn't p4n out.
IS: I...don't know what to say to this.
RB: I fi6ured I owed it to you to tell you.
RB: I just coudn't f ind 4 w4y to brin6 it up.
IS: I'm....konfuused now.
RB: Oh 6o6.
IS: My thinkpan really huurts now.
IS: Kan I...get bakk to youu?
RB: Of course.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] ceased pestering recoillessBifurcation [RB] --

Wytmonde buried his face in hids hands. Oh gog...oh gog, what had he done? He'd ruined his relationship with Perzac, and he'd been strongly waxing ashen forPerzac for some time...gogdamn romance malarky. It made his thinkpan hurt.


-- intrepidStalker [IS] began pestering recoillessBifurcation [RB] --
IS: Alright...
IS: So I guuess...I'm okay with this?
IS: Sorry abouut before. I juust needed to get my thouughts in order.
RB: It's 4lri6ht, bro.
IS: Thanks for telling me.
RB: I owed you, bro. 4s 4 friend.
IS: Youu've got the disease bad.
RB: Heh.
RB: M4ybe not 4s b4d 4s you think.
RB: You've 4lw4ys been so smitten with 4rquu4, who's 4lw4ys been there to keep your he4d level?
RB: 4nd you've 4lw4ys counter4cted MY insecurities.
IS: I don't...I didn't think we talked often enouugh to have a moirallegianke...
RB: Someone's 6ott4 keep your he4d out of the clouds, bro.
IS: I guuess youu're right.
RB: <>
IS: <>?
IS: Boy that felt weird.
RB: Heh.
IS: Hey, I think this thing is done installing.
RB: W4it, wh4t?
IS: Took a loooooooong time too.
RB: Perz4c, you didn't
IS: Er, kind of.
RB: Oh 6o6.
IS: What's wrong? It's not like I have to play it right away.
RB: ..True.
RB: But I dunno, bro. 6ives me b4d vibes.
IS: I juust installed the klient side. I figuured sinke it was youurs, youu'd want to be the server.
RB: Wh4tever th4t me4ns.
RB: 4nyw4ys, I better 6et b4ck to Colfer4s. He's j4bberin6 4t me.
IS: Alright.
IS: I'll be here if youu need me.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] ceased pestering recoillessBifurcation [RB] --

Wytmonde grinned. That was ONE quadrant filled. Three more to go, though having or being an auspitice was less of a priority than a matesprit or a kismesis. And, yeah, Perzac DID need someone to look out for him, make sure he didn't get TOO giddy and smitten with Arquua.

Just for the sake of curiosity, he set the 'server' program to install. A myriad of silly phrases flashed up and were gone. Wytmonde raised an eyebrow atit, shook his head, then responded to Colferas.

[RB]:Me 4nd Perz4c 43 6oin6 to be pl4yin6 it.
[RB]:I think it works so th4t e4ch pl4yer is someone's 'client' 4nd someone's server. I'm Perz4c's server. You c4n be his client, 4nd my server. I think th4t sounds 4bout ri6ht.
[RB]:4nd my only opinion is th4t you 4re not only unhe4lthily obsessed with defyin6 the spectrum, but 4lso with defyin6 rom4nce. But hey, I won't hold 4 thin6 464inst you, bro. You w4nn4 do th4t stuff, ok4y. More power to you. 4nd no, th4t w4s not sn4rk.

As he was trolling and waiting for a response, he sent the filer folder over to Colferas. In actuality, however, Wytmonde thought Colferas was a freaking nutcase. Defying the spectrum was one thing, but...outright refusing romance? Pfeh. Guy would probably say he'd just kill the Imperial Drones.

[Vipervertical]

The cool Alternian breeze rustled Perzac's hair, occasionally admitting glimpses of bright yellow eyes embedded in the grey skin. His legs splayed out in front of him, the grubtop perched neatly atop them. Something about high places calmed him, making the roof one of his favorite places to be. It was this calming feeling he was needing right now. Both the height and the contact with his lusus allowed him to calm the strange feelings that Wytmonde's revelation welled up in him. It was a strange emotion that he'd never had before. The only thing he could compare it to would be the feel of the hunt. It was different, but somewhat similar.

He scratched his lusus, silently thanking it for the calming influence. He wasn't sure what would have happened were he not calmed down. Probably nothing, but it was always best to be safe. He looked at the screen again, admiring the start-up screen for the game. SGRUB[/i]. What it meant, he had no clue. But he was drawn by the asthetics. For a few seconds he entertained the thought of installing the server file as well, but quashed the idea. No need to upset Wytmonde further. He'd install it in time, there was no need to rush.

In the meantime, he reached forward, grabbing the novel again from the edge of the rooftop. While he flipped through the book to reach his place, Wolfgangue again hopped onto his lap. The tiny lusus crawled onto the grubtop, obstructing his ability to type. It wasn't really an issue right now, since nobody was trying to get in contact with him. And he'd just pick the little guy up should it happen. For now, he was content to let the little guy rest there. The book opened to the correct page, he began to read, paying no more attention to the lusus and the grubtop.

-- intrepidStalker [IS] began trolling agrarianPredator [AP] --
IS: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacufn jhgfcd

[Karl the Unfettered]

Hm... clearly, Soldier-boy had a few nobs loose in his pan. Time for a tightening.

wW: Here's the deal, soldier-boy. And it's a big deal, so don't go blowing me off.
wW: First thing is, of c-course I'm defying the hemospect-trum. It's an outdated social order that arbit-trarily labels t-trolls like me, who have c-candy red blood, as mut-tants and outc-casts.
wW: Meanwhile the bluebloods and purplebloods get t-to run roughshod all over everyone just bec-cause they happened t-to be born that way. They c-could be the most inc-compet-tant jack-kasses, and most of them are in my opinion, and it wouldn't change a gogdamned thing.
wW: I decided real early on that I wasn't gonna st-tand for it, so I k-killed any fark-king t-troll, highblood or low, that thought he or she c-can look down on me or t-talk down at me. That's how I got int-to the mafia, see, I st-tood up for myself and I got the mangrit and the c-combat operandi t-to back it up.
wW: I won't LET my c-candy apple blood decide where I end up, what I do with myself when I grow up. I get t-to decide that.

Colferas hadn't told any of this to anyone in a long time, and he was getting needlessly worked up over it. He reached over and scratched Massacree, letting the action calm him down while he considered his next words.

Absently he clicked on the file sent to him, and it downloaded itself in the background. A moment of inattention and negligence he would doubtless come to regret soon.

[Sporky]

[RB]:Hey, wh4t did I s4y? More power to you. You 6ott4 6o with your he4rt, ri6ht?
[RB]:Oh...hey. My server m4thin6y just finished inst4llin6. I'll 6et b4ck to you.

Wytmonde brought up the server program..wait what. He could see Perzac's hive...there was Perzac. A myriad of icons were arranged across the top of the screen, none of which he had any idea about...ah. Maybe the huge giant question mark would be helpful. He clicked on it.

..Huh. Nothing. Nothing happe OH GOG WHAT JEGUS CHRIS HOLY CRAP.


Wytmonde fell out of his squishseat appratus, holding his head. It throbbed with a pain that he had never known..wait.

Wait, hang on.

He knew.

He knew the basics of the interface..but..how?

Had the game...implanted crap into his thinkpan?

Slowly, he crawled back up into his squishseat apparatus. He went right to work, plating stuff down around Perzac. It was only after he was done that he decided to actually TELL his client what was going on. He also sent along a hastily-typed text file explaining the basic shenanigans as he now undertood them. Colferas got the same file.

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] began trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --

[RB]:Perz4c. 6et to work. I don't know why, but I...I feel 4 sudden ur6ency, bro. I'm sorry if this seems 4 little st4ndoffish..but I feel like we 6ott4 6et this cr4p done.

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] ceased trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --


Now all he could do was wait. Wytmonde rose from his seat, and began pacing again. This game....this game was weird. Very, very weird...But he'd gotten used to weird stuff by now, especially tonight...huh. Arquua was right. The WAS turning into a long night.

His Trollian went ping. He sat down at the grubtop, expecting it to be Perzac or Colferas.

-- ??? began trolling recoillessBifurcation [RB] --

Hey. 6rub. T4ke this. You're 6onn4 need it.
[RB]: Wh4y? Who 4re you?
You'll know eventu4lly.
[RB]:Wh4t does th4t me4n?

-- ??? ceased trolling recoillessBifurcation [RB] --

Wytmonde blinked. He..what? What was all that? He glanced back at his SGRUB window...oh.

Oh my.

Oh my gog.


Grist.


9 digits of it. In several different types.

He didn't even know there WERE types. Oh gog..


This game was weird, man...WEIRD.

[Vipervertical]

==> Be the other girl

There is no other girl. You are now the only girl.

Your name is ARQUUA DIUCON. You have a variety of INTERESTS including ASTRONOMY and HUNTING. You have a fondness for HATS and SMALL FURRY ANIMALS, which is why you wear your FURDORA, which is a hat made from a small furry animal. You have a MATESPRIT who can be a little clingy sometimes, but he means well. You wield the SPEARKIND, and have fought off many a musclebeast with your trusty LONGEDGE. Your trolltag is agrarianPredator and yOu tend tO emphasize sOme Of yOur vOwels~

You have NO IDEA who your ancestor is, and frankly you COULDN’T CARE LESS about them. Your priorities are solely on the present, and the far past should hardly control your current situation.

---

Tonight was a big night. Well, not so big to most trolls. And it was hardly an occasion; it was just the longest night of the sweep. Arquua’s strange fascination with astronomy was the only reason she was even aware of this fact. She wasn’t exactly sure what this meant, but was certain there was some symbolism involved. Whatever it meant, she was not likely to find out.

She moaned and grabbed at her stomach again, hoping to calm the strange pains she was having. She’d been sick for over a week now and had no idea what was causing it. Probably some bug she picked up in the jungle during one of her reckless excursions with Perzac.

Speaking of Perzac, here he was contacting her now. She frowned as she read over the message. It was some sort of gibberish. Had he lost his mind?

AP: what?~
AP: are yOu gOing crazy Over there?~
AP: if this is sOme kind Of cOde, i’m nOt getting it~

No response. What was his even problem? Her matesprit was so weird sometimes.

---

---

==> Be the matesprit who is weird sometimes

Your name is PE-hold on a second, didn’t we already do this for him? You’re an idiot is what you are. Let’s just get this back on track, shall we?

---

Hardly had Perzac gotten back into the book when the grubtop beeped again. He sighed, marking his place again before looking over the screen. Arquua? And someone else, too. Someone he didn’t know. Naturally, he responded to Arquua first. After all, it simply wasn’t polite to leave your matesprit unanswered. It seemed Wulfgangue had somehow messaged her on accident, and she seemed pretty confused by the random message he had sent. He picked the lusus up and placed him atop his own head. He didn’t even wake up. Perzac chuckled before explaining.

IS: Sorry abouut that.
IS: Wuulfganguue dekided to mess arouund on my gruubtop.
AP: silly thing~
AP: i thOught yOu might be in trOuble~
IS: Me? Trouuble? Don’t be silly.
AP: dOn’t wOrry me like that~
IS: I’ll make suure he stays away from the gruubtop next time.
IS: Youu, on the other hand, shouuld be getting some rest.
AP: i knOw~
AP: i’ll be getting back tO it nOw~
AP: yOu just be careful~
IS: Alright, alright. Juust get some rest.
IS: We might be going on an adventuure soon.
AP: <3~
IS: <3
-- agrarianPredator [AP] ceased trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --

He was glad nothing was wrong, just a silly little mishap. With this in mind, he got to the one that he didn’t know.

-- eugenicOath [EO] began trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --
EO: You
IS: Me?
EO: You
EO: i must saY
IS: Yes?
EO: i am simplY fascinated bY You lowbloods sometimes
IS: There's not muukh to be faskinated by.
EO: tHat You run around pretending to be sometHing otHer tHan a source of amusement to us is fascinating
IS: Oh. That.
IS: Yeah, I don't talk to many highbloods, so it wouuld be hard to devote my life to that.
EO: now would be a good time to start
EO: Youd better learn Your place, filtHY scHwein. unless Youd prefer i teacH You?
IS: Uum, what are youu implying I shouuld do?
IS: Puut on a show? I'm kind of buusy.
EO: You are never too busY to entertain Your betters
EO: i suggest You run Yourself upon a blade.
IS: Yeah, buut what exaktly are youu better than me at?
EO: are You an imbecile?
EO: or maYbe just blind.
EO: unable to tell wHen He is taking to a roYal
IS: It's not like youu earned that royalty, thouugh.
EO: and You Have not earned tHe rigHt to breatHe
EO: i am Your better. i will judge
IS: I'd say I've earned a lot more than youu have.
IS: I earn my dinner every day.
EO: tHis is nonsense
EO: simple nonsense
EO: i earn mY meals as well
EO: FLARP is a great waY to stockpile food
IS: Puutting the food in youur protein khuute is hardly earning it.
EO: of course, Your kind is merelY a disease. a min or cold for our race. and c olds go awaY eventuallY
EO: so i am not worried.
EO: go about Your life, little one
IS: I plan to.
EO: maY be some daY You will be luckY enougH to end up in mY gullet
IS: And maybe someday youu'll be luukky enouugh to find my blade.
EO: a blade..aHHH
EO: HeH
EO: i'm guessing some sort of big, brutisH knife?
EO: no
EO: a sword?
EO: altHougH..mY darling uses sabers Herself. Hmm.
EO: nonetHeless
IS: What does it matter to youu?
EO: scientific observation
EO: lowbloods tend to stick to large, brutisH weapons
IS: I'll have youu know my knife requuires more finesse than any of youur fanky rifles.
EO: You assume i wield riflekind
IS: I honestly don't kare.
EO: ignorance
EO: tYpical
IS: Prorities.
EO: Hmm
IS: Right now, this konversation is looking muukh less appealing than my book.
EO: wHat sort of book?
IS: Again, what does it matter to youu who hardly valuues my very existanke?
EO: observation
IS: It's a novel, if that makes a differenke. One kan never go wrong with a good story.
EO: indeed
EO: i enjoY a good read mYself
IS: Oh do youu now? Is this before or after youu insuult random lowbloods for no diskernable reason?
EO: i Have everY reason and rigHt to treat You as i see fit
IS: Right. Bekauuse youur blood is a prettier kolor than mine.
IS: And that makes ALL the differenke.
EO: it does
EO: or perHaps You Have been living unaware of tHe spectrum Your entire life
IS: The hemospektruum is the most ridikuulouus konstruukt that was ever invented.
EO: watcH Your tongue, lowblood
IS: We're already kertain that the only blood kolor that matters is green, so why shouuld they be so low?
EO: i will Have You publiclY executed for treason
IS: Suure youu will.
IS: Or youu'll exkrete waste and moan for someone who's aktuually kompetent to kheer youu uup.
EO: Your attempts at demeaning me are impotent and will be fruitless
IS: And youur own attempts only strengthen my belief in the hemospektruum's folly.
EO: believe wHat You will
EO: i am ultimatelY rigHt
IS: One day soon the hemospektruum will be dissolved.
IS: Youu kan be kertain of that.
EO: tHat is rubbisH
EO: it Has kept us going as migHtY conqueror for endless generations
IS: What's ruubbish is the thouught that this flawed system of ruuling has existed for so long.
EO: if You saY so
IS: Now if youu'll exkuuse me, I have something that I aktuually find more interesting and deserving of my attention than you.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] –

That same emotion he’d felt earlier when he talked to Wytmonde was stirred up again. This time it was stronger, fiercer. This time he was able to put a name to it: Rage. There was no denying it; this was pure, undiluted rage he was feeling. What right did this hoity-toity royal have to talk to him like that? The hemospectrum was a subject he usually just ignored, but now it made him angry. Just because they were born with a different blood color, they were given all the power. It made just as much sense as him signing up for the archeradicators.

His lusus nuzzled the top of his head gently, calming the enraged troll. Slowly, he calmed down enough to realize someone else was trying to contact him.

-- ??? opened communications with intrepidStalker [IS] --
Good evening, Perzac.
IS: Uummm, what?
IS: .......This is awkward.
IS: Who uuses white text anyway?
Is it now?
IS: That's kind of ruude.
IS: Makes it really diffikuult to talk to youu.
Now, now, Mr. Trousen.
Manners must be maintained.
Would your matesprit approve of such?
IS: Well, kouuld youu khange youur text kolor or something?
IS: How do youu know my name anyway?
There is little I do not know.
IS: Er...what?
I must say, it is astounding how poor your lot in life has been...
IS: It's not that bad.
You must be quite heartbroken. Jealous even, to lose your matesprit...
IS: Lose her?
IS: What do youu mean?
IS: She's not that sikk.
And for he whom is responsible to gain one so blatantly.
IS: I'm afraid I don't follow.
IS: Somebody's going to try and kill Arquua?
You may not now, but you will understand my words very clearly in time.
IS: Well why didn't you wait to tell me then?
IS: This is juust attempting to be konfuusing at this point.
Telling you now meshes with my own goals.
IS: ...And what goals wouuld that be?
My own to know.
-- ??? ceased communications with intrepidStalker [IS] --
-- intrepidStalker [IS] changed their mood to RANCOROUS --

Ugh. Two people in one night being vague and unhelpful. Apparently he was tonight’s target for some group of people who liked to tell people about their futures. They probably were just some more highbloods messing around with people like him. It was beginning to really upset him. He contemplated just going to bed and hoping the next night would be better.

Oh boy, here comes another message. What now?

-- eugenicOath [EO] began trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --
EO: Hello lowblood
EO: oH, i see
EO: ignoring me because You cannot tHink of anYtHing wittY to saY
IS: Not youu again. What do youu want?
IS: Does the blokk buutton even do anything?
EO: to observe, is all
IS: Observe what?
IS: What happens to a slitherbeast when youu poke it with a stikk?
EO: tHe workings of Your feeble mind, of course
IS: It gets uupset.
IS: And then it eats youu.
EO: oH, YOU will not be eating ME, i assure You
EO: it will be tHe reverse
IS: Well of kouurse I wouuldn't eat youu.
IS: That wouuld be disguusting.
IS: I was speaking metaphorikally.
EO: wHen tHe lowblood does not understand sometHing, it instinctuallY calls it dsgusting
IS: Is that so?
EO: tHis is natural, and i do not blame You for Your base opinion
EO: it is wrong, but natural for You
IS: No, it really isn't.
IS: Killing another troll? Whatever.
IS: Eating them? That's messed uup.
EO: as i said, i do not Hold Your primitive instincts against You
IS: Primitive?
IS: Youu, the one who eats other trolls is kalling ME primitive?
EO: friendsHip, respect for tHose wHo Hold no use or importance to You, tHese are natural instincts to sucH primitive lowborns
IS: This is a lauugh.
EO: You would waste tHe carcass of tHose You cull?
IS: Of kouurse not.
IS: I only kill what I plan to eat. Or if they deserve to rot.
IS: Hazard a guuess whikh kategory youu fall in.
EO: fascinating
EO: You believe Yourself to be rigHt
EO: You remind me of mY former kismesis
IS: In this, yes.
EO: a slugeblood
EO: i was Younger tHen, not quite as smart
EO: wYtmonde, i believe.
IS: Oh no.
EO: i foolisHlY Held blackrom feelings for Him. tHis was a simple follY of mY YoutH
IS: His folly was not shooting youu in the head while he had a khanke.
EO: He would not do so
EO: He would not Have dared Hurt His kismesis~
IS: Youu're making me sikk.
EO: tHe next time You see Him sHirtless, notice tHe scars. SURGICAL scars~
EO: oH Yes, i perfected mY craft on tHe boY. He was far too doped up to even notice, but i know He now feels sucH sHame over it~
IS: This is sikkening.
EO: simplY a product of Your lowblood tHinkpan being unable to compreHend tHe actions of a roYal.
IS: There's nothing to komprehend.
IS: Youu're a monster.
EO: i am no animal
EO: i am a genius
IS: Most madmen believe suukh of themselves.
EO: i am not mad
IS: Until eventuually their folly leads to their ruuin.
EO: i am quite sane
IS: Few klaim otherwise.
EO: as before, Your attempts to aggravate me areimpotent
IS: And my attempts to blokk youu fake the same roadblokk.
EO: but of course
EO: However
EO: i can block You
EO: roYals Have rigHt of waY even on trollian
EO: You loatHe me, don't You, lowblood?
EO: You despise me~
IS: Are youu trying to hit on me?
EO: of course not
EO: merelY toYing witH You
IS: Quuite honestly, I'm not at all interested in youur blakk solikitations.
IS: Youu'll have to find another troll.
EO: i speak tHe trutH, and You tHink i am making romantic advances on You
EO: fascinating
IS: Whoop dee doo.
EO: and now You are mad
IS: Juust bakk off. Kan't youu tell when youu aren't wanted?
EO: come and make me, tier~
IS: Dammit, I'm not interested.
IS: Youu.
EO: i will flaY Your bodY open and consume Your innards witH a lovelY kelp wine
IS: Are.
IS: Not.
IS: Attraktive.
EO: i am not trYing to be
EO: but
IS: And statements like that?
IS: Not exaktly helpfuul.
EO: tHe ladY dotH protest too mucH~
IS: ......
IS: Youu're really getting on my nerves.
EO: am i?
EO: elaborate
IS: What youu are saying.
IS: Is making me.
EO: angrY?
EO: mad?
IS: Want to slit youur throat.
EO: You could never Hope to toucH me witH sucH a brutisH weapon~
IS: And watkh youur prekiouus little fanky kolored blood spray all over the plake.
EO: i am going to keep speaking to You
EO: for as long as i please
EO: sucH is mY grub-given rigHt
IS: Yes, I suuppose it is. Buut I don't have to read it.
IS: Goodbye.

Perzac groaned. This highblood was really getting under his skin. He would not shut up. It seemed Wytmonde had sent him something. Whatever it was, it would definitely be time better spent than talking to this highblood. He read skimmed text quickly, still having trouble remaining calm. This game seemed…complicated. There was a lot of stuff going on. Something about cruxite dowels and alchemitters? A lot of it was nonsense so he decided to save the file for referencing when it became important. Unfortunately, this had the unintended consequence of bringing the trollian window to the forefront.

EO: tHe little wriggler is angrY~
EO: He is crYing patHetic Yellow tears of rage
EO: tHe big bad roYal Hurt His feelings
EO: would You like me to cut out Your tear ducts so You can be a big strong troll all tHe time and never crY?
EO: or perHaps You would prefer i end Your suffering, Hmm?
EO: So You won't Have to speak to anY more sick roYals~
EO: You would enjoY tHat
EO: meeting Your end at tHe Hand of a roYal
EO: all lowbloods, HemoloYal or Hemorebel, all secretlY adore dYing at mY Hands~
IS: Wait, are youu still talking?
IS: Sorry, I was buusy getting things done.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] –

It wouldn’t stop him, but at least it could quiet him for a while. And he finally got to looking around. The usually bare rooftop was now covered in strange devices. That must have been what the readme meant by an immersive game. He supposed that this must have been Wytmonde’s doing and stood up, bringing the grubtop with him so he could use the file Wytmonde had sent to reference OH WHAT NOW?

EO: You canot ignore me, lowblood
IS: Nope, still don't kare.
EO: i will speak to You as i like
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath --

Some people just need to learn when to shut up.

Oh wait, here was Wytmonde saying something about urgency. Before Perzac had a chance to respond to Wytmonde’s message, he was already gone. AND HERE HE WAS THIS GUY AGAIN.

EO: HeH
EO: HeHeHeHeHeHe
EO: nice trY~
IS: Still don't kare.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] –

SHUT. UP.

EO: Yes You do
IS: Nope
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] --

Perzac took some deep breaths before attempting to get back to examining the strange device near the edge of the roof. If he was reading this text file right, this was probably the Cruxtruder. Apparently he’d need to open this or something. Setting down the grubtop, he tried turning the crank but it wouldn’t budge. It seemed to be pushing something up, but it wasn’t getting through the lid. Naturally, his next idea involved ripping off the lid. Nope, he wasn’t nearly strong enough for that. With a sigh, he hopped back down and picked up the gruOH COME ON

EO: You reallY amuse me, Yellow
IS: Glad to be of assistanke. Now kindly shuut youur meal tuunnel.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] --

Oh hey, someone who’s blood wasn’t pink was talking to him.

- recoillessBifurcation [RB] began trolling intrepidStalker [IS] at 23:01 --
RB: Perz4c.
IS: What now?
RB: I'm sorry I sounded so cross..
RB: My thinkp4n 6ot...I..
RB: The 64me impl4nted stuff in my he4d.
IS: Alright, what are youu babbling abouut now?
RB: I don't know how.
RB: I clicked wh4t I thou6ht w4s 4 help file.
RB: Then B4M.
RB: I knew.
IS: It's a game.
RB: I KNOW
RB: I..
RB: Perz4c..
IS: Sorry, I'm having a rouugh night.
RB: We 4ll 4re..
RB: I didn't me4n to be so...well, cross.
RB: Not 4 word I use, I know, but..
IS: Well, I'm sorry I lashed ouut at youu. Juust dealing with this damn highblood puut me on edge.
RB: He's...he's..
RB: OH 6o6, I don't w4nt to think.
IS: Poor freak was aktuually flirting with me.
RB: Oh 6o6..
IS: Whatever. Let's juust play this game and forget abouut him.
RB: Do you still h4ve th4t rusty old shot6un?
IS: Yeah?
RB: Look on the b4ck of its c4ptch4lo6ue c4rd.
IS: These silly nuumbers?
RB: They're import4nt for sh4rin6 items.
IS: It says D4KAP0VVK
IS: Helpfuul?
RB: Yes.
RB: Now I c4n h4ve one.
IS: Wait, that's what they're for?
IS: That's...aktuually pretty neat.
RB: One of the m4chines I just plunked down.
RB: 4lso, you should prob4bly 6et 4 bunch of bl4nk c4rds.
RB: For the best p4rt of the 64me.
IS: Kaptkhalouuge kards?
IS: I've only got a few of those.
RB: I 6ot 4 metric ton.
RB: C4me with the modus.
RB: I love this modus.
RB: No foolin6 4round.
RB: Just y4nk it out, holds 150 c4rds.
IS: Ugh, don't even mention my moduus.
IS: Thing is a pieke of krap.
RB: 4nyw4y,
RB: Bl4nk c4rds.

Wytmonde went on to explain some strange procedure involving something called a Punch Designix. Apparently he could make new Captchalouge cards. Perzac figured he might as well increase his capacity for now. It wouldn’t do to run out of Captchalouge cards at a crucial moment. While he explained it, Perzac took a quick look at the other incoming meJEGUS CHRIS

EO: make me
IS: Oh, I'm sorry.
IS: Is this making youu uupset now?
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] --

He took a second to calm himself before going back to Wytmonde’s message.

IS: Alright. That'll kome in handy.
RB: M4ke them ri6ht 4w4y.
RB: Perz4c, ple4se trust me. Ok4y?
RB: I know I sound 4 little dem4ndin6, but..
IS: I've got youu.
IS: No worries.
IS: Youu've never let me down before.
RB: Th4nks.

Perzac sighed, rolling up his black sleeves and rolling his neck muscles to get himself ready to deal with all this running about. It was always important to streDON’T YOU EVER SHUT UP?
EO: no, not at all
EO: simplY more amused~
IS: Well then.
IS: How abouut I kontinuue to amuuse youu?
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] –

Perzac drew his hunting knife, quickly jabbing it into the side of the Cruxtruder, just below the lid.

EO: unfortunatelY, mY darling nerina is calling me
EO: goodbYe for now, Yellow~
IS: Whoops, I still don't kare.
-- intrepidStalker [IS] blocked eugenicOath [EO] –

Using his anger to fuel the motion, Perzac pressed down on the knife, slamming the lid of the Cruxtruder off in brutal fashion. The success of the maneuver caught him off-guard, and he easily fell to the calming influence of the lusus betwixt his horns.

With his hunting knife once more stowed in his strife specibus, he watched a strange flashing sphere float out from the opening. Immediately after the sphere, a yellow cylinder, the same exact color of his blood, came up from the top of the device. But what really drew his eye was the countdown that it now displayed somewhat ominously.

6:15
6:14
6:13
6:12

[Karl the Unfettered]

Hm, stuff was happening it seemed. Good thing he was home. He brought up the installing program, watching the swirling circle and the rapid text at the bottom; two programs at once, this was a confusing game. He wished it could be simple, like all the other games, or the gang wars he engaged in so often. Farking Sgrub, farking programmers, farking crap.... farky fark fark. "Fark it all, eh, Massacree?" he commented randomly.

Just then the games finished, and with a flash installed themselves on his computer; a beep indicated they had also found their way onto his grubtop. What the hell was up with that? He brought up Trollian again to ask Wytmonde about it, but Wytmonde got there first:

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] began pestering wannabeWiseguy [WW] at 14:43 --
RB: Colfer4s.
wW: Yeah?
RB: You still h4ve th4t fl4methrower c4ptch4lo6ued?
wW: Of c-course.
wW: No sense bringing it out without fuel.
RB: Look 4t the b4ck of its c4rd. 6ive me the code, ple4se.
wW: One sec-cond.
wW: Fw00005H
RB: Th4nks.
wW: What's going on?
RB: Somethin6 to do with this 64me.
wW: And what's this program you sent me?
RB: The 64me.
RB: I'm currently Perz4c's server. He c4n be yours, you c4n be mine.
wW: Server?
RB: You've 6ot two pro6r4ms there.
RB: The server 4nd client.
wW: I'm not t-too good with c-comput-ter t-terms.
RB: You h4ven't re4d th4t text file I sent you e4rlier, h4ve you?
wW: Not yet, is it import-tant?
RB: It will be when you st4rt pl4yin6 the 64me.
wW: I get the feeling I don't have a choice anymore, do I.
RB: You need to complete the cycle, bro.
wW: Ok-kay ok-kay.
RB: Now, I need to 6o do some stuff. H4ve fun.
wW: So I run the c-client program, and the server player is in c-control?
RB: Yep.
RB: 4nd you run the server pro6r4m, 4nd you're in control of me.
wW: Alright.
wW: Well, good luck with your st-tuff.
RB: Likewise.
-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] ceased pestering wannabeWiseguy [WW] at 14:52 --

Well, that was a weird conversation.

Colferas glanced at the text file, deciding he should read it, but then his head split open like someone was jamming an axe through his ear! He shouted and almost fell from his chair, clutching his ears, writhing in agony as something streamed into his thinkpan. He was being violated, this farking game was a virus Wytmonde had sent to kill him ah why did he ever trust that gog-damned soldier-b-

Then the pain stopped.

Colferas opened his eyes in confusion; he knew things, now. How to interface, what to do... maybe he wouldn't need that file. He looked at his computer, and there was Wytmonde; looked like he was digging around looking for junk to alchemize. A bunch of icons was at the top, and he realized this was for manipulating junk. But he'd need grist first, so-

??? began trolling wannabeWiseguy

Hey C-Colfy. 6ot some st-tuff for ya.
wW: Don't c-call me Colfy. Who the hell are you?
No one. Just t-t4ke it. You'll need it, t-trust me.
wW: Hey! What is this?!

??? ceased trolling wannabeWiseguy

Farking trolls, think they could ruin anyone's crap! Except this guy wasn't....

Whoa, that's a lot of grist.

"Uh... huh. Ok, thanks, whoever you were," Colferas muttered uncertainly. No time to dwell, he had stuff to do!

wannabeWiseguy began trolling recoillessBifurcation

wW: Wytmonde, you ready?
wW: I'm gonna lay the st-tuff down! C-Can't st-top me now!

He grinned and started rearranging Wytmonde's hive, to make room for all the hardware that had to be put down. He couldn't help but whistle ironically as he went about the business.

[Sporky]

There were several loud, reverbrating THUD sounds as Colferas dropped the phrenalia waround Wytmonde's hive. Of course, he had to have placed them all willy-nilly. But Wytmonde wasn't going to complain about having to run back and forth different parts of his hive. Anyone who would complain about that was obviously lazy and out of shape.

[RB]:So, I'm 6uessin6 since the punchc4rd desi6nix is down, you 6ot 4n infusion of 6rist sent to your client 4s well?
[RB]:Well, wh4tever. I 6ot used to weird cr4p 4 lon6 time 46o....toni6ht. M4n, screw this 64me sometimes.

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] ceased trolling wannabeWiseguy [WW] --

Wytmonde shook his head and sighed. His thinkpan was REALLY starting to hurt. But whatever. He had a job to do. And that job was alchemkizing the hell out of everything he had. He looked about his respiteblock.

His block might as well have been a frelling armory, so vast was his collection of weapons. Grenade launchers, pistols, rifles, assault rifles, various military handbooks..heh. A wide, toothy grin appeared on Wytmonde's face, one that usually only showed up when he was in the midst of a FLARP battle..oh, yes. This would be fun.

But he had other things to do before he could really get into the alchemizing. Alchemizing was just so ungogly complicated...but it sounded hella awesome. But he had to get his totems.

He made his way over to the cruxtruder. He knew that before he could wheel up a totem, he had to pop the lidd off the cruxtruder. It required a large amount of force to pop it off..which he may or may not have possessed. Only one way to find out.

Summoning up all the mangrit he could when so calm, Wytmonde slammed his fist down onto the lid. It popped down, and after a second or two, popped out, falling to the flooor and rolling away.

He ignored the glowing, sludgy green orb, the unprototyped kernelsprite, for now. There would be time for that later. For now, he had access to cruxite dowels. He wheeled up a metric crapton of them...he was gonna need them. Heh.

==> ALCHEMIZE

---

Combine FIRE AXE && TROLL JACK NICHOLSON PHOTOGRAPH && NOTEBOOK ON HOW TO KILL ARMEL'S LUSUS = HEEEERE'S CRABBY

You grip your first alchemized item firmly in your hands, admiring its remarkable construction. You think for a moment about this game, and how alchemization works. Combining such a random combination of things produced a weapon that is no doubt highly powerful. It seems that alchemization can do no wrong. Your toothy grin widens. You are pleased. You store your new weapon in your BACKPACK fetch modus, where it will soon be joined by many, MANY new brothers.

Combine PUMP-ACTION GRENADE LAUNCHER && MILITARY HISTORY BOOK && JUNGLE CAMOUFLAGE PAINT = GET OFF MY RIDGE, YOU CONG BASTARDS

Combine GET OFF MY RIDGE, YOU CONG BASTARDS && COPY OF LIFE OF A SEAGRIFT = HAND CANNON

Combine HAND CANNON && TROLL CCR CD && THERMITE GRENADE = UNFORTUNATE SON

Combine TROLLNER 63 && HOWITZER MODEL = MY GUN IS FIGHT

Combine MY GUN IS FIGHT && COPY OF TROOM 3 = BMFG

Combine BMFG && RUSTY NOCK GUN = THE LEAD WIND BLOWS

Combine THE LEAD WINDS BLOWS && COPY OF LIFE OF A SEAGRIFT = RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINE CORPS

Combine RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINE CORPS && UNFORTUNATE SON && WATER CAMOUFLAGE PAINT = LEVIATHAN

Combine FLAMETHROWER || LEVIATHAN = FIRE-BREATHIN' HYDRA

Combine FIRE-BREATHIN' HYDRA && SIMPLIFIED GUIDE TO FLARPING A COURT MARTIAL = JUDGEMENTAL CONGRESS

Combine ANTIQUE XM16T1 && TROLL MEL GIBSON PICTURE = WE WERE TROLLDIERS

Combine TROLLSIN NAGANT && EMPTY BOTTLE OF 140 PROOF VODKA && GAS GRENADE = NOVA SIX

Combine MAKTROLLROV PISTOL && RIDICULOUS ANIMAL PRINT CAMOUFLAGE PATTERN PRINT-OUT = PIME TARADOX

Combine TROLLGER P08 PISTOL && HOLLOW-POINT ROUND && BOTTLE OF JUGGERNOG SODA = TASTES LIKE GIBS

Combine T1928 TROMPSON && MT40 && TUNGSTEN BULLET = GONNA GIVE THEM A FINAL SOLUTION, SEE?

Combine THE ROOM && DIE GLOCKE && BOTTLE OF FINE BRANDY = A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WHERE TOMMY WISEAU IS THE NEXT SPIELBERG

Combine HEEEERE'S CRABBY && TITANIUM COMBAT KNIFE = SHELLBREAKER

Combine FLAMETHROWER && POSTER OF IN WHICH THREE DOWN ON THEIR LUCK BLUEBLOOD SCIENTISTS AND THEIR HIRED-ON TOKEN RUSTBLOOD BATTLE GHOSTS, SUPERNATURAL BEASTS, AND EVENTUALLY SOME DOUCHE NAMED LORD ENGLISH = CROSS THE STREAMS

Combine LEVER-ACTION RIFLE && ALTERNIAN FLAG && PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE = OH SAY, CAN YOU DIE

Combine C96 TAUZER PISTOL && COMBAT KNIFE && DIAGRAM OF THE HEMOSPECTRUM = OKAY, WHO TURNED ARMEL INTO A GUN?

You blink, looking at that last item..wait, what? That..that was a horribly stupid idea. Whoever named that is a freaking idiot with a horrible sense of humor. Feel shame, namer of items. Feel shame.

Combine ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE && PUMP-ACTION GRENADE LAUNCHER = DEMPSEY'S REVENGE

You stop suddenly, looking at the enormous pile of weapons on the floor around you. You realize that you have more important things to do, my by gog, alchemizing is so much fun! However, you resolve to stop making more weapons for the time being. There are other things you can make. Like computers. You briefly eye the glowing clock gears on your desk, but decide against using them. You have no idea what they do. You don't want to risk it.

Combine FANCY SUIT && FLARP FATIGUES = DRESS UNIFORM

Combine KIMBALL ZEO POSTER && DRESS UNIFORM && GRUBTOP COMPUTER && BOTTLE OF ULTRASTRONG MOONSHINE = KIMBALL'S COMMAND SUIT

Combine GRUBTOP COMPUTER && GRENADIER'S SOFTCAP = COMBAT HUD

Combine LEATHER GLOVES && GRUBTOP COMPUTER && THERMITE GRENADE = WRIST-MOUNTED TACTICAL GRENADE LAUNCHER

Combine KIMBALL'S COMMAND SUIT && THERMITE GRENADE = MANGRIT-POWERED FIREPROOF COMMAND SUIT

Combine MINIGUN && GRUBTOP COMPUTER && CHAIR = SELF-PROPELLED TURRETTOP COMPUTER

Combine REMOTE CONTROL GUNSHIP && GRUBTOP COMPUTER && GET OFF MY RIDGE, YOU CONG BASTARDS && UNFORTUNATE SON && WRIST-MOUNTED TACTICAL GRENADE LAUNCHER = CALL IN AN ALPHA STRIKE

---

Wytmonde stopped his alchemizing. He was done for now. As he looked about at his new collection of firepower and computers, he let out a very unmanly squeal. OH, yes, he had all the firepower. ALL OF IT. Whatever the enemies were in this game, they didn't stand a ghost of a chance.

Now he could turn his attention to the kernelspri AUGH WHAT THE CRAP JEGUS CHRIS FRAK SMEG GORRAM SHAKING

The base that Wytmonde had constructed his hive in wasn't exactly the most stable thing on the planet. Every now and then, part of the thing would crumble and fall down. Sometimes they opened up parts of the place that he had never been able to get into without using explosives, whe he was loathe to do, for fear of bringing the entire thing down around himself, sometimes they were just crumbling towers or wall sections. This was one of the latter times.

The reverberations from the phrenalia being deployed had been the last straw for another part of the air control tower rather close to his hive. It came crashing to the ground with a near-deafening THOOM. This shook his hive, causing one of his posters, the one of Kimball, that he'd put right back up after making a copy of it for alchemization purposes, to fall off the wall..down into..oh jegus.

It touched the kernelsprite.

There was a blinding flash of light, and when it cleared, there was...there was Kimball Zeo, Fusilier Grandus of the Alternian military, monument to mangrit, his ancestor, resurrected in sprite form. Kimball turned his gaze to Wytmonde. He didn't look pleased.

"BOY."
"YOU'VE GOT SOME EXPLAINING TO DO"

Oh gog.

"What do you mean, sir?", Wytmonde squeaked, utterly terrified by this sprite.

"I MEAN SEAGRIFTS, YOU CONFLICTED DUNDERHEAD. SEAGRIFTS. BOOKS. POSTERS. LIKING SEAGRIFT-THEMED MUSIC. EXPLAIN YOURSELF BEFORE I UNSCREW YOUR HEAD AND DEFECATE DOWN YOUR NECK."

Kimball's voice, though having a hollow ring to it, was still booming and commanding..he was every bit what Wytmonde had expected him to be.

"I..I, uhhh...I just...like them?" Wytmonde had no real answer for his growing interest in seagrifts. They were just...cool. Kimball didn't like it, but he calmed down a little, at least.

"I DIDN'T DIE FIGHTING AN ATTEMPT AT GENOCIDE BY MINDFANG, DUALSCAR, THE VIZIER, AND THE GOGDAMN SUBJUGGULATOR JUST FOR MY WHINY LITTLE DESCENDANT TO LIKE FRELLING SEAGRIFTS..."

Kimball trailed off. Thoughts ran through his ifninitely more powerful sprite mind, and he considered Wytmonde's life thus far. He chuckled, and shook his head.

", BUT I GUESS I'M PROUD OF YOU."

Wytmonde's face lit up..what? Ki9mball was proud? OH GOG OH GOG OH GOG OH GOG YESSSSSSSS. Wytmonde was bouncing off the walls with glee at that..Kimball could only facepalm. Gog damn kids...

"CALM YOUR ASS DOWN BOY, JEGUS..YOU'VE GOT CRAP TO DO."

Yes..work. He had work to do. He had to find the pre-punched card..a free card that would give him his 'entry item'. That was where Wytmonde's knowledge of the game ended. He didn't know what an 'entry item' did, only that he needed it to continue.

He found the punched card without much hassle. Kimball had wandered off to explore Wytmonde's hive, and as he accessed Trollian again through his suit, he saw Kimball and Rommwel racing each other back and forth across the length of the base. Heh.

-- recoillessBifurcation [RB] began trolling intrepidStalker [IS] --

[RB]: I. Love. 4lchemiz4tion.
[RB]: I just...my 6o6, so much fun if you've 6ot the p4tience. 4ll the firepower. 4ll of it.
[RB]: 4nd I h4ve 4 sprite now, too..you'll never believe wh4t it w4s prototyped with.
[RB]: There w4s 4nother coll4pse 4 little while 46o. Knocked 4 poster off my w4ll...of my 4ncestor. My sprite is my 4ncestor. I 4m the luckiest troll EVER.

[Vipervertical]

Perzac watched the countdown worriedly. What did it mean? Was it a weapon? Maybe a gateway? A timer till the game truly began? This was too confusing. He pulled his horns in confusion, eventually glancing up for no reason. And suddenly it made sense.

In the air above his hive, bearing down on him....was a meteor. Shining brightly as it tore through the Alternian atmosphere. He was no astronomy expert like Arquua, but if he had to guess, he'd say it would hit in about 5 minutes or so. He glanced back at the countdown, which read just above five and a half minutes.

Oh no.

He quickly got to work on making the extra Captchalouge cards. Perzac wasn't exactly certain why he was doing this, but Wytmonde stressed its importance. And Wytmonde clearly knew more about what was going on than he did. He got about to alchemizing, as Wytmonde had called it. Making new items out of old ones. It was a strange process, and didn’t seem to be getting him any further out of this situation, but it was worth doing.

(((OOC: Skipping the alchemizations because I’m lazy and I suck at them. >_> Might edit them in here l8r.)))

He glanced skyward worriedly. It was definitely getting closer. He glanced at the Cruxtruder for the ETA.

4:13

Not good. Not good at all. The yellow sphere flitted about his head, as if it were attempting to get his attention. He swatted at it unthinkingly and it deftly avoided his hand. It continued to bother him. He growled, grabbing up the pelt of a dookbeast he'd recently skinned and tossing it at the thing. A brilliant flash lit his hive, forcing him to cover his eyes. When it was done, the sphere was replaced by a small mustelid that trailed off into a spectral tail where the hind legs should be. It chittered pointlessly at him, only causing more confusion. He resolved to simply ignore it for the time being.

He noticed a punched card fluttering by on the breeze. Instinctively he grabbed it from the air. He didn’t remember punching this card. He had hardly memorized the hole patterns, but this one was just...different. It felt…odd. On a whim, he inserted it into the Totem Lathe, watching it transform the Cruxite Dowel into another warped shape. Another worried glance at the Cruxtruder.

1:05

Whatever he was doing, he had better be quick. He placed the altered dowel upon the Alchemitter and fired it up. From the platform, a large yellow dresser materialized. It was…exactly the same as Arquua’s. He had been in her hive enough times to know what her room looked like. And this was ripped straight from it, except…it was completely yellow. Not only yellow, but the exact icterine hue of his blood. He reached out to touch it and it vanished, leaving only the mirror. Was it getting brighter? He glanced at the meteor, then the Cruxtruder.

0:15

Unsure of what to do, he stared at the reflection of himself in the icterine mirror. On a whim, he balled up his fist and smashed the mirror. Shattering the yellow glass as he screamed a mindless roar of emotion. The Cruxtruder continued to countdown emotionlessly.

0:04
0:03
0:02
0:01
0:00

[Sporky]

No answer from Perzac. Hmm. Oh well, he was probably off doing things, or at another part of the game. He brought up another holographic window, Perzac's server thingy...nothing. Blank white screen. Hmm. Probably something game-related.

He grabbed the pre-puncher card from his sylladex and looked at it. It felt odd, holding it...very odd. But oh well. He went through the alchemization motions. Get a totem from the cruxtruder, put it on the totem lathe, put the card in the lathe, watch the lathe get carved all fancily, and then finally put the lathe on the alchemitter.

Wytmonde honestly had no idea what the card would produce, but...what he got, he definitely wan't expecting. It created a short pole, holding a flag the same color as his sprite, that kind of sludgy, not quite his feldgrau blood but sorta similar shade of green. It fluttered in some unknown breeze, and Wytmonde suddenly felt both repulsed by it, and a strong desire to salute it. A lighter appeared in his hand, and he looked back and forth from the lighter, to the flag..no.

No.

Kimball and Rommwel entered his block, Kimball floating right up next to him.

"BURN IT, BOY."

"Are you crazy?! I can't burn a flag! It's...it's..."

Kimball floated around in front of Wytmonde, putting on his best drill seargant-esque sneer. Oh gog...Wytmonde knew what was coming.

"I DON'T RECALL GIVING YOU A CHOICE, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE GRUB. THAT WAS A FRELLING ORDER. NOW, YOU ARE GOING TO BURN THAT FLAG OR SO HELP ME GOG I WILL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR HEART OUT YOUR ASS AND SHOVE IT RIGHT BACK DOWN YOUR THROAT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

Wytmonde gulped. Again, despite the hollow echo to it, Kimball's voice was very booming, and very frightening. He trembled before the towering monument to mangrit that was his ancestor in sprite form..he couldn't disobey, could he?

"Y-yes, sir..."

"NOW YOU GO TORCH THAT THING LIKE IT'S A TERRORIST."

Wytmonde nodded. He flicked the lighter open, and approached the flag. He lit the flame, and held it against a corner of the flag's...fabric? He didn't touch the flag, not knowing what it would so. But it went up in flames incredibly easy. The moment the lighter's flame touched the corner of it, the entire flag went up.

There was a blinding flash.

Wytmonde was gone.

Kimball and Rommwel were gone.

All that was left of Wytmonde's hive was a large indent in the ground, which became a crater soon after, thanks to the meteor.