#interrogatormentor ritoly

[maroonian]

been a hot fucking minute since ive drawn these royal shitlords and the first thing i did was just look at the first time i drew these assholes and scream 'WHERES THE BEEF'

designs also improved upon

for the blog i run with @snarkmodeactivate over at @interrogatormentors

heads of the interrogatormentor department, interrogatormentor ritoly and interrogatormentor instructor rapard

[snarkmodeactivate]

interrogatormentors warrior cats au

tigerr kalwuh the mindscourge dopes his fellow interrogatormentor instructor rheddt tallea with mind honey and has him beaten to death during a training exercise. his trainee ravenh pwhaau hacks into the files and finds footage of tigerr doing this.

tigerr starts trying to have ravenh killed but luckily an asteroid homesteader named The Barleigh takes ravenh in and rehabilitates him. they're matesprits endgame

meanwhile the young mutant fyeiya harret has to grapple with the fact he is leading a rebellion against his ex-moirail, Her Imperial Blasphemy, (The Hereticc) Bluwen Stahrr who has gone insane and genocidal.

Starpaw (sollux, because when he ascends to the position of leader like fireheart does his name will be starstar... two star... sollux is named after the pollux and castor constellation twins [and warrior cats are only named after things they can find in nature]) is a kitten trapped in sburbia, until one day a feral cat named Waveroll (Gafera Ritoly) lures him to the woods and indoctrinates him into shadowclan. he serves in Minnowstar's (The Condesce)'s child army of apprentices. Minnowstar's kit, Featherwhisker (Feferi Peixes) is medicine cat and planning on poisoning Minnowstar to end her reign of terror with starpaw's help after he escapes to thunderclan. Featherwhisker's ex, the exiled warrior from thunderclan named Pondhunter (eridan ampora), is now Minnowstar's mate. it's awkward.

[interrogatormentors]

Event One: Initiation

TA: well ii gue22 thii2 ii2 iit guy2 the drone2 caught up two me.

TA: 2ee you on the other 2iide.

-- twinArmaggedons [TA] has had their connection terminated! --

Every pawn has its place, even when it comes to trouble ships. Not every ship can go out in a blaze of starfire like the BC Unrelented who clawed its way through a Tyvalan invasion to self-destruct atop the heart of the enemy force. Not every ship can have the DC Oligarch’s honor of escorting Her Royal Condescension’s battleship through the deepest expanses of space. Some, like the BC Starskimmer Arisen, are where trolls are sent to atone.

Many ships had quirks early in their helmsman’s installment due to their individual natures, phobias of certain internal temperatures or certain planetary lifeforms included, but the Starskimmer refused taming. The battleship refused certain flight patterns, shut off water supplies for officers, transmitted unauthorized announcements over the intercom to incite confusion amongst the crew, and more. The helmsman received punishment each time. The resistance continued.

The intercom in Captain Pilthe’s quarters crackled once before the voice of a guard came through. “Sir, trouble in the brig.”

Pilthe groaned, kneading at his eyes with his palms. “If you say the word helmsman I’m scrapping that battery myself.”

A brief moment of silence fell before the guard continued. “Well, the doors won’t open, sir. Could be nothing,’cept the lights went out and the techies say they can’t get at the helmsman neither.”

Pilthe reached out to the intercom and without any hesitation smashed it with his bare fist. The blueblood stalked to the door, shouldering it open before slamming a crewmember against the wall. “The fucking helmsman’s protecting rebels now. I want that bastard decomissioned today.”

“Any luck getting to the helmsman or the prisoners?” Pilthe asked.

“No sir.”

“It’s been two days what the hell do you mean no fucking progress?” Pilthe dragged his hands down his face. “I didn’t sign on to play fucking siege warfare with a pissblooded battery!”

“Sir, if I can interrupt,” said a crewmember from the back. She held a tablet in her hand, eyes glued to the screen. “Brig’s been reporting near zero temperatures and lack of oxygen for a while.” She looked up then, bemusement spread across her face. “The prisoners say they’ll talk.”

Pilthe froze, but nodded slowly. “Get their intel, then. I need to file a new report.”

A week later Pilthe’s report fell onto the desk of Gafera Ritoly, head of the Alternian Interrogatormentor.

“Could be an asset,” the troll that dropped off the file said. “Don’t hear much about batteries resisting programming enough to perform professional interrogation work.”

“Thank you,” Ritoly said, and booked a trip to the Starskimmer without even reading the report. She knew already what she wanted.

“What is your name, helmsman?” Ritoly asked, hands folded behind her back. The helmsman before her seemed the only one not intimidated by her stance and Interrogatormentor-standard undercut.

“BC Starskimmer Arisen, helming code A1A100,” he said. His smirk caught on two, jagged fangs which poked outside his lip.

“Making me do all the work, Sollux Captor?” Ritoly said, head cocking to the side. She did not give the helmsman time to answer. “I read your captain’s reports. Very interesting, making those prisoners sing like little yellow featherbeasts. I have to say, you’ve caught my interest. You read my file too as I boarded, I assume.”

Sollux’s brows furrowed, mouth open just enough that the hook to reel him in would slip right in. “Yes,” he said. The cocky way he held himself had dissipated, leaving a baffled and socially useless troll with slumped shoulders. Helmsmen were so easy to read. “You’re Ritoly, of the Interrogatormentors. Look, I just did what I had to. If I didn’t clean that brig out we were just a target--”

“I don’t care” Ritoly said. She kept her face blank, but steepled her fingers in front of her torso. “You can forget your designation code. They filed for your decommission.” Sollux’s breathing hitched almost imperceptibly, eyes widening a micromillimeter. “You’re not going with the ship, Captor. The report was brought to me to have you repurposed as an Interrogatormentor.”

Ritoly took a few steps forward, the high heels of her boots making hardly a sound on the damp floor of the helmsblock. She reached out, dragging a finely sharpened claw along the helmsman’s chin.

“What do you say, Sollux Captor? How badly do you want to be a troll again?”

After two perigees of physical rehabilitation, the docterrors in charge declared Sollux fit to return to the fleet. The trip to the Interrogatormentor training facility took several days, after which a burly blueblood ushered him into a small orientation room with several other trolls. Ritoly stood at the front of the room, at the shoulder of an enormous seadweller with a voice that filled the entire room.

“The Interrogatormentor program is not a desk job, brats,” the seadweller said, lip curled into a snarl. “If you want something cozy and easy go be a damn foot soldier or hell, Low Admin should shoot you right into bulge-rotting oblivion. You will refer to me as Officer Rapard.” Rapard began pacing up and down the row of trolls before him, his eyes lingering only for a moment on Sollux with his sealed biowire ports and slouch. There seemed something false and stiff about his uncontrolled aggression, as if he knew just how much to yell to intimidate. The small maroon at the end of the row definitely looked ready to shit himself.

“Many of you will die in the training regime. Oh, were you hoping to get an easy ride, recruit?” he said, leaning into one seadweller’s face. Rapard walked away, leaving the other violet to tug his collar away from his sweaty gills. “You are all hopeless without the guidance you’ll get here. We’re going to tear you to shreds and put you back together into the finest daggers of the Fleet. Half of you will die in the process.We topple rebellions-- We topple civilizations. Dismissed!”

“God, I hope we don’t deal with him very often,” said the little maroon, who’d introduced himself as Ualona on the way out. “Doing okay, Mercuo?”

The seadweller glowered. “As if I need your concern. He said he’s the head trainer, so get used to it.”

“Geez.”

Sollux looked around at the others in the training squad, who were mostly quiet as they entered their bunking block. A tiny olive that couldn’t be older than seven tried to pick a bunk, but was grabbed by the scruff of his uniform and tossed aside by a purple. The purple settled down, her eyes closed, but growled as another young brownblood got within a foot of her bunk.

“Thought they didn’t let wigglers into the interrogatormentors,” Sollux said, causing the olive to flush.

“I’m almost eight, excuse you.”

“Don’t worry about him, Sparkles,” said a teal, jabbing an elbow right into Sollux’s ribs and ignoring his irritable hiss. “We’re all here for a reason.”