trolloled

[trolloled]

"(###) Hand_deformities_are_consistent_with_a_ghoul's. (###)"

"(###) But_the_glowing_is_new. (###)"

"(###) Nothing_normally_glows. (###)"

"(###) Have_seen_a_few_things_glow,_almost_always_bad. (###)"

=> All those times your body had mostly acted on instinct had occurred with glowing stuff. Usually really weird looking creatures frittering about, for the specifics of 'stuff'.

"(###) It_might_be_something_new_entirely. (###)"

"(###) I_don't_like_the_thought_of_that. (###)"

"(###) If_it_is_at_least_as_intelligent_as_the_average_wriggler,_that_would_be_a_very_bad_sign. (###)"

=> You can't build traps for things with sapience. Well, you can, but they take a lot more time than just a few simple spikes left near some meat.

=> You need to get a good look at whatever this thing actually is, her description is missing details. Stuff seasoned hunters should know to look for.

"(###) A_cave_would_be_ideal,_if_it_is_hiding_in_one. (###)"

"(###) Very_easy_to_corner_it_and_destroy_it. (###)"

"(###) Fret_not,_however. (###)"

"(###) I_am_prepared_for_climbing. (###)"

"(###) A_capable_combatant_prepares_their_body_for_any_type_of_terrain. (###)"

=> Oh no. They're a bootlicker...

=> You have to admit. The inkling of that was there before, but that just drove the nail in. You can't help but just feel... sad, for them, really.

=> You're no *rebel* per se, but all this "glory" talk, superiority, and hard separation never really made sense to you. When you were young, you sorta... waited for it to. For it to click. The same thing with the clurch and all the hullabaloo about the messiahs.

=> It never did. So one night, you quit bothering.

"... treason?"

=> You mumble, barely audible. Fuck, it's worse than you thought. But that isn't the most important thing at hand here.

=> Watching them move over to the trail left by... that thing, you listen to their hypothesis.

"That would'a been mine, yeah- from the other night."

"It looked like a normal troll from a distance. Closer inspection though? Body looked like it was withered. Deformed, large hands with thick claws."

"Didn't get the best look at its head, since I was more concerned with not dying. But its chest... it glowed when it started getting riled up."

=> You're withholding some details, as you're not really sure how to explain to him the rest of the matter in a way that'd be easily understood.

"If I had to guess, I think it had more than just a "basic" instinct. For one, it spoke- rather intelligently, even."

"Two, given the amount of narrow dodges I had, I'd really rather not underestimate it."

=> You walk over to the other trail where he's at, standing just a bit away. Pondering, you tilt your head slightly.

"Well. There's a few things I know that are off this way- couple caves, and some connected fissures. It's gonna get a bit steep in some parts."

[trolloled]

"(###) You_compare_the_fight_for_survival_amongst_kin_to_that_depravity? (###)"

"(###) What_lesson_can_be_learned_there? (###)"

"(###) What_experience_is_gained? (###)"

"(###) When_trolls_fight,_the_victor_brings_their_experience_to_the_glory_of_the_empire,_we_become_stronger_as_a_whole. (###)"

"(###) When_men_become_beasts_and_turn_from_the_empire,_they_give_nothing. (###)"

=> Your suspicion of them grows heavily. What sort of insanity grips a person so to make them even compare the two events? Trolls are not beasts, there are people and then there are things. The delineation is clear.

"(###) Such_monsters_have_no_place_amongst_us. (###)"

"(###) Their_only_service_is_in_death,_that_they_stop_wasting_our_resources_and_our_time. (###)"

"(###) I_suggest_you_think_on_this,_before_you_lose_yourself_to_thoughts_nearing_the_edge_of_treason. (###)"

=> You stand back up fully, still eyeing them suspiciously.

"(###) Now_then,_back_to_our_hunt. (###)"

"(###) I_suppose_the_first_trail_I_spotted_must_be_yours_then. (###)"

=> You gesture with a jerk of the head towards the initial trail you spotted. You couldn't tell it didn't lead off very far from here, but it more-or-less matched the direction you had found them in.

=> You take another look around the clearing, walking around the edge of it- there. The underbrush over there, you can see its been torn apart as if in a rush. You kneel slightly to sift through the broken weeds and bent grass.

"(###) Footsteps_and_disturbed_growths_here. (###)"

"(###) They_look_like_a_troll's,_but_no_shoes. (###)"

"(###) It_must_be_the_beast's,_or_a_very_unfortunate_passer-by. (###)"

"(###) If_you_fought_the_creature_then,_what_did_it_look_like? (###)"

"(###) Attempting_to_cut_off_your_escape_speaks_to_at_least_a_basic_predator's_instinct... (###)"

=> A very bad sign. Being at least somewhat capable of thought made zombies a real pain in the ass to deal with. They wouldn't fall for any old bait and they might even retain enough sense to hide.

=> That and the claws. What the hell had a person's foot but claws sharp enough to slice through the ground? A ghoul? This didn't feel like a ghoul, an intelligent one wouldn't hang around in a forest this long, and a wild one wouldn't have given up the chase so quickly.

"Oh, yeah. Nasty sets of claws on that thing. It was kind of cool, honestly- if concerning- to see it cut through the tree I was using as cover."

"And then trying to box me in."

=> You take one of your hands off of your rifle briefly to gesture to the walls scattered about.

"It didn't make getting away easy."

=> There's signs of your escape back the way you came, though you did manage a short range teleportation. So there's not much of a trail to follow there.

=> Though continuing northeast, further up the mountain, there is one to follow out of the clearing. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't be the easiest to spot. Disturbed underbrush, bare footprints left in the dirt. You yourself notice them, but you wait and see if he'll point them out first.

=> You do listen to his... spiel, you guess, about what you just said. With how he's been talking so far, you half expected that kind of reply. But it still confuses you, frankly.

"No. I don't."

"I don't cry for the turn-ee, either. Undeath is so commonplace on Alternia, that there are whole ecological niches that have formed as a result."

"Do you cry over a living troll that kills another? That's just survival. We're taught that if you didn't know them, then who cares. Why such strong feelings over an undead trying to eat?"

"When the time comes, a normal troll could be driven just the same to kill. Even eat, depending on the circumstances."

=> You don't really understand where he's coming from. What inspires these feelings of detest- so you're trying to poke a bit. This isn't necessarily what you believe.

"I don't think most normal trolls want to die. Or die twice, even. I'm sure plenty of those turned do think about just letting someone end it, though."

[trolloled]

Friend to people and animals & Bastard Supreme

[trolloled]

Repentance cover draft idea I like much better. No Jastes but I might try to fit him in on the middle sword’s reflection somehow.

This is tarot card inspired, a first for me.

The Eight of Swords symbolizes feeling trapped and oppressed by others, and powerless to change. Often the condition is self-imposed, but the cause is attributed to external influences. This card can also indicate the stubborn adherence to an ideal.

[trolloled]

outfice...

[trolloled]

"(###) Their_domain? (###)"

"(###) You_speak_in_riddles. (###)"

=> Though some part of you kind of gets what they mean. That same part also detests the idea of anything crossing into that domain, or worse, beckoning things into it.

=> You take an overall view of the clearing before you proceed into it. The rock walls immediately catch your attention - highly unusual looking. Were those even natural?

=> But if not, then how could something raise so much stone? Well, perhaps a geokinetic or extremely powerful telekinetic troll could do it. If there was one here, that wasn't any sign of their mutilation you could immediately spot.

=> You cautiously head further into it, kneeling by one of the gouges in the ground.

"(###) These_appear_to_be_claw_marks. (###)"

"(###) Not_uncommon_to_see_on_bark,_strange_to_see_something_sharp_enough_to_hew_dirt_so_cleanly. (###)"

"(###) No_signs_of_blood. (###)"

"(###) Two_or_more_parties_traded_blows,_but_nobody_was_the_victor. (###)"

=> Something this strong was bound to leave a visible trail nearby. You doubt any sort of armor could take a hit from these claws- well, maybe something in the fleet could, but your trench-coat wasn't exactly armored.

=> You cluck your tongue at the other troll's seeming pity for the state of ghouls.

"(###) No_less_than_they_deserve. (###)"

"(###) Do_you_cry_for_their_victims? (###)"

"(###) The_civilians_torn_limb_from_limb? (###)"

"(###) The_lusii_left_abandoned_as_their_charge_is_feasted_upon? (###)"

=> You make a motion as if spitting, but refrain from doing so in actuality for obvious reasons.

"(###) Had_they_a_conscience,_they_would_promptly_ask_for_execution. (###)"

"(###) Instead_they_console_themselves,_tell_themselves_that_the_act_of_becoming_a_monster,_of_eating_their_own_kin,_is_a_necessary_one. (###)"

"(###) 'Waste_not_sympathy_for_the_beasts,_when_the_time_comes,_they_will_feast_upon_you_all_the_same.' (###)"

=> You stand up from the marks, turning your vision towards the treeline. There should be signs of the monster's flight... or chase, either one. Broken limbs, smashed grass, there was no way for something to pass through this area without leaving a trail.

"Plenty of things."

=> You fail to elaborate on that front. Personally, you've only encountered the one fae that looked like a troll drowning in the lake not far off from the castle. But you know there's others.

"You could count it as beguilement, I guess. Trying to draw you into their domain, n' all."

"But if you just... don't go in, you're fine. They don't tend to leave."

=> Keyword: tend. You could be wrong, as you have been before.

=> Ahead lies a small clearing- above you, direct sight to the sky. The moons are still high and light the area. Immediately obvious and still present from your last encounter with this creature is several pillars and walls of rock jutting out from the ground in various places. Some trees had been knocked over and cut clean through as well.

"This is it."

=> You say, entering and looking around. Upon closer inspection, one could also notice deep gouges in the surroundings, like claws being raked. Clean, however- they were sharp as hell.

=> You're surprised that he has experience with sapient undead, but not that surprised. He seems to be playing a hunter, of some kind.

=> Though. You guess you are too, to a degree. More so, you're just trying to keep your home a little safer.

"They do burn. Seems an awful way to go, though."

"Not like many of them chose that life. Seems a little scary, even- waking up after a horrible dream that was all too real, feeling a pit in your stomach and the urge to sink your teeth into the closest person."

"What if that was a docterror, trying to help? A close friend mourning? Sucks."

=> You're starting to ramble a bit, your thoughts running. Though this doesn't mean you're distracted. Your ears flick some, taking note of the various sounds around you.

[trolloled]

Wreck and Wrest You

Hester Shawgh | Atlantis | Present Night 

Hester woke up gasping in his bed, arm clutched to his bloodpusher as he bent almost double, dry heaving.

Another daymare, despite his sopor patches. Dripping flesh, screeching metal on metal, and snapping jaws eating him alive. 

His cheap ones that tended to leak, admittedly; he peeled a few drops of dried green slime off his neck.

Maybe he should spring for the good stuff. The kind that knocked you out clean no matter what and let you sleep for like twelve hours.

Then again, he doubted he’d feel rested even if he slept for that long, and he’d miss some good work opportunities. 

Right. Work. He was scheduled to take apart a decommissioned fishing vessel tonight. 

Not one of the little skiffs some of the folks he knew had, the kind almost everyone in Atlantis had been out on at some point; this was the real deal, some top of the line high-tech craft with huge nets and fine-tuned radar, the whole nine yards. Only about ten sweeps old; kind of odd it was being taken off the line.

Still, he sighed longingly. Maybe he could actually make some good money.

The greenblood changed quickly. He was in a rush, but he also just…hated looking at himself, now.

He’d never been vain, but being a mess of terrifying technology, hosting the creature it contained…

Boots. Which pair?

He looked over his collection with a critical eye. He had four different sets, depending on what kind of job he was going to - how wet it would likely be, what terrain it was on, and if he had to worry about wildlife or zombies trying to get at him, or if he should plan for sharp rocks or slippery algae.

This ship would probably be mostly metal. He’d have to be careful of sharp parts and avoid getting diseases from them, but he shouldn’t have to worry too much about the rest; most of it was above water, he’d been told, which was nice. 

Sure, he’d been diving in wrecks before, but it wasn’t something he’d do unless he had to. Dry ones were dangerous enough; the sunken bits were only for the brave, stupid, or desperate.

Unfortunately he’d been the last of those often enough.

He checked his supplies in his waterproof backpack; rope, flares, flashlight, some dried meat and fruit, and always his cargo hook. He gripped it briefly, the weathered wood and the smooth metal comforting; he knew every inch of it better than his own hands. 

He’d carved and inked his initials into the brown handle long ago, to ensure everyone knew it was his. One of the few things he owned that deserved the trouble.

As he left his hive, he passed his father napping on one of the rocks outside of it.

The small dragon cracked one eye open to look at his charge, but merely yawned and adjusted position with a flop, not acknowledging the greenblood at all otherwise.

“Love you too.” The midblood muttered as he walked onward through the grass toward the beach at a brisk pace. The original critic, before his dad had been upstaged by -

Focus, Hester.

He reached the shore soon enough, his pusher sinking as he realized how many other trolls were already there chattering about the job. Two dozen, at least.

Just how big was this ship? Or was there something else they weren’t telling the salvagers.

Stupid question; there was always something they didn’t tell the salvagers.

Then a neat purple in a nice suit - almost humorous in how out of place he looked among the more roughly dressed and scarred scavengers, stepped in their midst. Strangely, he also wore a green pin that looked sort of like a crown.

He was flanked by two bodyguards, generic-looking meatheads who Hester was almost sure had come directly from one of the dramas he sometimes listened to on the radio. Grunt one and grunt two.

He smiled politely, his face - to the greenblood - almost unnaturally smooth and clean, then cleared his throat and began talking. 

“Salvagers! You may notice there are more of you than usual. This is because I doubt all of you will want to take this job. In the interest of transparency, I must inform you that there are extra risks involved with this ship. However, there are accordingly extra rewards involved as well.”

Hester was unmoved. If he had a caeger for every time he heard that spiel…

Extra rewards if you brought things back in impossibly perfect condition. Extra rewards if you could haul more than any troll sensibly could without wrenching their arms out of their sockets and made yourself a slow-moving target for any predators on the waves who thought you looked tasty.

Extra rewards if there were only a few of you left so they avoided having to give too much of a payout.

The purple pressed hands together, still smiling.

“This ship was decommissioned thanks to an infestation of humming-wasps, which unfortunately made rather quick work of any crew who did not escape in time.”

Hester grimaced.

Not the worst zombie type - he’d take them over the aquatic ones - but they were hard to hit, relentless, and fast.

Their puppeted troll bodies, while slow, were hard to put down. Plus, the things were smart enough to coordinate and attack trolls on both sides with their stolen corpses and in swarms.

“So you’re telling us those things are still there?” One troll demanded, a brownblood with crossed arms and more piercings than he could count.

The purpleblood nodded.

“I’m afraid there’s valuable cargo and equipment that exterminating them at range would damage. Which is why we need you to handle them, and bring back everything you can.”

The brownblood looked mutinous, but clearly wasn’t stupid enough to properly mouth off to someone so high caste.

Smart move. 

Hester never bothered; he might not be a lowblood, but it wasn’t like an olive was worth much more to these trolls. He’d be backhanded just the same for speaking out of turn. 

He was a salvager. That marked his place more clearly than any caste hue. 

The rusts and yellows around him sure didn’t give a fuck that he was technically above them, and over time he’d learned not to either.

“So!” The highblood said, still wearing the smile Hester was learning to treat with extreme distrust. “Who still wants to take the job?”

Hester put his own hand up. A few other trolls raised their own, somewhat halfheartedly. A few seconds passed, and another five put up theirs.

Everyone else kept theirs down.

A silence settled among the salvagers, and then those who refused began walking away, leaving about half their original numbers.

A cold wind blew, even though it was a fairly warm night. Almost warm enough that wearing his coat would be suspicious, but no way in hell was he taking it off. Not with what he looked like now.

His horns got a few looks, but it would be so much worse if people saw he was almost more - he didn’t even know what, metal and some alien material - than he was flesh and blood. 

“That’s settled, then.” Said the highblood smoothly. “You brave souls will go in these boats and retrieve as much as possible before the night is out. Please return before dawn, or you will not be paid.”

They all grunted or muttered assent; that was typical for salvage jobs. Most employers were impatient, like they had a fire lit under their ass for whatever reason.

At least it wasn’t far. They’d all been forewarned of the location, and it was programmed into the motorboats’ navigation system anyway.

None of them wasted time piling into the two small motor boats and staring them up. They all knew what to do; most of them had worked together before or at least seen each other around. 

There was only one troll Hester didn’t know at all - the brownblood who’d spoken up - but a maroon and a teal he knew moderately well both treated them with sarcastic affection, so they must not be too bad.

He smiled slightly, content to listen to the others banter as he took lookout for dragons or sea serpents. He tried to keep his ability to speak to them on the downlow, but salvagers were shameless gossips. 

Luckily, he rarely got shit for it; some trolls even understood how useful it was and appreciated what he did.

Always nice when that happened.

The trip over was uneventful - a small sea serpent snapped at them, but was easily driven off - and a dragon passed overhead, big enough that its shadow covered their boats, but it didn’t seem interested in eating them.

As they approached the ship, Hester whistled at the sheer size of it, and he wasn’t alone in doing so.

Had a nest of humming-wasps really been enough to take over this behemoth?

From the skepticism on the faces of the others, he could tell they were feeling the same way even before they started talking about it.

“There’s gotta be some other critter in here.”

“Would bet money, yeah.”

“Doubt it’s dragons or serpents. Not the kind of place they like.”

“Ghosts?”

“Could be. Jakken, you can see ghosts, right?”

“More hear them. My sight is kind of blurry unless they’re like right in front of me.”

“Better than nothing.”

“Just don’t ask me if any of them are hot.”

“Who the hell wants to fuck a ghost?”

“You’d be shocked and amazed - ”

Hester chuckled and finally spoke up.

“Very funny, guys, but let’s get going, we’re burning moonlight.” He reminded them. 

Jakken, the rust who’d been talking to the bronze, was - as far as he knew - younger than he was (as were most of the others), so they got distracted sometimes.

Jakken stuck her tongue out at the greenblood, ears flicking, but didn’t argue and helped him bring their boat to the dock near the fishing ship so they could tie it up. Luckily, they were still in relatively calm, shallow waters.

At least the door to the ship’s lower level was clearly marked; had a great big biohazard sign on it and a notice that no one except authorized personnel should enter by order of Thadus Valent.

Given the purple ink it was signed in, he had no trouble imagining who that was.

“‘Authorized personnel.’” The pierced bronze snorted. “Fuckin’ highbloods.”

“Some of them are worse.” Said their teal friend - Detria - cheerfully. “At least he didn’t talk for fifty sweeps.”

The bronze sighed at that, but didn’t argue.

All of the salvagers had their weapons out and light sources on as they got ready to open the door, fully ready to walk into an ambush. 

But as the door slowly creaked open, they didn’t see or hear anything of note. Not a sound of a humming-wasp’s distinctive drone, nor any sign of nests. There wasn’t any trace of the creatures’ puppeted troll corpses either. 

Hester saw his own unease reflected in his companions’ faces. Much better to get the fighting out of the way now instead of being on edge until they were ambushed.

Too bad the flesh-eating insect-birds were apparently elsewhere.

The salvagers filed in, still wary, eyes glancing around and ears perked for any signs of life. Two made sure to keep the door propped open with a rope tied to a handle on the wall. 

Sure, something could come in, but with humming-wasps, it was worth that risk to have an easier escape route.

That done, they agreed two teams of six were best; they could cover more ground and signal each other with flares in emergencies, meeting back up at the door in an hour (no one’s phones were sending messages, inside the ship as they were).

Hester co-led his team with Detria. He wished he could’ve gone with Jakken just for her ghost sight, even if it was flawed. 

But Detria at least was calm, cheerful, and her olm lusus now curled around her neck had acute hearing and smell even if it was blind. Her mother had warned them of danger several times before, and Hester trusted her and her charge the most of the whole crew.

They spread out, but kept within reach of each other’s lights.

They didn’t find any humming-wasps on the first floor they searched, but they didn’t find anything particularly valuable yet either. Just junk and rotted food, a few rats squeaking as they ran away from the group.

Heater noticed one odd thing, though. He picked up a green crown pin as he searched with his flashlight. It looked like the twin of the one Valent had been wearing.

He showed it to the others.

Detria squinted at it.

“It looks familiar, but I couldn’t tell you what it means.” She said in a low voice. Everyone was keeping quiet just in case, though the group had relaxed slightly.

Hester shrugged and tucked it in his pack. He could ask around when they got back.

They went down to the next level, closer to the cargo hold. 

Still nothing.

Hester’s unease grew as he looked around, grateful again that he had his other eye back for situations exactly like these. He knew it never would have happened without Alcyone, even if she’d only done it for herself. 

Where were the humming-wasps?

Why was everything so quiet?

Why were Detria and her lusus falling apart in two clean pieces that poured teal blood right in front of him?

Hester yelled and the other trolls did too, and as he yelled his body jumped to the side - Alcyone - as what he now realized was a giant whiplike stinger from above tried to cleave him in two as well. 

He didn’t fight it - she was, admittedly, better with his cyborg body - and he tried to assess the situation, gripping his flashlight like a lifeline as he pointed it upward.

The greenblood could barely comprehend what he was seeing, especially as it moved like lightning. It lashed at another troll instead, who screamed and collapsed.

A daymarish hybrid of humming-wasp and troll, sized up to be as long as five or six people put together. 

It swung its tail again.

Hester spat fire at it with everything he had, expecting a backlash of pain.

It didn’t come.

He twinged a bit, that was all.

Had Alcyone -

The thing jumped down and clawed at him with one horribly long, warped arm made of feathered segments and skin.

Alcyone moved him to dodge again, his boots thankfully not slipping on the blood now spilling over the floor, and he spat more fire.

His throat hurt, but he was otherwise fine.

The rest of his team wasn’t as the creature buzzed and lashed out at them.

Hester ached to help them, knowing he shouldn’t throw himself in recklessly, that he had to save himself; and it wasn’t just his life on the line.

It made an almost piercing drone, one that hurt his ears, and summoned more humming-wasps.

They flew out from behind containers, in cracks in the walls. They had all been hiding, waiting for the trolls to come closer.

None of this was normal behavior for the species. None of this was something they had been properly prepared for.

Rage boiled up inside the greenblood as the creatures attacked his friends, avoiding him.

He clenched his fists, set his feet, and roared more loudly than a troll throat should.

A corona of orange and green light flared around his head in the shape of a dragon’s maw, and the humming-wasps faltered, then fled.

The hybrid paused.

Then it twisted, extended folded limbs on its sides he hadn’t realized were there, and killed the last two trolls of his team in seconds anyway, goring them through their stomachs.

Hester stared, corona still flickering around his head.

Then he spat his last burst of fire, coughing horribly, dripping with sweat, but landing it right in the many faceted eyes of the creature as it teetered, slumped, and finally fell dead.

He sat down heavily, breathing hard, trying to get his breath back.

His eyes fell on a smaller boat in the hold, held up on a wheeled platform. Some sort of sleek, high-tech one like the ship itself. It was even in pretty good condition.

Alcyone would probably know something about how it worked.

No doubt this was the sort of thing Valent had wanted. 

Hester knew he couldn’t rest for long.

Alcyone had been right. He couldn’t keep going like this. 

Not anymore.

–

The other team hadn’t made it either.

He’d waited a few hours on the dock. They hadn’t come back.

Hester hadn’t searched for them. He knew better. And he imagined Alcyone might have had something to say about that - not that he’d have blamed her. 

So he’d taken one of the motorboats back, the cold wind whipping his hair around, sharp against his throat when he breathed.

He hardly cared.

As he came back to the beach he’d left earlier, Valent was there with his thugs and his shitty smile.

Hester, blank-faced, brought the boat in, and got off. 

“Well?” Asked Valent pleasantly. “What did you retrieve?”

“Nothing.” Said Hester shortly, not wanting to speak with his sore throat. “Sorry.”

Valent frowned slightly, but it was gone in a moment.

“Too bad! Well, have a nice night, Mr. Shawgh.”

Hester paused.

Valent seemed amused.

“Of course I know your name. The others talk about you.”

“Not many people left to talk about me now.” He said, voice rough, then coughed.

The purpleblood shook his head. 

“Ah, so they are deceased. A pity.”

Hester nodded, then went further off down the beach before he tried to throttle the man.

He sat down on the warming sand. Dawn would be here soon.

They didn’t mourn each other. That was their deal.

The greenblood only took a few moments of silence for them. They’d have disapproved of more.

Then he got up and began the walk home, hands in his pockets, head bowed.

An orange-green spark flared in his eyes, and his cargo hook shifted in his pack, freshly used in defiance of the dragon troll's lie.

[trolloled]

"(###) Convinced? (###)"

"(###) What_would_want_me_to_go_into_the_water? (###)"

=> Is there some sort of apex predator capable of speaking Alternian, which then uses that to trick people into entering water to drown them?

=> You'd think you would have heard of such a deadly creature if that was the case.

"(###) I_have_encountered_many_strange_things. (###)"

"(###) Some_things_that_attempted_to_trick_or_beguile_me... (###)"

"(###) But_nothing_asking_me_to_step_into_water. (###)"

=> What they all failed to understand was that they had nothing to offer you that you valued, beyond (usually) their death.

=> You nod your head at their next question.

"(###) Typically_lone_hunters. (###)"

"(###) They_don't_operate_in_packs_as_their_animal-like_fellows. (###)"

"(###) Not_very_many,_though,_they_seem_to_be_fairly_rare. (###)"

"(###) Their_enhanced_strength_and_reflexes_are_dangerous,_but_they_burn_just_like_anything_else. (###)"

=> You glance back briefly, then look back ahead.

"Neither of those- well. I'm sure there's some that are rather hot. But no, that's not what I was getting at."

"For one, the undead that do enter the water don't always become immobile. Secondly, you may be convinced to try and enter through variable efforts."

"No matter what you hear. Or what you see- don't go in. Seriously."

=> You look back again.

"Won't really be time to regret it."

"And yeah, that's what I was thinking. So clearly, it's not so mindless to continue running around out here."

=> Strange, you don't necessarily mind. But this is a bit more than that. Finally, you draw your gun to hold in both hands. An older bolt-action model that you've restored- a strange insignia of some kind is burned into the stock.

=> Since you're drawing closer, you think it'd be better to have it closer to hand now.

"Ever see a ghoul that's retained its sapience?"

[trolloled]

"(###) Everything_leaves_a_trail. (###)"

=> The last place it was spotted would be perfect, really. You can tell a lot from the trail something leaves behind, like what it chooses to investigate, how much effort it puts into hiding, and so on.

=> You quickly follow after them, assuming the rear guard position in this 2-person lineup you've got going here. You haven't had a lot of chances to practice this. It's a bit of a challenge to walk backwards while avoiding walking into something and constantly checking to make sure you're keeping up and haven't wandered off.

=> But you'd be a terrible soldier-in-training if you couldn't.

"(###) I_have_noticed_the_hazardous_terrain,_yes. (###)"

"(###) What_is_wrong_with_the_water? (###)"

"(###) Merely_high_in_temperature? (###)"

"(###) Or_does_it_hold_flesh_eating_bacteria? (###)"

=> Hard to miss the active volcano in the area based on your preliminary research. You had to bring a physical map with you here, and forget determining north if the sky was clouded..

=> Stranger still that an undead would remain active here, then. Surely something should have consumed it by now.

"(###) Very_strange,_this_creature's_continued_presence. (###)"

"(###) I_do_not_like_strange. (###)"

"(###) It_should_have_become_victim_to_one_of_those_hazards_you_have_mentioned_by_now. (###)"

=> ....

"Reconnaissance is also what I was up to."

"I can show you to where I encountered it last time. Doubt it'll be there again, but it's a starting point."

=> Fate's a funny thing, sending someone like this your way. So long as he doesn't stray too far, you could protect him if it came down to being necessary.

=> Civilians. He's technically one of those, too.

=> You turn to walk past this stranger, off to the northeast. The path seems to fade in this direction, leaving one less landmark to follow. But you know this neck of the woods like the back of your hand.

=> Hope he can keep up- you walk fast.

"Yes, undead. Was honestly surprised, considering there's actually not a lot of those in the area. They mostly gather down the mountain."

"If any, you'll find them stuck in a fissure, or meandering into a lava flow. Or into a body of water- lots of those around here."

"... Don't go into any water, by the way."

=> The mountains around here are dangerous. Not just because of the nasty spirits and fae, but also because of there being an active volcano. There's a fair bit of tectonic activity, and compasses don't really work here either. Only adding to people who go missing.

[trolloled]

"(###) Civilians_die_from_ignorance_at_an_extreme_rate. (###)"

"(###) 'Concern_yourself_not_with_their_plight,_only_the_fight_ahead. '(###)"

=> If people are determined to get themselves killed, you won't stop them, just as it appears this one is as unwilling to leave as you are.

"(###) Undead? (###)"

"(###) So_it_is_not_living,_both_fortunate_and_unfortunate. (###)"

=> Fire might still be useful, but undead lack the psychological fear of fire that living things do. Also, they don't exactly breathe or have much care for their eyes usually, so most chemical weapons have no effect.

=> You still have a few options though. Fire could still burn it away, plus you have different grenades on you, besides the rudimentary fragmentation variety.

=> Also your trusted crowbar. Hard to ignore your head getting impaled by it.

"(###) A_smart_soldier_is_prepared_for_most_situations_ahead_of_time. (###)"

"(###) Additionally,_how_would_I_prepare_myself_for_something_if_I_could_not_study_it? (###)"

"(###) This_is_a_reconnaissance_mission. (###)"

"(###) I_never_said_I_intended_to_destroy_it_tonight,_only_that_I_will_be_here_until_I_can_destroy_it. (###)"

=> If it was undead, was it staying here because prey kept finding it? Surely it should have mindlessly wandered towards the largest food source nearby by now, meaning the town. You needed to get a good look at it, preferably from a hidden vantage point.

=> Even better if you could find it accosting someone. Their death could teach you a great deal... assuming it wasn't a boring 'just eats you' zombie, but the steady drum beat in your gut warns you that isn't the case.

"... Okay. Trust me, it's not meaningless."

=> You are mildly relieved that he's got some contingency for putting out said fire. You can also likely do something yourself, but y'know. Preventing it in the first place, and all.

=> A momentary pause from you.

"Sorry. We get a lot of.. tourists around these parts. They don't like to listen, even if it's in their best interest. And they're not usually very... bright."

"Which leads them out here. And then usually to their deaths, undeaths, or worse fates."

=> There is still an opportunity for this guy to go back to town. He could take it. There's enough of a path to follow south back down the mountain. But you get the feeling he won't.

"I might know. Personally I'm looking for an aforementioned undead thing."

=> That is as detailed as you're getting. For now.

"You're not even sure what you're looking for, though? Are you not like, worried about not being prepared for whatever "it" is?"

[trolloled]

"(###) I_am_aware_of_how_fire_works. (###)"

"(###) I_assure_you,_your_meaningless_sentimentality_for_ecology_is_being_accounted_for. (###)"

"(###) I_brought_extinguisher_charges,_I_have_planned_for_firebreaks,_I_have_studied_counterfires_and_utilized_them. (###)"

"(###) I_also_have_the_local_weather_forecast,_along_with_the_current_known_risk_of_spread_for_wildfires_and_current_length_of_the_dry_season. (###)"

=> Highblood arrogance, what else is new? Just assuming you have your thinkpan dribbling out in the backyard of your hive. If you had a yard.

=> ...Of course, normally you wouldn't give a damn about the forest, so they'd be more-or-less right, but you did promise Sochet you'd try to stop giving the wildfire crews as much work.

"(###) As_I_said,_I_am_here_to_remove_what_infests_this_place. (###)"

"(###) I_will_not_leave_until_it_is_done. (###)"

"(###) Something_is_here_that_has_no_business_being_here. (###)"

"(###) Much_more_than_that,_I_cannot_say. (###)"

"(###) As_you_'live'_here,_then_surely_you_must_know_of_my_quarry. (###)"

=> And they don't, then they should turn around and leave. You can't protect them and focus on hunting. But rarely does anyone listen when you warn them about this, despite the logic of it all.

=> You eye the flamethrower. Purging. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, though the idea is markedly below genius. Perhaps about 30-40 rungs below it. Into the ground. Maybe even into hell.

=> You briefly consider slinging the butt of your gun around to smack this guy upside the head to knock him out. However, maybe- just maybe- he can be reasoned with.

"Me? I'm more than capable of protecting myself without this thing."

"And I live here. So I think I know this place just a tad better than you, buddy."

=> You shrug your shoulder, readjusting the rifle.

"Do you have a deathwish? Plan on burning these woods to the ground? Do you fucking know how much hell that's going to wreak on this place? Fantastically stupid."

=> A forest fire at the height of wildfire season would destroy the local area. Not to mention, a large enough one could cause even more problems when the place is normally, docile enough.

=> So long as people aren't running around messing with things they shouldn't.

=> ... He couldn't possibly mean that thing you came across. An undead like something you've never really seen before. Two bodies, but... an immense energy, like a whole horde. Whole souls, conjoined. Piled upon each other.

=> Bizarre, a bit terrifying. But fascinating. You figured you shouldn't leave it here to fester, alone. Something about it doesn't feel right.

"So what are you really here for?"

[trolloled]

"(###) I_would_suggest_not_alerting_entire_forest_to_our_presence. (###)"

=> You hiss, just barely audible over the thin, hoarse rattle of your mask's air filter working to clean... whatever was actually in the air, as you pull yourself from the brush. You absently wipe off a few stray leaves clinging to your overcoat.

=> Grasped in the other hand was the wand of your customary flamethrower. cautiously pointed towards the ground rather than at the person speaking at you. Your finger still remained just next to the trigger guard.

=> Your "work", such as it was, was always taking you to new, strange places, to meet even weirder things. Typically, you'd follow that up by killing them.

=> But first: Education.

"(###) Do_you_have_a_deathwish? (###)"

"(###) Get_your_weapon_ready_to_shoot. (###)"

"(###) It_cannot_fire_from_behind_your_shoulder_and_kill_your_target. (###)"

=> You return your free hand to your wand, unseen eyes squinting at the strange troll.

"(###) Now:_I_know_where_I_am. (###)"

"(###) These_lands_are_infested,_though_entirely_with_what,_I_am_unclear_on. (###)"

"(###) I_am_here_to_purge_it. (###)"

"(###) Now,_you? (###)"

=> You don't know with what because you've felt compelled to come here, and you're only compelled to go places with 'problems'. You can't tear yourself away from this place so long as that compulsion is beating a sledgehammer into your brain.

=> You walk down a slightly worn path, careful not to kick any rocks or other debris as you go. Making noise around the forests of Blackstone would not be the most beneficial- drawing too much attention.

=> Something different is out here. More different from the usual malicious spirits and fae causing tourists to go missing or fueling the fireside ghost stories. You came across it before, having to retreat because you were not ready for a fight.

=> This time is different, however. Slung over your shoulder is one of your old, trusty hunting rifles to serve as your defense- and a focus. Should the threat be less mundane than you thought.

=> The only thing is... you thought you were otherwise alone out here. There was some rustling ahead, and sure enough- it's another troll. Or what appears to be one, anyway. It doesn't feel like an imposter.

"Hey."

=> You speak out.

"Are you lost, pal? Did you not listen to like, any of the warnings from trolls in town telling you not to go out in the woods?"

[trolloled]

Hester isn’t overly self conscious of his scars, but he doesn’t love them either.

[trolloled]

Parody Mycelium

Report #03

Designation: Anomalous Entity-02, "Parody Mycelium"

Classification: Local-Safe (Subnote: Potential for Regional-Catastrophic or Destructive if not contained, consider category update)

Status: Contained, neutralization IN-PROGRESS

Description: AE-02 is not a singular being. It is a fungal colony that grows as milky-white mushrooms with yellow tinges on the sides of the caps and stalks, which are commonly conical in shape. Fungus reproduces via spores which are spread through the movement of AE-02-b (see anomalous properties below). Spores attach to fertile soil when available and grow per typical mushroom growth patterns. When inhaled in sufficient quantity by a living creature, spores will take root inside creature and begin to grow, similar to the cordyceps fungus noted in insects.

Location: [REMOVED]

Containment Procedures: AE-02's primary colony is currently restricted to a lowblood hive located at [REMOVED], designated AE-02-HIVE. Barriers to trespassers have been erected on paths leading to this building and are monitored by motion detectors and cameras. No persons should enter the building without wearing a particulate filter mask, rated N95. All barriers are marked with a number for inquiries, which redirects to an automated system warning of an imperial study being performed on a dangerous pathogen. Personnel experimenting with AE-02 are required to undergo decontamination and isolation for a period of 3 nights following exposure. The doors and windows of AE-02-HIVE have been replaced with reinforced steel barriers, which are to be locked at all times remotely without express authorization from the Legionary Council. The ground surrounding AE-02-HIVE shall be monitored for any signs of fungal growth, which should be contained and destroyed immediately via acidic spray and excavation of any fungal networks.

Anomalous Properties: AE-02 is a mushroom with delayed lethality. Upon ingestion of a full stalk (hypothesized) or sufficient inhalation of spores, any living creature will be transformed into AE-02-a. The process of this transformation on trolls unknown, as experiments on this were determined unethical. Experiments performed on mice revealed transformation into AE-02-a takes place within minutes upon ingestion of sufficient material. AE-02-a subjects are separate and distinct from AE-02-b, "spore carriers". AE-02-a subjects appear to be corpses of those heavily infected by AE-02. They are typically located in a hidden location and are kept alive via AE-02 infestation assuming digestive and respiratory functions. Sometime after AE-02-a is created, a copy of the subject (AE-02-b) is created. AE-02-b will only appear when AE-02-a is not in the physical presence of another sapient being, and will only occur from a full AE-02 colony of fungus (AE-02-a cannot create AE-02-b on its own).

AE-02-b appear visually similar to their originating AE-02-a sources, even wearing what initially appear to be clothes (in the case of trolls), but which are actually a vast fungal network. There is no heartbeat that can be detected from such creatures, nor typical brainwave activity. AE-02-b will mimic actions and habits that the original creature performed in life, such as movement through a particular area, basic repetitive motor functions, and is capable of limited dialogue if mimicking a troll. Movements of AE-02-b induce exhalation to simulate respiratory function, but rather than needing to breathe, these exhalations spread the spores of AE-02. The skin of AE-02-b is waxy and yellow, with fungal growths evident across the body in a variety of areas. AE-02-b typically express mild confusion and incoherence on being addressed in the case of trolls, and erratic behavior in the case of animals.

AE-02-b are not inherently hostile, but will defend themselves if attacked. AE-02-b appear to be animated via direct control of the copied nervous, skeletal, and muscular system by AE-02. Research has theorized that control is only exercised if a colony of AE-02 is within relative proximity, but this is still being studied. If contained, AE-02-b (both animal and troll) are compliant and will remain in secured areas until released.

As AE-02-b are copies of creatures, they also contain fungal copies of all vital and non-vital organs. These appear to have no purpose. Review of organs by medical experts, however, has shown these organs are fully capable of their non-mushroom versions' functions. Removal of organs does not result in AE-02-b termination. Termination in subjects occurs when sufficient breakdown of the body has been effected, either via conventional weaponry, fire, or acidic spray. When terminated, AE-02-b release a voluminous cloud of AE-02 spores. It is noted that inhaling this cloud without protection will cause the creation of AE-02-a, and from there, AE-02-b.

Each instance of AE-02-b will be eventually replaced by the controlling AE-02 colony so long as their AE-02-a version exists, however, only one copy of each creature appears to exist at a time.

Neutralization Log: Destruction of AE-02 has been authorized, however, research is ongoing into how to safely destroy the entirety of the colony without risk of spreading spores outside containment. If AE-02-HIVE is burnt to the ground, there is a high risk of ambient wind carrying newly released spores into the air and spreading them across the surrounding forest.

Use of sterilizing acid has been considered, distribution of sufficient amounts to neutralize the entire colony is still being researched.

Fortunately, the only instance of AE-02-a outside of experimentation appears to be its sole victim. The original colony of AE-02 may well be the only colony in the wild at this point in time. Potential medical benefits from AE-02 are being considered until neutralization has been completed. [X - Unlikely. Cordyceps fungi studies are scarce but rarely have any noticeable health effects. We don't have time to sit around staring at a mushroom for 50 sweeps to figure out if it might inhibit dementia by a few perigees.]

Research Avenues:

Duplication of organs [X: Don't bother. Nobody wants a mushroom based organ when a mechanical one is more widely available and less vile]

Neurodegeneration Therapy [See above]

Anti-Fungal Countermeasures [Mild potential]

Bio-Weapon Potential [Absolutely not.]

Low Cost Mushroom Clone Labor [No.]

Fungal Communication in Trolls [This is how you start a zombie apocalypse]

Research Results:

Anti-Fungal Countermeasures: In consultation with third party fungus experts, along with local hospital administrator Doctor [REMOVED], prototype anti-fungal gas has been developed from samples collected of the colony of AE-02. The gas disperses quickly and becomes inert, therefore, a large volume or close dispersal of it near targets is necessary.

The chemical makeup is as follows: [AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED]

Following from this, Anti-Fungal Gas (AFG) has been placed into 'gas grenades' similar to those used to disperse tear gas. Targets within three meters (approx.) when grenade detonates a standard payload are affected.

Targets with minimal or no fungal infection experience a small tingling sensation throughout their body as gas makes contact. These targets are otherwise unaffected apart from mild irritation in the mucous membranes.

Targets who have been converted into AE-02-b become paralyzed for up to ten minutes, depending on concentration of gas absorbed. The effect is produced by targeting the communications network of the fungus inhabiting the nervous system, which is required to move the body. Subjects appear to be aware during this period, but are unable to retaliate against unwanted movement or injury. Exposed caps and stalks are noted to visibly wither and wilt. Upon recovery, caps remain withered in appearance but begin to restore themselves within 24 hours. AFG is ineffective for removal of fungus itself.

Effect on more benign fungal infections in general population has not been tested. Research recommends against inhaling gas regardless of state of infection.

AFG will be distributed to areas having reports of high fungus activity, which should provide a wider array of testing data on different species of fungus.

[trolloled]

"Welcome Home," Said No One

Celees looked down at her dead palmhusk as she made her way back to her hive. She missed the crew she bonded with over the last six perigees at sea. What she expected to be a miserable experience turned out to be one of the best of her life. For the first time, she got all the attention and positive reinforcement she could ever want, and she even learned several new skills.

The option to stay with them was incredibly tempting, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon her life. She missed her friends, her hive, and her lusus. It was fun while it lasted, but she needed to get back to her normal, and the first thing on the list was charging her palmhusk as soon as she got back to her hive so she could tell her friends she was okay.

When she arrived home, she hoped to be greeted by her lusus after her extended absence. Instead, the massive centipede was nowhere to be seen. She was disappointed, but not surprised. She was probably out hunting on her own since Celees hadn't been around to feed her. She sighed and trudged inside and was shocked to see a much younger oliveblood gaping back at her.

"What th-- Who the fuck are you!?" Celees demanded and equipped her clubs. The olive scrambled and equipped a dagger.

"This is my hive! I found it fair and square!" he shouted threateningly and pointed the dagger at her. Celees sneered at him.

"The fuck it is! I was gone for a while, but this is still my hive! Now get the fuck out!" she threatened and held her clubs threateningly. The younger troll rushed at her aiming for a stab, but Celees activated her chucklevoodoo and took control of one of his legs to make him trip and nearly land on his dagger. While he was disoriented, she brought a club down on the hand with the weapon, causing him to scream as several fractures were made. She brought the other to one of his horns, fracturing it as well.

"Get the fuck out of here, squatter, and stay out! Or next time I'll cave your skull in!" Celees threatened and kicked him hard in his side then stomped on his fractured hand to force him to let go of the dagger, which she then snatched. He peeled himself on the floor and fled, and Celees slammed and locked the door behind him.

Once she was sure he wasn't going to come back, she put her clubs back into her strife deck and stormed upstairs to her bedroom. How long had that kid been staying here while she was gone, and why didn't her lusus immediately kick him out when he first showed up!?

"Mom!! Mom, are you up here!? Who the fuck was that??" she called out as she looked around the second floor. There was no sign of her lusus to be found up there, either. As she entered her bedroom, she saw that many of her valuables -- Her computer, her husktop, and several posters -- were gone. Even her phone charger was gone.

She started looking around in other rooms and floors of her hive, and to her ire anything that was even remotely of value was gone. Her hive was picked clean with only the barest necessities left behind. Celees let out a shout of frustration.

"Fucking hell! Mom didn't do anything to protect this place! All my shit's gone! When she gets back, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind!" she complained and sat downstairs on the couch awaiting her custodian's arrival.

Hours passed, and her lusus was still gone. She was tempted to go looking for her but feared leaving her hive again would cause the squatter to come back. So she continued to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait still until she could see faint rays of sunlight peeking through the slats of the window blinds. It was already close to sunrise, and still Centipedemom never made an appearance. What if she was killed in Celees's absence? That had to be what happened. Why else wouldn't she have come home by now??

In a panic, Celees ran out the door and frantically called for her lusus, but her cries were met with silence and the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. She searched the area around her hive desperately, but as the sun rose higher and her skin began to sting, she was forced to give up searching and return to her hive.

She needed to sleep. She could continue the search for her custodian once nightfall came. By now the sopor slime in her recuperacoon was long expired and in need of replacing, so she chose to sleep on the living room couch. Tomorrow she could buy a new phone charger, contact her friends, and recruit them to search for her lusus.

[trolloled]

=> You merely grunt at their attempt to say they were 'just' explaining. The only reason to explain would be to act as a barb. Obviously they have tons of time in field or otherwise to explain how ahead they are.

"╪hen I'/\/\ sure so/\/\e o╪her asshole is probably already ╪en perigees in on ge╪╪ing ahead of /\/\e co/\/\ing up wi╪h so/\/\e╪hing ╪o do abou╪ i╪ a╪ ╪his ra╪e."

"We kill shi╪ ╪ha╪ /\/\oves quick wi╪h in╪elligence all ╪he ╪i/\/\e. I ╪hough╪ ╪rolls were supposed ╪o be good a╪ ╪ha╪."

"Fur╪her, how do you preven╪ /\/\old? Really? Ge╪ a dehu/\/\idifier."

=> You theorize what happened was the guy was a shitty hivekeeper and let the fungus creep into the walls without noticing, then when they broke through, proceeded to do something outrageously stupid by using some of the stalks in a meal they were making.

=> Bing bang boom, total zombie conversion, or whatever. It would at least explain whatever that stain was on the rug. You grumble again.

"We'll fucking look in╪o i╪. ╪he grea╪ case of ╪he /\/\ushroo/\/\ killing one guy, whoopee."

"/\/\aybe I'll figure ou╪ so/\/\e way ╪o kill a walking /\/\ushroo/\/\ /\/\ore easily, if people are really s╪ruggling wi╪h ╪he concep╪ of poin╪ing and shoo╪ing."

=> 'Legion presents: Hivecare 101 - or: How to Stop Turning into Horror Movie Extras'. You'll sell hive movies to get people to protect themselves. Brilliant. Totally worth your time.

=> The type of fungus is unusual for the area, but that's not much to go on. A few spores could have landed here from anywhere. More petty mysteries to solve.

"Bu╪ like wi╪h every╪hing in life, i╪'s be╪╪er ╪o never ge╪ your hopes up. A╪ all."

"It was not meant as a barb." You say honestly. "Only an explanation."

Then you blink, slightly surprised.

"Some of them retain more intelligence and can move rather quickly. We were lucky that wasn't the case with that specimen. And I don't like that it infested what appears the whole hive at a rapid rate, with no one else understanding what was going on.

It's too unusual for this area, and there was no apparent cause I could detect, at least with our limited survey of the place. Further intel on how to prevent and rapidly eliminate such things would be useful."

You've paused, despite initially trying to walk away, so he can hear your explanation.

[trolloled]

"Yeah, yeah, everyone's go╪ a five billion sweep heads╪ar╪ on /\/\e."

"Wha╪ else is new? ╪here's no need ╪o re/\/\ind /\/\e."

=> 'Do more, with less' should be a sort of motivational challenge, but it doesn't feel very motivating right now.

"Wha╪'s ╪o learn by new ways of killing ╪he/\/\? ╪ha╪ ╪hing barely even /\/\oved. Jus╪ ge╪ an acid sprayer and douse ╪he/\/\ wi╪h i╪."

"If people s╪ruggle wi╪h ╪ha╪ basic concep╪, ╪here's no╪ /\/\uch I can ╪each or develop for ╪he/\/\."

=> Pessimism aside, maybe there's something you can try to come up with along with Garsad's help. A grenade that.... sprays anti-fungoid... stuff? No, it'd just make a mess, probably.

=> You shrug, watching them leave as you turn your eyes back to the hive. That thing still hasn't made any movements to actually leave. How wonderfully dull. The TV flickering was only mildly interesting - you're pretty sure it was just the idiot swatting at the remote in its hands the whole time. But what good is information like that?

=> You huff. You may as well have stayed in bed tonight.

"Passing through the gaps in the soil." You say. Well, that and a bit of spacial distortion tech to help it along.

"It won't last long." You state, because it won't. "A few hours, at most, even with the generator; it is a large energy drain. I did say it was temporary."

You can do a lot of things, but even you can't just spawn a forcefield of this size that stays up forever. That would be silly.

You blink, coming to a realization. Ah, he's frustrated. He wishes he could do what you do. Understandable, but you're no good at being comforting and he would hate that anyway.

"I am..." You debate how much you should say with yourself. "...I devote myself to this entirely. That is why. I am also...older than I look. I have had a great deal of time to accumulate resources and information."

Not exactly unbelievable, given you're passing as indigo. And entirely true anyway - even if you did spend a lot of that time locked up.

"Maybe not." You agree calmly. "But figuring out more ways to kill these pests is always helpful. They are quite a problem in some parts of Alternia; though I wasn't expecting to find one here, and I haven't seen this particular strain before. The TV aspect is also new to me."

You nod.

"I will depart, then."

You're sure he doesn't want you around any longer than he has to tolerate you, which is fair. You turn to go.