Pre-Game Alternia [Private, PM to Join]

(Role-play focusing on characters on Alternia before their game, or having ever heard of it.)

[Private, PM to join]

In the freezing South of Alternia, in the middle of the vast, vast oceans which made up the undersea realm of Alternia's ruthless aquatocracy, there was a field of icebergs. At the edge of the field, the smallest of these gargantuan blocks of ice floated about, and at the edge of these, sat the hive of Ozeath Cyroos. His iceberg was the smallest one in the whole area, and the most bearable, but you certainly wouldn't know it from looking upon it. The snow piled up all around, hiding the countless Waddlebeast dens, and the howling winds chilled any foreign creature's skin from their bones. The stars above shown like a thousand deep sea shinerfish stuck in a tar pit, illuminating the sky while the twin moons of Alternia lit the earth and reflected off the sea.

A beautiful night, Ozeath though, for some hunting!

The massive beast of a troll surveyed the icey-wonderland he called hive, standing atop a snowy hill below his steely fortress of a hive, he could see his sniping tower at the "Coast" of the burg, where the icy walls met the frosty seas. To get there, he'd need to snowboard all the way down the cliff side.  This was hardly an issue for someone as adventurous and cool as he was, he just grinned, fistbumped an onlooking waddlebeast, and removed a long, carved piece of driftwood from it's upright position in the snow. On it was his symbol, lovingly engraved by Penguindad.

"Watch this one, lil'man." He told the young, unblinking Waddlebeast, before jumping onto the board and kicking off down the hill at an acceleratingly high speed. He loved the feel of the chilly wind blowing across his furnace of a body, flowing through his hair and eyes. The burning sensation had become welcome in the many sweeps he's done this exact same action. It ended too soon, though, and he found himself just about touching the icy ocean. He shivered, a constant reminder that he was trapped here while his balloon was being repaired. Why could't  he be less DENSE and capable of swimming? Damn genetics.

Ozeath shook the thought off, pulling his hoodie over his head and horns before climbing up the snowy, slick ladder to his tiny little sniping tower. It was a tiny little thing made of steel, with a small opening facing the ocean so he could watch for any activity off the coast.  There was a single, fluffy chair in there, and a sleeping waddlebeast in the corner he decided not to disturb. He was glad when he saw that the heater he had installed into the wall hadn't broken down yet, and promptly turned it on, closing the hatch to the outside world behind him as he took out his crossbow, prepped it against the opening, and waited for game.

Little did he know, was that tonight's game was going to be something unique.

Elowen was not precisely a tropical seatroll, nor an arctic one: rather, the violet blood found herself living in changing climes, with a temperature that boarded on unbearable in both spectrums depending upon the time of year but tolerated it none-the-less. So it was, needless to say, not unsurprising that the royal had come so far North without realization until it was too late. The water had grown freezing at such a gentle crawl, and already she possessed great tolerance to cold, that by the time it started to sting and make her movements sluggish and realization dawned upon her she was too far from home to turn around.

Fuck. Okay, so maybe she had intended to swim the damn day away, (and though she was in the depths of the sea, unable to see nor feel the sun, she knew it was day), but apparently forgot to make the mental note to turn the fuck around at some point. After a great deal of time had passed, she went about slowly making her ascension, hoping more light would help her identify her present location when the water began to feel like needles pricking her scaly skin and her stride started to become sluggish and her body felt like dead weight in a vast sea. It wasn't until her dilated eyes finally caught sight of the twin moons, their glow a blur through the stormy surface, making her wince in pain and epiphany: she had literally swam the damn day away and now she was too far fucking North to just turn the fuck around. She was exhausted and freezing and fuck, she could use some warming up before heading all the way back.

Elowen couldn't even recall why the fuck she swam out here. So maybe her anxiety sometimes gave her insomnia, and maybe she didn't feel like making music at that moment, and maybe she was feeling not quite right but had no name for it and maybe she was kinda restless, but damn, she didn't think she had this much in her.

Note to self. Pay the fuck more attention.

(Being tired and cold made her grouchier than usual in her mental commentary.)

The seadweller was almost to the point where she was gonna give up for the night, just swim down to find some coral reef and maybe rest for a few days to get her strength back in this freezing clime when her slitted eyes caught the reflection of an ice berg. The things base ran deep, deep into the water, so deep and so dark she had just presumed it to be far away ocean: now, getting closer, Elowen realized it was one giant structure with some smaller ones near by. Well, it would do for now: she'd just have to remember to dive back into the sea before the sun rose, unless she could find a suitable shelter on the hunk of solid water.

Her mermaid style of swimming (full body, arms by her sides and legs powerhouses behind her as she flexed) came to a slowdown, working her way up to bob the surface of the water but not peeking just yet: she'd peek closer to shore, not wanting to go from gills to lungs and repeat the process. No, for now she'd be a shadow moving just beneath the surface of the deep blue salt water, an occasional flick of a foot splashing the surface as she drew near.

Ozeath had almost nodded off several times while he waited for prey to appear. Luckily, one of his waddlebeasts was always there with a nice cup of coffee and a soft song. His eyes never left the ocean, however. When he made a commitment he stuck by it, and right now his crossbow yearned to taste hunted blood.

That was when he saw it, bobbing in the water. Up, and down. Up, and down.

He grinned a sharp grin, a grin filled with even sharper teeth. He aimed his crossbow, checking the rope attached to the bolt, making sure it was tight and secure. He would need it to be, if he was to pull his catch in. He waited a few seconds, accounting for wind speed and drop, holding his breath as well, it helped with managing his slowly decreasing pulse.
The bolt of cold iron sung through the cold night air, humming a tune foreshadowing pain as it struck his mark.

Ozeath picked up his telescope and looked to examine his catch. Was it a giant snapbeast? Maybe the fabled black one-horned whale?

"Oh fuck!" He shouted when he saw what he had really shot, a seadweller of pure violet blood! He quickly jumped to his nearly-asleep feet, tugging at the  rope to reel his unfortunate victim in, repeating the same word over and over again.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKF-"

Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Gog, fuck fuck fuck, that hurt like a bitch!

A sharp, stabbing pain went through the back of her lower leg when it was pierced, and suddenly Elowen was grateful for the cold water she was immersed in: it took the heat from the wound, but the salt made it sting something fierce, and, oh fuck, she had a metal tipped arrow in her leg. She released a keening noise when the pain registered, thankfully her head underwater still so nobody could hear her embarrassing lapse. The water her gills were filtrating was starting to tint violet, however, and that could be a problem. Also the fact that swimming lower was going to hurt, but clearly she needed cover --

Just as Elowen was reining herself in, preparing herself for a deep sea swim with an injured leg, she was suddenly pulled. By the injury. By the arrow. Oh fuck if it hurt before, it was certainly tearing her up now, and she thrashed to try and take the stupid thing out, come out you piece of shit but she had no strength, having to grind her shark teeth harshly in her mouth to keep from releasing any other unpleasant sounds. Her head poked above the water, taking a forceful gulp of air, going through the process of changing airways when she finally caught sight of her assailant -- or, at least, his tower.

When she was close enough to shore, the violet blood hauled herself onto the ice with shaking arms, spluttering and groaning and fuck fuck fuck, she didn't know if gravity made it better or worse, laying on her stomach, breathing deeply, glancing back at the bleeding wound. The tug had certainly jostled the weapon around inside her, causing further inner fuck ups, she was sure. Despite the fact that it was technically stopping her from bleeding out, she still brought a limp arm up to grasp the damn thing and pull, shrieking as the arrow head came out (fucking side points) but at least she wasn't still tethered: no more pulling escapades.

It was then she finally heard the "fucks".

Fuck herself, she should dive back into the water and get herself out of there, but she had no strength and had to settle for glaring menacingly, dripping wet, freezing, bleeding, on her side, leg held awkward to accommodate the throbbing sensation.

Asswipe.

Ozeath was in a cold sweat with every second of pulling, oh he was /so culled/. He had to get her on shore, and fast! Luckily, he was a beefcake, and quickly pulled her in...well, quickly for him, he wasn't so sure how it felt for his poor fishy victim. When they were finally on shore(it was a miric-..fortunate event that no black munchers had smelled her[at least it looked like a she]precious, pure blood and come up for a meal), he jumped from his tower, clumsily running over towards her bleeding body. He slid to a stop next to her, a look of sheer terror on his face as he saw her bleeding wound. He didn't even notice the waves nipping at his legs as he called over a pair of waddlebeasts in medic helmets. He looked back down at her, holding his hands above her form as if he wanted to carry her to safety, but was too scared to try.
"Are you okay?!" He asked in fervent fear, accidently yelling at the smaller, painfully thin looking troll. He was so scared, and prayed to any deities he was allowed to worship that this noble seadweller would live.

And on that train of thought, him too.

Great, she had been hit by accident. That just made this situation all the more lovely.

Elowen increased her glare, intending to snap his damn head off, some of those shark teeth exposed in a leer. Asshole, moronic -- she thought a stream of curses bitterly before trying to ignore the gigantic idiot for the time being to bring herself into a sitting position. It was a semi-difficult task, but with only two grunts she managed it, her injury free leg bent against the ice as she held the bleeding one against it, using the solid ground beneath her as an ice pack. As a perk of being cold-blooded, she didn't bleed out that fast, the cold clime having already made her body lethargic, but she eventually calculated that the snow slowly staining violet beneath her likely scared the huge idiot anyway.

Speaking of which, who the fuck lived on a block of ice?

This place was cold as fuck, though being dripping wet likely didn't help her case at all, bangs sticking to her face and clothes to her skin -- which was alright. When Elowen went for "power swims" she wore a typical "surfer" type body suit, that branched to her knees and elbows, soft purple stripes down it's black sides. It helped not bring her speed down and really accented her lithe frame, which, right now, was anything but helpful against the weather. Okay, maybe she was shivering, just a little -- but only a little!

"What do you fucking think." The violet blood eventually snapped out at him, holding her leg to try and clot the wound, which was just below where the suit ended: small "miracles". If her clothing had entered her skin via the arrow that could have been bad -- er, even worse. As it was for now, she was just an angry seadweller that'd take a while to heal if there wasn't any heat on this damn place, but he lived here, there had to be someplace -- though spending any more time with the moron who shot her seemed low on her to do list.

Eventually, when she felt like she could manage it, Elowen tried to pushed herself up into a standing position, though couldn't put any pressure on her shiny new wound without a sharp pain going up the limb. Fucking fantastic, she thought heatedly, leveling the glare to focus on the giant troll again. Perhaps the situation of such a short (well, in this circumstance at least) seadweller glaring up at a huge blueblood could almost be seen as comedic, had the circumstances been different.

She was awkwardly leaning to the left to accommodate her injured side, foot just ghosting the ground to not make herself appear completely weak.

"Did you at least bring something to wrap it with?" She inquired of him, voice like ice, intending to wrap it without properly addressing the thing and jumping back in the water: the salt would do it good, and her journey was likely to take twice as long now. She could find an underwater cave where no idiot was likely to shoot her and then reel her in with a stupid fucking arrow.

He took all her abuse in stride, thinking it was more than justified by the circumstances. He took note of her attire, as well as where the bolt had entered her. Luckily, it was in a non-vital area and could be taken care of easily. When the tiny white waddlebeasts finally made it over, they squawked at him. The scene surely could be seen comedically, a giant of a troll moving a good deal to the side so that two land-bound birds, barely a foot tall, could inspect the leg of a seadweller. But it was anything but comedic to them. The birds squawked amongst each other, inspecting her wound with their eyes and flippers. Ozeath just stared down at the ground, too ashamed to meet her glare.

After a moment or so of intense debate, they nodded, and turned to Ozeath.

"Caw, caw caw. C/-\W." The larger of the two waddlebeasts(only by a few inches.) ordered Ozeath, urgency showing even through his(?) animalistic caws.

"Oh! Alright!" He said, a splatter of hope washing across his face as he walked over to the seadweller ,"Excuse me, madam, firstly, I, uh, would like to apologize for my attack upon your person, and with your permission, I can have your wounds mended." He offered, not daring to do anything else that might offend his genetic superior.

The night winds were calming down, the weather seemingly becoming docile the moment he had fired his shot. At least getting her to his hive wouldn't be an issue.

Idiot didn't even answer her question.

Grey eyes glared heatedly down at the waddlebeasts, ready to gut one with her claws if they so much as touched her. They weren't lusus, therefore she disregarded their intelligence and pondered the sanity of her present...host. Then again, this type of isolation was likely to make many a troll insane. You'd have to be insane to mistake her for a fish, after all. (She wasn't going to acknowledge any resemblance, not even with her earfins splayed wide and gills on her side. Her horns were clearly different than any aquaticbeast.)

When this stranger communed with the waddlebeasts, Elowen's exasperation was evident by the dry look on her face. A day full of swimming had depleted her of what patience she possessed for idiocy, it seemed, though maybe that was just the pain throbbing through her leg. Both were likely candidates at this moment in time, but she conceded to listen to what he had to say out of necessity. While she would like to simply address the wound and leave, if it were to get an infection she'd need a heat source to raise her body temperature to act as a pseudo-fever and fight it off. Once again, the seadweller reflect that if he lived here, there must be a hive with some degree of heat.

"...Alright." She said after a pause, the debate heavy in her thinkpan previous, but more points sprouting their ugly little skulls and she felt forced to comply. Her body was drained and bleeding and this was her best bet, for now. She'd sneak out later when she could, Elowen thought to herself, when the risk of infection had passed, and looked to the side to see if any hive was in sight -- and saw. Well. At least it looked warm. And at least this troll seemed to know his place, even if he did shoot her.

The walk over there wasn't going to be fun, though, but what was she if not stubborn and prideful.

"Lead the way, blueblood." She said with narrowed eyes. (They hadn't un-narrowed the entire conversation.)

He nodded at her, smiling with relief that she had accepted his offer. The last thing he needed was a dead seadweller. He whistled at the waddlebeasts, and they took off on their bellies towards the steel tower. "They're going to prepare the infirmary while we badoozle on crib."He explained with a look casted back towards the sea, the Nibblers might've smelt her, and they're only semi-aquatic...

He turned around to look at her, and realized that her LEG had been shot."Uh..."He was about to ask her if he could carry her the way there. But something about the way she was glaring at him(so uncool)told him that she was perfectly capable of making the journey...

But still, he wanted to carry her there. It felt right to help a wounded troll,"Stick close by me while we're walking up here, there could be some longfurred clawbeasts about."He mumbled, taking off his hoodie and handing it to her,"Here, you might need this."Under that hoodie was a kicking leather jacket, and under that one seemed to be his T-shirt. His pants were laid in a similar fashion, with his SICK JEANS above his three layers of totally-not-snow-themed pajama pants covering his boxers.

No One will ever know this, though. This information is irrelevant.

He removed his large, steel crossbow from his strife deck, reloading the fairly simple item with a new bolt. The only embellishment on the weapon was his symbol engraved on the stock. He looked to be done by a professional, though, odd considering he was alone on the iceberg. Ozeath realized quickly that this action could be seen as threatening, and quickly made his intention clear,"I merely wish to be high-tide and boss for any possible confrontations, my lady." He explained, tense, as if her words were like the crack of a whip.

And to the hemoloyal blueblood, they very much were.

Badoozle on crib?

Elowen lacked a lot of experience with lowbloods outside of cold stand offs and exchanging favors, but even then she was almost certain that wasn't normal slang -- and this troll was of higherblood. She knew her highblood etiquette. Each caste clung to its own culture, but together they were all a part of the same society, and Highbloods were not meant to speak like that. However, he was blue, and blues were known to be...eccentric.

And here she thought she'd have to be worried about purples this entire time.

She watched the waddlebeasts go on ahead and gave up questioning his sanity. It was all but confirmed for her at this point, but he at least appeared to possess some degree of intelligence. At this time it was his saving grace, because injured or not she had been close to killing him earlier. Or, at least, the intense feeling of it. As quickly as the feeling had come it had passed, though, drained away like her energy and her patience. Now she was following an insane blueblood who spoke to waddlebeasts and shot her.

Fucking fantastic.

She eyed the sweatshirt at his words, too tired to leer or make a witty retort, instead reaching out stoically and taking the offensive material. Her suit was soaking, dripping salt water down her legs (and stinging her wound,) but it was too cold for her to think about for long. Sure, putting on may just get it wet and may make her feel cold after an extended period, but at least she'd be covered in some manner. Just standing here like this was starting to make her feel exposed, anyway: she felt she looked too masculine without the proper attire. She was not Landan right now. She was Elowen.

With gritting teeth, the hoodie was brought over her head and only by the grace of perfect balance was she able to put it on and remain upright, balancing on one leg. The presiding body heat radiating from it made her feel a little better, crossing her arms over her chest, slowly soaking the material but sucking up the warmth as she did so. The thing went down to her mid-thighs and hung limply on her small, wiry frame, making her appear dwarfed -- the sleeves had to be rolled for her hands to be exposed. Elowen wanted to keep the use of those, just in case, as he mentioned foreign beasts and injured or not she had a statement to make of I'm not useless yet.

The loading of the weapon did bring out a growl, however, wary eyes knowing first hand what that device could do. It made sense he loaded it for these beasts (whom she was questioning the existence of) but that didn't make her relax any more. (But then again, who could relax when you essentially had a hole in your leg that hurt like shark and you'd had a long fucking night and day? Nobody, that's fucking who.) Her patience was dwindling rapidly again by this point.

"So let's get going," she stated, teeth clenched tightly as she took her first step and seethed when pressure was applied, muscles clenching around the tear, but she managed, limping something fierce. Managing was all she had left to do, anyway, and they could take their damn time if she fucking said so.

The large blueblood nodded with her, "Yes ma'am." following her and watching her wounded foot in case he had to carry her. The last thing he wanted was her to rip into an artery or something and bleed out. If it got to the point where he feared that would be the case, he promised himself that he would demand to carry her. No matter how scratched up he'd get. It was his duty as a Blueblood.

Ozeath was glad that she had taken the comically oversized jacket(it looked adorable on her), if his estimates were correct she'd need that extra warmth. He felt the winter chill bite him with renewed vigor now that he was lacking his totally sickizzle hoodie's protection, but this made him all the more glad he had given it to her, she would need it far more than he would.  Especially since when he looked around, he saw that the previous pacification of the weather was only the calm before the, literal in this case, storm. The wind was picking up and the temperature was going down even more.

"We're going to have to hurry..."He advised, wary of what would happen to them both if they got caught in the midst of a hail storm. At the very least this meant they wouldn't be ambushed by predators or anything, which was always off the hizzle. He was knocked to the side by  a stray block of snow hitting him in the noggin, "F-fuck...uh, Ma'am? Be careful, there is a storm coming." He said, his face contorting into a frown of frustration. Why did this have to happen tonight of all nights? He sighed, it didn't matter, all that mattered was getting the highblood to safety. He kept this thought close to his pumpbiscuit when walking closer to her so he could shield her from any snow or hail blocks that decide to fuck her shit up. He just hoped she didn't claw his throat out for doing so.

Waddlebeasts began to walk past them, towards a huge mound of snow and ice. They were chirping wildly, some sliding towards it on their bellies while others were carrying their young ones with them.  One of them, a young waddlebeast just old enough to waddle about, bumped into the seadweller's leg.

He looked at the hunk of snow and ice, what he affectionately called "The Crib". It was the major nesting place of the waddlebeasts and the second safest place on the iceberg(the first being his own Hive.). If the weather got too bad before they made it home, they could always spend some time in the twenty foot long and eleven foot high mound until the storm passed. Hopefully, it wouldn't come with that. From the way you saw her glaring at your little homies she'd probably rip their adorable little hearts out. This made you growl, and make your face contort in anger just from the thought. If she pulled some uncool frozen shit like that...you'd probably have to take her out...

He tried not to think about this and looked up at his ever-closer hive, still trying to stifle his growl.

He could see the lights of his hive began to turn on, likely Penguindad preparing for his return, he was also probably preparing for his highblooded guest the parapenguins likely informed him of....he just hoped they didn't tell him /how/ she got injured...or else he'd be beaten...

Horribly.

Perhaps the sweatshirt had not been such a great idea, after all.

As the winds began to pick up and the material slowly became drenched, her cold factor escalated again. However, the sleeves and bits that floated from her body rather than actually cling made it bearable, a small comfort against these horrible conditions. If she was a little more coherent, she might have thought about ripping the long sleeve that hung loose from her arms and using it as a makeshift wrap for her le, but alas the thought did not occur to her. Instead, she was too busy holding a bent arm up to defend her face against the freezing, snowy wind. On reflex she shrunk her neck and hunched her shoulders to try and defend her sensors against the freezing bullets, hiding herself in the hoodie.

Hurry he says, there's a storm he advises. Like she couldn't fucking deduce that herself. The only up side to the building blizzard was that the cold air acted as a compress to her wound, the bleeding slow and thick thanks to her body temperature lowering her blood pressure -- but it also made her lethargic and slower to move, and fuck, there was no way she could hurry, not with that tug at her leg every time she walked that rattled her very core. It was a bad pain, but presently a bearable one, likely to change when the shock and adrenaline and cold wore off.

Elowen hoped she'd be unconscious by that point, sleeping the damn night away only to wake up with it as a dull throb rather than the searing sensation she knew it'd likely be. (Since when was she ever so lucky, anyway.)

They were getting closer now, her limp making her breath deep and awkward, forcing a shaky control over her lungs, trying not to escalate the situation. As much as she despised pity and encouragement, she was making little points in her head to keep her going strong -- so close, almost there, see you're passing those stupid little beasts mound, that must mean you're close, just a little further and you can pass the fuck out for nights, and so forth. She tried to keep walking with only the tips of her toes on her right foot, not wanting to apply that great of pressure so her limp managed itself into a sort of hobble, retaining a little grace, likely due to her cold (no pun intended) demeanour. It was hard to appear completely undignified when you were as elegant and mean looking as Elowen Mirren.

All of this was shattered when the waddlebeast bumped into her, however. Elowen's head was thrown back as she gasped sharply through clenched teeth, her right arm going back to clasp at the leg, slowly falling to her knees for a moment as she clutched, trying to get herself back in some semblance of control. If not for the pain distracting her, she would have swiped at that stupid thing, but now she couldn't find the energy to be murderous or affronted, only stubborn. The sweater sleeve was likely to be stained with violet blood now, when she would give it back.

Instead a side glare to it would have to suffice before she closed her eyes, letting the pain throb out until she could stand again -- only to hear her blueblood escort growling? fevered eyes, narrowed and slitted, glanced over to the hulking giant and saw that he appeared in a conflicted state. Yes. That's precisely what she needed to deal with right now. A stupid waddlebeast and an unstable blueblood who has a weapon, why the fuck didn't she bring her chain with her. As this night wore on she was becoming less and less convinced he was the best choice, honestly weighing her options in the snowy landscape: perhaps she could find a current to warm her up, there had to be at least one geyser in the area...

But the sea was so far behind now, and she had no weapons on her unless she were to reach out to throw a waddlebeast and somehow that just didn't seem likely.

Fuck.

She let her head hang as she clutched her leg, what short hair she had masking her face, working out what she knew she could control rather than what she couldn't.

The snow gathered around her.