The age of Strife (A homestuck Ancestors game IC)

Distra was still somewhat stunned by her matesprit's sudden betrayal and she swallowed back the screams she wanted to let out in anger at her matesprit and the purple blood in front of her. She inhaled deeply and her jade green eyes focused themselves on the enemy in front of her. Maybe if her matesprit is still alive at the end of all this, she might be able to interrogate the scum she had fallen into a red quadrant with.
"It-i$-the-fact-that-we-are-all-$eparated-by-blood-caste,-that-many-of-u$-choo$e-to-follow-the-$ignle$$. Whether-it-i$-out-of-curio$ity, hi$-word$-alway$-make-$en$e, and-for-your-information-I-will-not-let-you-harm-the-$ignle$$-for-I-will-protect-him-until-my-la$t-breath," she said as she dodged the purple blood's attacks, occasionally tossing in a kick when she could.

(the purple blood already started swinging)

Denard watched as the relatively friendly situation deteriorated from tense to chaotic. The Jade blood had been the first to draw, maybe her faith gave her speed? He grinned to himself at the ridiculous thought. Whatever these followers were getting from this Mutant Prophet must have been mighty addictive. Either way, he doubted he would be getting out of this situation through diplomacy, there were enough bastard Clown Bloods here to fill several mad houses.

He watched as a figure broke away from the chaos surrounding him, coming into Denard's focus as he charged towards the Maroon Blood. His movements were random and animalistic yet held something powerful about them. Denard frowned, raising his hand and watching as the blade along his back flew from it's sheath. It's handle striking the attacker in the chest, stunning him long enough for Denard to grab the blade and dash towards the poor sod, "Come o'n', you fuck!" No need to wait for the fight to be fair, honour wasn't going to get him out of this situation. He swung his blade towards the attacker.

The Danseuse stares as her empress carries the ellipsis away with the strength common to higher bloods.. While she carries him away you summon the sanitation experts to take care of the mustard blood that happened to get on the walls and floor. Then you decide to go and check out a lead you have on the whereabouts of the grand high blood.

As you fly towards the mining town in an imperial transport ship you see a battle taking place but pay no mind to it. Then assuming that the cause of this fight is the Signless you say. "[color:aa4a=33cc33] dAmn Signless And His dAmned followeRs." after a few more minutes you land in the small mining town and have your three swords at the ready incase you need to kil.

((I've been meaning to come back to this, but school and yadda yadda I'm using excuses for my own stupidity.))

The Ellipsis did his best to muster a sigh as he was lifted by the Cendency, who was truly a great specimen of trollkind. By that, you mean she's a great physical specimen, as a person, she is a complete and total bitch. Therefore, you throw a vile glare to her as you manage to only stifle a weak cough, which indeed, does splatter a bit of blood on her. Maybe you were injured more than you thought.

You gaze back on the scene momentarily as you are carried away. Even for a troll of your height, that is a lot of blood. Like someone had the bright idea to have a grubsauce fight but only brought your color.

You promptly pass out because you're a goddamn hypochondriac and need to git gud at not assuming there's always something wrong with you.

Cendency strode through the marble halls of her palace at a break neck pace, her flowing cloths now serving as a hinderance as it caught wind and seemed to slow her movements. She pushed hard, her powerful steps crackle to marble lightly as she pushed to bring her black love to the Doctorturers. She was angry, and scared at the same time. angered by the stupidity of the Ellipsis with his stupid idea to point the barrel of his gun inwards to his body. She was fearful though at the thought of losing him, his presence in her thrown, the chance to watch him wreath under her, and even the thing that annoyed her so much about the yellow blooded troll.

Her emotions were getting the best of her, and her psionics began to electrify the air and cause items along her path to either crack from pressure of float where they were. It made the guards that tried to keep up with her try a little less, fearful her rage would destroy them.

She would make it in time, and the Ellipsis would be laid down in the hospital to recover and be treated on as Her Cendency went off to handle a meeting with the council of High bloods. They once more wished to pester her about her descision on how to handle the signless situation.

"Signless....that loud guppy always floundering around with his sermons. He's lucky I'm in charge, else he'd have been culled by now." She said, pushing her way through the doors that lead to the inner chamber. The council of high bloods were trolls of high blood status that held barony over sections of Alternia, acting as the Empress's voice and hand in each region they called their own. She knew they all conspired against her, they always tried to help the newest Heiress ascend the throne so they could get a Empress that cared a little more.

The Cendency didn't care though. Her physical power crushed any threat to her reign, and her Psionics was nothing to scoff at either. The day they found an Heiress who could Stand against her, would be the day squeel mongrals flew across the sky.

~x~

The purple blooded troll seemed to take the kicks like the were nothing, his ribs like iron as his swings cut through air with enough force to cause gusts of wind to accompany them. "BUT THAT'S HOW IT'S MEANT TO BE MY DEAR MUTHFUCKING BLASPHEMER OF A SISTER! THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS MADE US THIS WAY, WITH THE STRONG HIGHBLOODS RULLING OCER YOU SHIT BLOODS, YOU BENDING OVER AND THANKING ME AS I LAINT MY WALLS WITH YOUR BLOOD IN A MUTHAFUCKING RAINBOW OF DELIGHT AND MIRACULOUS JOY!" he screamed at Distra, his rage filled clarity still strong, showing just how much he believed these words to be true, as if he had watched the messiah's wrote them himself.

~x~

The high blood dodged Denard's attacks, a calm look upon The trolls face. No wait, not a face, but a mask. A mask with a cruel and twisted clown's features that seemed to stare into the soul of Denard. Two books were quickly pulled from what seemed like no where, and were presented to Denard as the Troll took a defensive stance, the animalistic behavior seeming to clear momentarily as it seemed the high blood recognized Denard's threat.

Suddenly, the hooks began to swing and the fight began, with the High blood swinging the siege hooks around rapidly and attack from multiple directions.

~x~

The HIghbloods were for sure busy tormenting their victems, but it didn't take them long to turn and look to Sovriegn as he approached. One of them looked from him, to his friend, to Sovriegn again, before saying " Who the heck's this guy?"

Are there such things as tales as old as time? A controversial question that remains unanswered. Some say that tales were created because of time passing, while others argue that nothing can survive for that long. And yet, we can find artifacts from years we can only hope are labelled correctly.

So to begin a story with a tale as old as time may be the wrong way of going at it. Perhaps we should start here with a chance encountering? Yes, that fits better.

A chance encountering is exactly what made her, Svanto, interested in the Signless. An idle conversation turned in direction of his name, and she was already itching to learn more. To know, of the one who could move a highbloods stoic heart, who could render hope from the jaws of tyranny and proudly say this is what I've done. Listen, and follow.

Yet what motivated her to brave the vendor's crowded streets was his bravery. Surely someone as courageous as he was a figure of importance. Perhaps he was a legend, and whole novels had been written about him!

The thought of new knowledge was an addicting one to her, enticing her to discover more. Adjusting the strap around her shoulder to pull her bag snug to her frame, Svanto waved a goodbye to the vendor she'd been speaking with about the Signless, leaving the poor troll unaware of the missing sticky notes. Nothing of value, nor anything written on then, she was just low on paper at the moment.

She made a cautious trail down to where the vendor spoke passionately about the Signless holding a sermon. Funny word, that. It sounds like 'summon', yet it means a lecture, in the informal sense. So, her thought process might have been a bit off-track, but that didn't mean it wasn't relative. Rather the opposite. As Svanto's mind pondered over whom the Signless might be, her feet subconsciously guided her to the gathering of trolls.

Svanto clung to the edges, keeping within her personal bubble in hopes that no attention was drawn to her. Her scarves hung loose around her neck, and she used one as a hood, an action that required little thought. Her eyes were searching headlights, roaming over the sea of grey faces that were all around, hoping to find out something more, something new.

Yet our young child here was far too late, her information old as dust. Or a couple hours. It seems like there was nothing more than bloodshed and wasted time in this location. Frustrated with herself, and the vendor she ripped off for lying, her last course of action here would be to detail the events and add it to her collection later.

It’s a good thing she has her paper and pen here. After all, she can’t write in her own blood.

Moments that may have been minutes pass, when the voice of another startles her out of her daze. Svanto wastes no time in covering her work, hunching forward to hide it from view. Hopefully she doesn't smear the ink before it dries.

"Nothing," she lies, suspicious of the other's curiosity. Noting the finished chapter, she closes the book and places it in her bag, standing up to face the newcomer. Rather, to sort of face. Her hood and bowed head obscure her features, lest the lighting be right.

"I wasn't aware. . .it was against the rules. . ." Her speech is slow and carefully chosen, like the words are lead bullets she must swallow. She fears what their next answer may possibly be. Silver words, or a silver weapon?

The Sovriegn scratches at his head at the answer he had received.

"By any chance did you come here to talk vith ve volk trolls call ve singless?"

"By a chance encounter, yes. I heard of his drivel dreams, and wanted to see the. . .merit, myself. Do you seek council with the. . . 'Signless'?"

"I only came to see vhat vis "Signless" vanks vor correcting me, is like.
but iv you'd vant to see him ven vhy not go speak to him"?

"Oh. . .no, I couldn't. Not now, so soon? I just learned of him. . .and besides, why would he even speak to me? No, I'm best off, just writing it down, and from a respectable distance."

"So are you a historian ov some sort? Or is vis just a hobbies you like to do."

"Currently. . .a hobby. Although a historian sounds, like a fine job . . . Sorry for my, rudeness, but why do you ask? What are you so curious about?"

"Oh, I consider myselv in a sense a historian as vell. Vell at least in ve aspect ov a storyteller. But going back to a prior point, vhat makes you vink vat ve signless vouldn't speak to you?"

"He's a busy troll, I'm a stranger, and one who couldn't even find him. I might try again another time. . . What stories do you tell?"

The Sovreign crouched down as he folded his legs to get comfy for the long run.

"Vell, vhen you've lived vor more ven a couple ov millennium you tend to knov a vev events. Vor example I vas around vhen ve latest heiress vas born and ven I vas vere vor her coronation."

"The Heiress? A long time indeed. . .you are of high blood, then? To have seen such an event?"

"You could say vat, but in truv ve event it selv vas a snore-vest viv all ve bureaucrat and lords talking like vey vere ve point of ve vancy poking stick.
I vas only vere because my position as grand Sovreign called me to be."

She laughs at the joke, a small noise in the back of her throat. Quiet enough that it wouldn't be considered rude, or worse. Debating, she opts to a comfortable four feet away from him, knees tucked under her as she fixes her scarf.

"That sounds like an important role, then. Minus the bureaucracy, do you enjoy it. . .being the Sovreign?"

"Vell, I did enjoy it at one point but it lost its buzz avter I vas vorced into a prison cell. only got out recently to tell you ve truv. Did so to see vis signless vellow myselv."

She makes a small face of pity.

"A prison cell sounds. . .awful! The Signless, they mean a lot to you, no?"

"Meh, I just got ved up and heard about some troll making a ruckus. Vought it vould be vun to vatch."
In her opinion, a death battle doesn't sound too fun.
But he is a highblood.

"Was it worth?"

"Quite disappointing actually.To tell ve truv, I believe trolls haven't evolved as a species. To me it looks like vey have been degrading ve gene pool to much vith vis cast system vey set up. Viv no balance in bravn and mind, ve get ultra violent pipsqueaks vat vink vey're ve next vermal capsule to blov. Vor example I came across about six highblood grubs. Ve virst vas pretty rotten, ve second vas stone cold vrozen vhen I vent by him, ven vis sly little bastard vought he could try to use or abuse me viv ve intention to kill. All ve rest vere shortly avter put down upon virst contact. Vey all vought vat vey could kill me and maybe a vev ov vem had ve right vought but sadly trolls have levt a pav ov true glory."

"A lack of balance isn't good for anything. . .a shame that trolls as a race have, fallen so far. Maybe those of your caliber will help restore it. . .to grace."

"Sadly I have only met one troll vat has had ve same opinion as me but shes tied up in bureaucracy and is afraid of my strengv."

*.h.*:

*Sovreign*:

This is risky business, talking about highers in such a manner. But on the other hand, if the highblood is already speaking about it. . .

"A shame, that she is occupied by other matters. . .as is her fear. There may be other allies, lying in places you've not yet seen. You recently escaped, yes? Perhaps you have a chance, to make a bond with those who share your. . .ideals."

"overs?"

"Yes, others. You seek the Signless, for smaller reasons known to you. What if there are larger ones. . .that you yourself don't know?"

"..."

Moments, then minutes of uncomfortable silence. Well then. She isn't going to press her point, and anyone with a pair of eyes and a dash of common sense could see that her time speaking about this topic was up. She chuckles quietly, mostly to herself (and out of nerves) as she places her book within her bag, tightening the strap.

". . ."

What's there to say with a parting like this?

"I see. Good day then. . .and, sorry."

Good exit words, that mark her retreat. It isn't swift, nor is it slow, but it has a hint of embarrassment, and perhaps fear?

Indeed she was taking a path back towards civilization with haste as if her life depended on it. And who knows, it probably did. It most certainly could. With no interruptions of protests, the Keeper forms a new -if a bit lacking- plan for when she returns.

Hopefully she would return.

The battle for the Signless continued before the Sovreign's eyes, the clash of steel and the sound of burning psionic energy fill the air. The Psionic had to vere off from the group, taking his powerful laser artillery to engage the closing Psionic attacker to try and hold her off.

From the Looks of it, the High Blood attackers were gaining the upper hand, and the Sighnless's team seemed to begin to falter, when suddenly the indistinguishable voice of the Signless roared out over the cries, as if the gods themselves wished to hear what this Low blood had to say.

"Brothers, Sisters, Do not falter in the shadow of hatred and ignorance. These Trolls of cold blood, they are merely like you and I, mortals trapped in this endless cycle of suppression and corruption. They know not the power we hold, and know not the power they lack. Their masters send them to die in their stead, when they could instead fight for themselves! If you must slay them, do so and let their suppression end! But do not forget why we fight, why we are united, why we are strong! Everyday we grow, and everyday those who would see us fall grow ever more in our shadow. Fight for the suppressed, fight for the downtrodden, fight for yourselves, fight for your quadrantmates, fight for your friends, and above all else, FIGHT FOR A BETTER FUTURE!"

The Signless's sermon rang out through the wasteland around them, echoing off whatever surface it hit to spread for mile. And with the booming sound of his voice, the followers began to push back, and once more regain their standing in the face of the highbloods when all hope would be lost. However, those who watched could tell something was wrong. While many and brave, the Low bloods that faught were not as strong or vicious as the highbloods. Without aide, the battle may end with the Signless's fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the Keeper tried to Journey back to the town, with her plan in mind, the Voice of the Signless rang out around her and his sermon met her ears.

She could continue on, and abandon this man who would speak with such power behind his words. She could walk back to civilization, to safety, and view the world through the page sof books written by the victors of conflicts beyond her perception. Or she could turn, and lend her aide to the Signless however she could. It was Her choice, and a choice that could have drastic effect. Or none at all, as was always the case with time and causality.

The Deserter quickly back stepped away from his opponent's initial swinging of his hooks, the speed of the Purple blood was impressive. As was the random patterns from which he drew his technique, he didn't know the details of the Purple bloods religion nor if the creepy fuckin' mask this one was wearing associated him with someone in particular but whatever force was driving the clown's attacks was a goddamn cruel one. Denard kept on the retreat, dodging and blocking with his blade his aggressor's barrage, waiting for an opening that never seemed to come. If things continued the way they were the High bloods stamina would surely out last his own. Many strategies crossed his mind among the sound of his own grunts and clashes of metal, some of which involved turning tail and escaping the battle. But then he heard The Signless' Battle speech, cheesy enough to make Denard roll his eyes but dammit... the guy really was passionate. It was admirable, even to a troll like Denard and from that moment he knew he couldn't just run this time. This fight was actually... important.

"Ah shit" He cursed himself out under his breath during a break in the high blood's attack, still reeling over his reasoning for risking what little sweeps he had left for a hopeless cause with a charismatic leader. Welp, here goes nothing. He sticks his none occupied hand to the side, his telekinesis picking up any debris or rubble or fallen comrade's weapons close to his own fight and directing them towards the purple blood. While not powerful enough to pick up anything large enough to crush his opponent out right, the focus of The Deserter's telekinesis would at least allow for any pointed weapons caught in the motion to be pointed in the right direction by the time they reached their target. As a wave passes from behind Denard and flies toward the Purple blood, he uses the opportunity to deliver an attack, dashing forward behind the barrage and thrusting his weapon towards the clown.

The Sovreign scratches at his head only causing him to get more frustrated with himself as those words repeated through his head even after the troll was long gone. This wasn't like him to concentration on a single point but that young grub seems to have pierced his brain figuratively.
What the trolls don't make up for in strength in this generation they sure do make up for in cunning and logical thought. That may also explain why they all look like this was their first battle after the trials... If they still do that ritual.




"Vhat iv vere are larger ones...vat i myself don't knov?"
"..."
"GAAAAAAH!"
"I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

The Sovreign's frustration started to turn into rage and annoyance as he started to trod down into the battlefield with his emotions sheathing physically for all those to see.

"Ve only vay vis can be settled is by talking to ve grub itselv."

Now that the Sovreign had entered into the fight the lesser trolls present started to form into 3 categories.
The 1st group would be those who are stunned with fear or admiration in the sight of him.
The 2nd group would be those who want to fight him but shortly back down after they lock eyes with him for a few seconds only to feel his rage and stopping power.
The 3rd group is just consisted of idiots that charge at him only to become flying meat pulp after a direct kick from the Sovreign. After reaching the boulder that the signless was standing on, he turned and sat. He looks down at the Signless as he waits for the trolls response.

Her footsteps are as fast as the thoughts whirring about her mind. The Keeper gives thanks that she escaped the exchange alive, and with her possessions no less. A bright point!

And the choice of which path to take was a difficult one. Slowly, as if each footfall made her more hesitant, she came to a stop a ways away from the battle, at the halfway point between her life and her future. Yes, before she herself knew what she'd do, the Keeper chose to follow the Signless. Maybe at a distance, and maybe with minimal contact. But she would follow. She is no coward, nor is she lacking curiosity.

If this was to be her one chance at a life, then she would choose a reckless path over a dull one.

Of course there was the matter of her hive, lusus, books, life, but that doesn't matter. One of her best qualities is being stubborn after all. No wonder she's still not dead.

Speaking of that redeeming quality, it is exactly that which is making her run towards a new life; one of day-to-day hope and new experiences. The Keeper has chosen to follow the Signless, and write history from the truth's point of view.

_{^{Too bad for the Marker. . .}}

The clown was quickly caught off guard by the sudden burst of telekinetic projectiles, hopping from side to side as they spun their siege hook to try and deflect as many as they could. A large broad sword embedded itself in the Trolls shoulder however, leaving them to wounded and distracted to block the charging thrust from the low blooded mercenary. The Deserter's sword impaled itself in the laughssassin's gut, spilling dark purple on the ground as the trolls shuddering stopped suddenly, no longer laughing internally.

The troll was silent for a second, before let out a half hearten chuckle and nodding to the Deserter "Well fought...." said a feminine voice, then the High blood went limp, sliding off the Deserter's blade and slumping onto the ground without a second word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sudden appearance of the Sovreign was at first ignored, however the meat mist that he lef tin his wake from those who foolishly tride to engage the man did garner much attention from many of the trolls. Those fighting on the outskirt kept up their fighting, but those closer to the signless stopped, watching the massive highblood approach the lowblood activist. Where the other trolls had felt fear when staring into the eyes of the Sovereign, the Signless did not.

His eyes stared directly into the Fuschia pools of color that were the Sovreign's, and while the Signless felt no fear, the Sovreign felt something as he stared into the wickedly bright candy red eyes that seemed to glow in the shade of the clouds and the signless's hood. The feeling was similar to what one would feel if they stared at a mountain from it's base. Vast and unyielding, and unmoved by the bluster of mortal hands.

The Signless stared up at the Sovreign, then bowed his head briefly as a greeting "Welcome Highblood....Do you come here for words or my blood?" he asked, his calm voice not seeming to waiver. However, the Sovreign knew, likely from centuries of experience, that this troll was not stupid. He feared the Sovreigns power like any sensible Troll would. But he did not show it, nor did he step back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the keeper is once more able to see the battle, she finds a peculiar sight. Sitting in the center, towering over the Signless even still, Was the Sovreign. And around them, Trolls of both sides stood still and silent at the sight of it, of the Signless standing firm even with such a massive troll within range of killing him so easily.

Around these onlookers, the fight continued, and was still brutal. They could not see what was happening, and could not notice those who did not fight, as their blood and their rage was to great.

High above the fight, the Psionic fought on against the higbloods own psionic, and an epic battle between these two mighty combatants went on over the whole seen. The sky was filled with red and blue light as they exchanged shots of kinetic beams and thrown objects

The Ellipsis finally came to. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask somebody, anybody, what had happened. The last thing he remembered was being carried by that self-righteous bitch after having accidentally shot yourself, then purposefully shooting the wall. You look around at the stark-white surroundings. There is only one place she would take you. The Doctorturer's. Well, maybe her room, but this was probably the Doctorturer's.

When you open your mouth, a hoarse rasping sound came out. You couldn't see anyone around, so yes, you cried. But only a little. You did dearly miss your ability to speak, but you knew why it was taken away --- practically, heresy.

You stood up slowly, ripping off your makeshift bandage. You hurt quite a bit, but you can keep going. Occasionally, your open wound would drip blood a little bit of blood, but not much, considering you had already lost quite a bit. Not enough to be fatal, not nearly enough to be hazardous, just enough to make you feel dizzy and week.

You slowly began your limp towards your own quarters, your injured arm held tightly in your uninjured one.

You soon realize you are completely lost in this part of the palace and have absolutely no idea how to get to your own quarters. Worse, nobody seems to be around, and you can't yell for them. You punch the wall with your uninjured arm in frustration.

Sovriegn Planted his chin upon his palm as he hunched over looking into the sea of trolls surrounding them. " Your vords vould be nice as I need to knov a couple ov vings. Vor one, vhat kind ov trolls do you have in your service? I ask because all I see are vighters and preachers at ve moment."

It has been a long time, a long time indeed passing in her mind.

But of course, she lives in a reality. And in this reality, she is side-stepping the carnage of the 'battle', while trailing after the group of religious trolls. Perhaps she will meet someone along the way, perhaps she will remain secluded from the other bodies until a later time in life.

We simply do not know this yet.

The Sufferer nodded, seemingly with a welcoming small smile as he sat down before the Highblood. While he was now even shorter then the sitting highblood, but he didn't seem to mind. "I have many warriors, and many preachers, however they ar enot the only ones amongst my brothers ans sisters. I have scribes, like my beloved Disciple, who record our sermons for posterity to remember. I possess psychics, who use their cursed gifts to aide spreading our message as well as aiding those in need, weather in combat or in the construction of wells and such. With so many Trolls, I believe i have Trolls of all walks of life and profession. However, in all honestly, I have only one kind of troll in my company." He spoke in his calm voice, gesturing occasionally to each example he gave as he spoke.

He then cleared his voice "And that kind, Highblood, is mortal and longing. So Highblood, does this answer your first question?" He asked the Sovreign.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the Ellipsis's displayed his motion of anger, a medical Troll bounded down the hall towards him. "Hey! Her Ascendency brought you to us so we may heal you. Return immediately to the bed." the green blood said, sounding a bit annoyed at the Troll. "The Empress will be displeased to not find you when she returns from the councle meeting."

The Ellipsis showed obvious distaste. Or, rather, annoyance, since he can't taste. As he slowly turned around and shifted his gaze to the other troll, his anger showing in his eyes. Eyes, something sensory he still has, locked in gaze with the other troll for a moment, revealing a deep sadness behind the mask of fury. He inhaled deeply, before pulling himself up to his full height and turning on his heel and continuing to walk further into, or out of the palace. He wasn't aware.

[Let her be displeased. For all the world, I could not share a single thread of care from any fiber of my being. It's not necessary that I be near her. Nor is it necessary I be near anyone. What use am I, a filthy lowblood with no ability to speak? Why she keeps me around is a mystery. I could've just as easily shot myself in the head back there. One simple twitch of the finger and she'd see. But I'll show her my resolve. I'll show them all.] The Ellipsis thought as he continued his trek. He dearly hoped he was walking out instead of in.

[It's been a while, and I apologise if I'm a bit off the timeline here]

Distra hissed angrily at the Purple blood's words, throwing in even more force in her vicious kicks and knee-kicks. "Why-will-you-not-die!" she growled in annoyance. It was rare for her to get so riled up like this, she was about to start cursing the clown when the Signless spoke. She paused, gazing at the Signless in pure wonder and admiration. When she turned her attention back to the purple blood, he was already dead, killed by someone else.

She stepped back, her jade eyes looking the troll up and down. "Who-are-you?" she asked, hostility in her voice.

The Deserter took pause from the sudden coherency of the High blood, watching her fall to the ground before quietly replying under his breath, "Yeah... well fought." He wiped his former opponents blood on his blade off on his sleeve, spinning it a few times in his hand to focus himself once again before running forward to fight another opponent.

However, he to was distracted by the Signless coming face to face with an intimidating approacher. He was too far away to hear, but he imagines that such a meeting would be massively fuckin' tense. Tense enough to stop any blade swung on the battlefield that day. Still, it didn't mater how momentous this meeting would be if the ambush slaughtered them all in the end. Denard decides to run towards the out skirts were skirmishes were still taking place. He was sure someone would fill him in on what transpired once the threat had been dealt with. Not like he had enough curiosity in him to care about 'primary sources', he would rather leave that shit to the Historians.

The Sovreign looks out into the crowd to avoid the signless face as well as hide the discomfort and disappointment from the answer and the scene before him mixing around in his head.
"So tell me, hov var does your message actually go by use viv overs. Do your vollovers and disciples shov ve same humility and mercy like you or are vey just volloving anover charismatic leader on his selv-righteous quest ov paragon."

The Signless nodded to the question from the Sovreign, seeming to think hard on the answer. He looked out over the followers he had, then looked to the Sovreign "I can only speak from what I have seen and experienced Highblood, and with that I have seen both. I have seen low bloods drawn to me not by my words but my voice alone. They were not concerned with peace or living together with highbloods. They simply sought chaotic change for the sake of change, with no eyes to the future that could be. They saw nothing but hate and cruelty and wished to do nothing bad add their own into this sea of despair." He said calmly, seeming to frown as he sighed "Whenever these people have come to me, and tried to simply follow my words and not take them to heart, I have always sent them away. They would never welcome the world we envision, and never do anything except to destroy or sabotage this dream...."

The Signless sighed closing his eyes as he remembered to many bright faces of those who followed him before, and their destroyed or angered faces as he had been forced to send them away. It had pained him, as each time he had been forced to cut ties and exile a member of his family for the betterment of the whole. He then smiled, warmth seeming to emanate from him as he began to speak again

"Against that though, I have seen high bloods whose kindness and generosity came from neither my sermons, my voice, or even the knowledge of my existence. They were naturally kind and sought the dream we all share instinctively. They built wells for the thirsty, they defended those under their care, and rule their territories with a firm but kind hand. Even when other would attack them, weather through words or steel, these Trolls weathered it and never abandoned their instinctual dream." he then looked the Highblood in the eye once more "These Trolls, the ones who shared and sought out our dream before I had ever spoken to them, are the ones who stand here today in my following. There are mercenaries who guard them, but they to deep down seek something they cannot find in this world today. So Highblood, I say with confidence, and pride, that those who follow and fight for the dream today are the one who truly exemplify my teachings."

The Signless stared at the Sovreign, satisfied with his answer. Should the Sovreign prove to be the opposite though, it would not matter. The Signless did not seek to brainwash this person into his belief. Merely to have him acknowledge it, and hopefully come to accept it's necessity.

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Distra looked upon a large brown blooded troll. He had the stature of giant, standing above Distra despite being a low blood. He smiled kindly as he held a large pillar in over his shoulder, purple blood splattered on it "Name's Yorgio, Highblood. Anbd I thought you'de need help with the Laughssassin there. He said with a kind smile, before the meeting was interupted by a throaty and deep laughter that rang out over the chaos.

The "dead" Purple blood held his gut as he laughed, standing back up slowly as his purple blood seemed to drip from his head in a small stream. His piercing yellow eyes seeming to be reddening somehow as his mirthful rage seemed to be rising.

"HAHAHAHAHA, WHAT A MUTHAFUCKING GREAT HIT THAT WAS. I THINK I CAN HEAR THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS THEMSELVES RIGHT NOW, WITH MY HEAD RINGING AND SHIT. I'LL HAVE TO SHOW YOU ALL MY TH-URGK" The highblood said, before being interrupted as he fell to his knee and seemed to release more blood from his head. He shook his head and seemed to grow more serious, though he still trembled with his mirthful rage "wElL sIs......sEeMs yOu wIn tHiS rOuNd.....bUt i dOuBt wE'vE sEeN tHe lAsT oF eAcH oThEr....." Th highblood said, before a spasming cloud of purple gas seemed to envelop him. Just before he was completely engulfed, he tilted his head to the side, hunched over, and stared directly into Distra eyes, his pupils seeming pinpricks of purple that stared straight into Distra's soul "I CAN'T MUTHAFUCKING WAIT FOR ROUND TWO SIS!" He said, before beginning to chuckle roughly and deeply as he was consumed by the smoke.

The brown blood swung for the smoke, releasing a roar as his pillar flew through the air and though the smoke. However, the chuckles faded and the highblood was gone. Only the purple stains on the dirt remaining.

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The Doctorurer still tried to chase down the Ellipsis, though seemed to freeze when the Psionnic had stared at him like he did. He stood there, frozen in what appeared to be surprise and sympathy, letting the yellowblood go with out much of a fuss.

With this, the Ellipsis was soon able to find the grand gates, large doors that acted as the entrance and exit to the Ascendency's palace. There were no guards, as no one would dare to attack the Ascendency. That, and she never bother to set any up, Once more her dispassionate stanc eon ruling showed flaws in her decisions.

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As the Deserter searched for a fight, he managed to spot three things. One, a Jade blood and a rather large statured Brown blood staring at a fading purple mist. Two, a small low blood who seemed to be standing well outside the fight and staring at it from a distance. And three, four higbloods surrounding a group of the Signless's followers and getting ready to move in for the kill. The signless followers seemed well armed and trained, but they were two against four regardless.