NextStuck - SGRUB RP

Your name is AVALON IJAETH.

You have a very limited variety of interests, but are EXTREMELY PRODUCTIVE. Your main priority involves KILLING HIGHBLOODS, especially when they THREATED LOWBLOODSL LIKE YOU. Because you have BROWN BLOOD, its very common for those fucking highbloods to come knocking.

It is also the reason for the DECOMPOSING CORPSES OF HIGHBLOODS outside of your Hive.

What? It's not like you can burn them. The smoke will just bring more of them. And it's not like you can bury them, you lost the card for shovelkind sweeps ago. Besides, you much prefer your machetekind any day.

As you've previously stated, you have very limited interests. Aside from the more violent stuff, you also enjoy ONLINE GAMING.

And that's why you and five of your friends are downloading this game that's been BLOWING UP among Alternian teenagers that FREQUENT THE INTERNET. Apparently it's highly interactive and extremely difficult, and you set up games with OTHER TROLLS.

You and your closest friend among the other five (not counting your Moirail, Kelran), Corvus (also known as bibliophileGamer) have done the majority of the planning for your 'Session', as the others have begun calling it. Corvus is awesome but you'll admit that you've been using him for your own goals, maybe just a little.

You see, Corvus has some Highblood friends that are joining the Session. Apparently they're better than most Highbloods, but you've dedicated your young life to killing them. What's better than combining what are practically your only two interests?

Nothing. Nothing is better. So when you wake up hours after you'd planned to do so, you're a bit pissed the hell off. You're still wiping sopor off your body and pulling your shirt over your head when you log onto Trollian. Currently, Corvus is the only one online. Unfortunately your Moirail is offline, currently, so you'll have to wait to speak with her later. You frown at your ChumpRoll, disgusted by the colors of some of your contacts. One sweep ago, if someone had told you this would be what your ChumpRoll looked like, you'd likely have killed them.



It's alright, Avalon, just breathe. They'll be dead in due time. You troll Corvus as you begin loading your CLIENT PLAYER program for SGRUB.

Spoiler:

You lean up to the large machine and turn the wheel. It's a bit stubborn and it creeks way too fucking loud when it finally gives, but after just a quarter turn of it the lid of that weird tube thing pops open. There's a flash of light, but when it clears, a brown ball is floating in the air. It's glowing and it looks like the logo for SGRUB. You notice that it's in your exact blood color, but decide to ignore that.

Spoiler:

Loud buzzing and yelling pulls your attention away from your Husktop and prompts you to run to your window. Whatever's going on is a respectable distance away, but you see two trolls and your lusus in a not-so-friendly confrontation. Your lusus has always been territorial but it's farther away from your Hive than you've ever seen it.

The trolls are yelling something at each other that you can't make out, and weapons are brandished. You don't bother with the stairs, instead throwing yourself out the window and sliding down the curved edge of your hive.

Their auras come into focus as you get closer. They're small with jagged edges, which usually means that they're stupid and aggressive. The color is wavering somewhere between a purple and more reddish color, showing that something is pissing them off, obviously your lusus.

You forgot to mention earlier that you are an AUROR. Ever since you were a grub you've been able to detect peoples' Auras, and you can tell any number of things about them by looking at them. Smooth, wavy edges around them means that they're calm, relaxed. The more jagged the edges, the more aggressive.

You suspect that the person to create the Hemospectrum was also an Auror, because the Hemospectrum and Auras sometimes share qualities. Highbloods tend to be very violent, and aggressive auras share color with the highbloods. If someone's aura is Fuschia, look the fuck out because they're dangerous as all Hell. If someone had your blood color for their aura, brown, they are generally a calm person. You often wonder what color your own aura is, but alas, you can't tell.

The two trolls in front of you, a male and a female, have violet and purple auras respectively. Neither of them are Sea Dwellers but the symbol colors on both their shirts place them quite high on the Hemospectrum. The male is swinging around some sort of a flail and the girl has a rifle trained on your Lusus. Waspdad is already dripping with brown blood, identical to your own, when she fires again.

"DAD!" you scream, but it's too late. Your custodian is shot straight in the thorax and falls onto the ground with a loud thud. You scream and slip your machete from your Strife Specibus in a flash, already charging at the nearest troll, the boy.

Both of their auras grow increasingly aggressive as you sock the guy straight in the nose, grabbing him by his large horn before he can hit the ground. You shove your machete into his thigh and pull him upwards by the horn, blocking the next bullet fired by his friend with his lower back. He screams as the bullet sends indigo blood flying out of him, more of it bleeding from his leg as his heart rate climbs. You pull the machete out and drop him, then darting for the girl.

She shoots again but her hands are shaking so badly that she misses horribly. You grab her hair and slam her hard onto the ground, then pulling her back up roughly before breaking her nose with another slam onto the dirt. She screams and you hate the sound of it, you hate the sight of that dark purple blood seeping out of her busted nose, watching it taint the dirt under her. You spin your machete over in your hand and shove it straight into the back of her neck, twisting it to the side and decapitating her with a sickening crunch of bones.

You grab the severed head by the hair and walk back over to the boy, now crawling away and holding his leg for dear life. You drop the girl's head in his path and listen to him scream only until you grab his horn and yank him back into the air.

"You brought this on yourself," you growl, machete starting to hover closer and closer to his neck. His eyes widen and he tries to shake himself out of your grip.

"Hey, dude, come on your lusus attacked US!" he screeches, and you tighten your grip around his horn painfully.

"You think I give a fuck who started it?" you ask. You don't want an answer.

Here, let me show you something. Hold this." You plant the machete in the wound in his leg and he screams again. You take the other horn in your hand and start dragging him back towards your Hive. You think he's crying but you tune out his babbling and take him behind your Hive.

The smell hits you like a brick wall and the bleeding troll loses breakfast on the front of his shirt, coughing and retching mixing together as he smells the bodies. At least fifteen dead trolls are lying there in a huge pile, limbs dismembered and a ton of different blood colors all mixing together in one disgusting package. His eyes widen and his struggling intensifies, knowing that he's about to join the pile.

"Holy shit, you're fucking crazy!" he screams. You lay him on the ground and break off one of his horns, and the scream reaches all new octaves. He's shuddering beneath you, and you barely let him catch his breath before you break the other one off as well. He's sobbing and bleeding all over the place, and you guess you've given him enough shit. You grab your machete from his leg and plant it into his back, breaking his spine and shooting straight into his heart. His body slumps and the guy is skinny enough for you to toss easily into the pile, wiping the nasty indigo blood off on his (clean) pants leg.

You return to your lusus and the girl, captchaloguing both the head and body of the purple-blood as well as your lusus. The walk back to your hive is far longer than it seems, the body of your custodian sitting heavily in its card.

You don't claim that you've ever been close with your lusus. But it's hard to lose the creature that raised you, no matter how you slice it. You toss the girl out the window and into the pile before returning to your Husktop.

Spoiler:

You know that you aren't thinking clearly, but you toss the bloodied body into the kernelsprite anyway. There's another flash of light and the previous ball of brown light has transformed into the head of your Lusus, anteenae and all, hovering a foot above your head.

Spoiler:

It takes a few minutes for you and Corvus to really get rolling. You and up fucking around with Alchemiter a little with the first dowel you got, getting a Generic Object or some shit that's completely pointless. That card Corvus deployed for you seemed to make something special out of the Cruxtite Dowel, and since the Alchemiter is the only machine you HAVEN'T used, it seemed like the most valid option. Eventually you make this orb sort of thing with lines in it where it moves, sort of like the map from Troll Treasure Planet.

Spoiler:

The ground shakes as one of the edges comes full circle and it's knocked out of your hand when your elbow hits hard on the ground. You swear loudly and you think some of your stuff falls off their shelves. You groan when it finally stops and pull your Husktop back onto your lap, remarkably unbroken depspite its fall onto the ground.

Spoiler:

You slam your husktop shut and dart for your desk, rifling through the massive pile of captchalogue cards. Somewhere in the bottom of this is something you haven't used in ages, or even thought about in nearly three sweeps.

When you were a grub, someone came to you in your Hive. Your Lusus treated the guy like they were old friends, but he simply swatted it aside and came to you, still a wriggler. He handed you a Fetch Modus and a single Captchalogue card, and inside of that was a journal. The Fetch Modus, Chastity, makes it so that you will find the key to unlock it only when you truly need it. This person told you that the key would be in your desk once your Hive was moved. You'd waved that off as impossible for sweeps, but now...

You dust off the Chastity modus and switch to it, and your hand brushes across the metal key sitting in the top drawer. Your hand barely unlocks the sweeps-old captchalogue card and let the journal materialize in your hands.

The book is bound in leather that seems like new, stored safely in the card. You flip between its pages quickly, examining the entire thing written in the color of your blood. The handwriting is very similar to your own but not exact. You shrug and flip back to the first page.

Dearest Avalon,

At the time of writing this, you are merely a grub. I want to see your life, and all of the things you're going to do. But I cannot, for by the time this journal is completed, my life will have long since ended.

I am the Haymaker, and I am your Ancestor. I know this is, well, honestly quite ridiculous from your perspective, but you're going to have to take my word for it. Much is at stake, after all.

You found the key, as I instructed you as a mere Grub. Your Hive has just been moved to a place known as the Medium. You have just completed the Tutorial of sorts for SGRUB, and have left Alternia behind you. Here there is nothing that you know. No Hemospectrum, no culling, nothing. Merely the consorts and the path before you. I wish I could give you more specific information, but my knowledge of you is limited. Most of what I am saying comes to me in dreams, whispers in my ear. Memories of my own life begin to fade into shadows, replaced by a life I haven't lived. Faces become more and more unfamiliar each passing day, and I fear that my sanity may slip away with them.

Haymaker, even, begins to sit horribly in my mouth. A title I chose for myself upon reaching Adulthood now stinging my tongue as a terrible inaccuracy. As my memories fade, my thoughts and personality are also being replaced. Soon I fear I will not know my own name, and begin replacing it with another; the name befitting my new life. Towards the ends of these pages, I suspect as much will have already taken place.

Details of your path are becoming clearer even now. This journal shall function as an aid for the Game, and I will write as long as my hand allows me. Heed every word and leave nothing out. I shall go back and amend what I can as details become more apparent to me.

Let us begin with the Alchemiter. That machete of yours simply will not do.