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 Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 10:10 pm
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 There's something in these woods...
It felt like sweeps since Muerte fond himself privy to his own hive. The drama that was the Phoenix Initiative had honestly not happened sweeps in the past like it felt, but the sheer amount of energy the fiasco had drained from the doctor had to have shed a few off his lifespan regardless. It was about damn time he got back to his own hobbies and interests and meaningful pursuits.
Which he did instantaneously. The dust was cleared from his laboratory (though the rest of his hive remained in its usual shambles), and all his documents found their way back to a standard but organized chaos that so defined his life. Even his trophy—if it could be called that—found its way onto his main desk, suspended in formaldehyde, fingers outstretched. After figuring out a particularly difficult calculation, Muerte found it therapeutic to high-five the severed hand he brought home with him, feeling some sort of smug-but-twisted satisfaction in this new rewarding ritual. Pleased with your continued assistance, Errade.
Not that all of the Rebellion's spectacle was lost on him, however. The greenblood wondered if Aprife would try writing to him again, or if he would receive word from the group itself (seeing as how—eyes drifting over to the gleaming phoenix pin on his desk—he was "technically" a pledged member now). He had agreed because of his interest in the mother grub, but as for the cause itself... well, that was a bought interest, tucked away in a weighted bullion pouch from one persistent aforementioned yellowblood. Beetles talked after all.
As for the new mar on his face, well, it had healed (though he used the term loosely). The scar he received on his lip was easily the most unfortunate part of the experience, and he scowled whenever he was even slightly reminded of it. As much as he'd like to leave it in the past and move on, it was a constant reminder that his perfection was now even more blemished, and the thought absolutely sickened him.
Aha!
Remove that thought. Who was he kidding? Muerte Perist was a paragon of perfection and he would be quick to remind it to all and everyone who asked. He didn't even care how redundant it was to state that, because the truth was the truth, and he couldn't help that, sorry not sorry.
The greenblood heaved a heavy, annoyed snort. He was a little riled now, only a little. Midnight walks weren't ever his thing, but it was time he went and got himself re-acquainted with the outside world (and maybe to get some fresh air, because you know, he wasn't at all worked up). Surely some hunts had gone and passed in his time away from home, and if he was particularly lucky he might be able to scrounge up some scraps- perhaps even a full specimen. It was rare, but it had happened, and while Muerte considered himself very realistic, he was also a tiny bit of an optimist at times. You never knew with his neck of the woods, after all. Just about anything could happen. Rising to his feet, he casually made his way downstairs.
The air outside his hive was warm and heavy but otherwise calm if not somewhat oppressive. The forest always had an eerie quality to it, but Muerte found a strange peace with it. Sure, he had 'neighbors' among the woods, but for the most part he was alone and left to his devices and he quite preferred it that way.
The greenblood was traveling light tonight. Should his luck fall through and he discovered something worthy to bring back to his hive, he would need most of his energy for it. Finding bodies was exciting, but hauling them back was another story entirely. There was a fair majority of the time when he had to sever the corpse up right there and then, taking the prize back in pieces; this sort of thing never bothered him of course, but he always preferred to have it as intact as possible. Alas, Muerte Perist was a troll of science and smarts at the cost of a decidedly lacking arsenal of strength.
His bonesaw, however limited it was in an actual fight, remained at the ready nonetheless.
It wouldn't be long before the doctor found hope in red tipped grass. Venturing deep into the woods usually meant he'd find the residue of a frantic life-or-death chase, and he could only assume this one probably ended in the latter. Curious. He decided to follow after it.
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Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2015 9:55 pm
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The air was heavy with activity. Flapbeasts were scattering when they were not shrieking. Smaller prey animals had either fled or hid. In the distance, rioting could be heard, echoing through the glade. Every few minutes, it sounded farther and farther away, a storm that was rolling past. There may be damage, but the calm would soon return. Luxara, meanwhile, crouched stiffly in the trees until they were gone. She never wanted to be noticed during a hunt, or else become a target. Calling that kind of attention to herself would be unprofessional, scold-worthy, and dangerous. In the forest, you never take unnecessary risks. Nothing within the realm knew pity, whether it be troll or wild beast. Caution was the line between life and death.
As the birds slowly started to settle down again, she started standing up to full height, hearing her knees pop. How long had she been holding out? Hefting her crossbow, Luxara decided it didn't matter. Once she got moving, it would be fine.
She stepped from her current branch to another, then both feet, and worked up to running and hopping from tree to tree as she searched below the canopy. Maybe she could find something still spooked by all the racket nearby, and so wouldn't notice her until it was too late.
While she continued on, she began to notice the area was getting less pristine. Damage to the trees, like frayed bark from gunshots. Shoeprints in the dirt. Holes of varying size.
Blood. A rainbow of blood. Yes, this was definitely a recent site of the hunt. She doubted there would be anything around of any value to her.
However, some squawks caught her attention. Looking up through the canopy, she caught sight of shadows circling in the night sky. Buzzards. Something was about to bite the dust soon. The greenblood veered towards the site the ugly wingbeasts were presiding over. Her route was full of more forest destruction, and some amount of blood. Only one color, though. Finally coming upon a clearing, she jumped down.
There was a figure a little ways off. A troll on their hands and knees, clothing and hair a mess, a broken horn, and losing a lot of blood. Without a second thought, she ran towards them. If this redblood was a victim, they needed help. So far, the only sounds were coming from the scavengers waiting for a free meal. Luxara doubted there would be an ambush waiting for her. The main group was definitely much farther east. Holding out for a straggler who still cared about others would be like waiting for trolls to be able to stand the sunlight.
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Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2015 11:27 am
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Well. This was a little surprising.
Muerte still remained at a respectable distance. In fact, he could hardly make out any of the finer details, aside from the fact that one was decidedly down and one apparently able. He watched them. It became obvious after a few passing moments that the able one wasn't a hunter, or they were at least taking a damn good time to deliver the finishing blow. Were they stooping down to the injured troll's level? Did they mean to help, perhaps?
He crouched down, brushing his gloved hand on the generous amounts of red blood splattered on the ground. It was fresh, wet, sticky, too much. If the other troll had any inclination of helping... well, he was pretty sure it wouldn't do any good, not that he would have tried to save them anyway. Especially given just how scarce medical expertise was on Alternia. The clock in Muerte's mind ticked too late.
The featherbeasts in the sky flew languid laps in the sky, circling, patiently waiting. That was a sure enough sign.
Muerte would have to play his cards carefully. He wanted that goddamn body. It had been far too long since he had a good specimen in his grasp, and he had work to do. The only obstacle was that Muerte simply wasn't the fighting kind, and on a planet where might made a lot of right, the greenblood had to wonder if it risking himself would be worth it. The rational part of him said no; maybe the other troll would abandon the redblood once they died (soon, Muerte assured himself, it would be soon) but there were also many variables he couldn't account for in that equation. He didn't really know what would happen, no one could predict that, and he wasn't sure if the stranger would just leave the corpse...
The stubborn part of him said go for it. There was a very good chance that he would come out of this encounter injured, battered... but he felt confident in his assumption that he wouldn't end up dead, not unless he pressed too far or placed the other troll in a life-or-death sticky sort of situation. If their first reaction was to help rather than slaughter, then they were probably someone reasonable. Probably. Besides, this was even all banking on the fact that the other troll would try and protect the dying one.
Well, that was settled. Returning back up to a standing position, he moved to approach the two, slowly and calculative. His hand was still firmly grasped on his saw. The closer he got to the pair, the more damage he saw done to the redblood, the more assured he was that they simply weren't going to make it. Trolls were a hardy species, but they had limits too. This one was just about at that threshold.
"There isn't anything you can do," his voice was deadpan, statement finite. There was still a fair amount of distance he kept between himself and the—well, judging by the skirt, she was a greenblood too. He didn't recognize her. There would be time to wonder later whether she was native to these woods or foreign. As it was, he needed to keep focused. Even if he had a gut level intuition about the situation, that didn't mean it could turn out of his favor.
Gl!tch~ o < o SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG
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Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2015 5:44 pm
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Someone was coming; her head only ticked a fraction to check it out. Another greenblood out here in the wilderness. Interesting. Clothes were too in tact to be prey, but also not what she would call dressed for the game. She didn't usually expect midbloods to kill for sport, anyway, but there was a first time for everything. Luxara stayed on her guard. She checked for a pulse in the meantime. The lowblooded troll was alive, but fading fast. They barely even reacted to her touch. If she could stop the bleeding, find them a place to rest, then maybe...maybe...
She tore a strip off her shirt to make a torneque; tops were always replaceable. There wasn't any time to clean the wounds up further, but this was a start.
That sort of act wouldn't make her a saint or even guarantee that they would live a better life. But wouldn't it be a wonderful little revolt to cheat the system? Trolls came here to die. She refused to do that herself after all these sweeps; why not help someone else avoid what was expected of them? Trolls shouldn't be sport for the higher crust anyhow.
Luxara looked up at Muerte while he finally spoke. Even as the words sunk in, as if death themself was speaking, she kept a hard smile. "How do you know that? Did you watch?" She doubted the troll had any hand in actually attacking the redblood; Muerte held a saw clean of this exact hue of blood. There seemed to be no long ranged weapon on his person, either. Perhaps an accomplice to another hunter, if anything.
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2015 11:22 pm
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He watched the feeble attempt at a torneque and bit back a laugh. He supposed it would do as a makeshift really, but It was amusing watching someone try, knowing that it was completely pointless. Was there some sort of comfort that trolls tried to seek out? Was hope a medium to explore that solace? Muerte wouldn't know, probably never will, not that he really cared. He turned his nose up, almost as if he was looking down on the situation.
"Did I watch? What would it matter?" he started walking in a very slow circle, arcing around the fellow greenblood at a considerable distance. "I wouldn't have needed to watch anything. I have everything I need right here."
He motioned to the labored, dying redblood. "Anyone with the correct medical expertise would know they're sitting on death's doorstep." Trolls had a lot of blood, but that redblood was ashen. No, he didn't need to be close, didn't need to be surveying the extent and details of each gash. He'd seen this scene play out over and over and over in his head before. Each time it ended the same; it would this time too, regardless of what this troll was trying to prove.
"And being that I am such a character, I can conclude you're effectively wasting your time.". He tapped his wrist as if a watch was there, lips crooked into what could be a sardonic grin.
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Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2015 1:41 pm
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"Okay, Mister Medical Expertise, then why are you here? What's there to gain from hanging around if you are just going to sit on your hands and decide someone's fate without giving them half a chance?" she scoffed. What an attitude this guy had. What an attitude! She tracked him, with her own thin grin on her face.
He was circling her like prey. Dangerous, very dangerous. For instance, she wasn't one to be circled like that. He wouldn't toy with her like a purrbeast and a squeakbeast. Not some done-up doctor boy, heck no. This was her forest, and he could learn to understand how it worked.
Once she checked the pulse, which was still there, and not too terribly weak, from what she could figure. If it was a wild animal, it likely would've used what strength it had to lash out at her at this point.
Figuring that she was still in the right on the matter of life, she pulled up her crossbow and fired a warning shot at Muerte's feet. The squeakbeast bites back.
"Either shut up and do something useful with that 'expertise' of yours or get the hell out. I don't need some a*****e talking down to me."
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Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2015 2:21 pm
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"Why am I here? The body, of course." the way he spoke was as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, shoulders rising in a tiny shrug. He stopped circling her, standing there with a hand on his hip, his other hand still firm on his bonesaw, "I could honestly care less about the hunters and their stupid brutality quotas. A doctor is always in need of the right parts."
The warning shot, however, made the greenblood jerk back instinctively, bolt sticking out of the ground. It could have easily been in embedded in his body instead.
Now his smirk was far more agitated, more of a scowl than anything. Had his luck not been dry up to this point, he would have let the troll off the hook, stalked back to his hive. The redblood was going to die anyway, what did it matter to him? But the fact was, he wanted that body, and he wasn't ready to throw in the proverbial towel.
"It doesn't matter if I get it now or if I get it later. That son of a b***h is going to die either way, and you're just going to throw it away when they do. Come on now, I'll even make it painless for them." he sneered, sarcasm dripping off his voice.
"Think of it as favor from one fellow greenblood to another, since you're such a goddamn bleeding heart."
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Gl!tch~ rolled 2 6-sided dice:
5, 3
Total: 8 (2-12)
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2015 6:50 pm
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HP: 20/20
DMG: 3 + 1 = 4
A doctor is always in need of the right parts.
What could that possibly mean? It didn't sit right with her. Even more unsettling, he wouldn't back down. Try to do something good, and she was getting resistance for it. Her smile hardeened. Twitched.
"Bleeding heart, huh?" Luxara reloaded, quick as she could. If he couldn't take one warning, maybe he would get it this time. Maybe one injury would get the a*****e to back the hell off.
She aimed at his shoulder and, from one greenblood to another, fired. Then leaned back, lowering her weapon in hopes that, hey, maybe he'd get it. Maybe he wouldn't waste even more precious time dickering over this some more. There were plenty of parts elsewhere.
"I dunno, guy. You're the one bleeding here," she quipped.
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
5, 5
Total: 10 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Feb 15, 2017 12:55 pm
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He watched as Luxara slowly reloaded the crossbow, knowing damn well what was coming next. Despite that, Muerte was not fast enough to avoid getting shot even knowing that it was coming, and he ducked right as the bolt grazed his arm. Another inch to the side and it would have been embedded in his shoulder.
Didn't mean he didn't roar—or screech was probably a better term—as his hand shot up to cradle the newly opened wound. "You b***h!" He sneered, dripping with metaphorical venom. "Alternia wasn't built on the backs of coddling the weak!" It was the strong, the smart, the worthy, the competent. "There's no helping that troll! If you were really so honorable—" he spat out the word like it was poison, "—you'd give him mercy through death."
But they obviously wouldn't see eye to eye, that much was abundantly clear. He grappled for his saw before charging forward, blind with rage.
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Gl!tch~ rolled 2 6-sided dice:
3, 5
Total: 8 (2-12)
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
3, 3
Total: 6 (2-12)
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Gl!tch~ rolled 2 6-sided dice:
3, 2
Total: 5 (2-12)
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
5, 1
Total: 6 (2-12)
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Gl!tch~ rolled 2 6-sided dice:
4, 4
Total: 8 (2-12)
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Posted: Mon Jun 10, 2019 4:48 pm
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
2, 3
Total: 5 (2-12)
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