Ustuck: Get Recruited by Troll Mafia [Closed RP]

"The first I'll send to meet you later tonight. She's a yellowblood chemist named Keeler. I figured that'd be a useful skillset, if you need to deal with lusii. Tranqs and antivenom and whatnot. She's got pretty powerful psionics, too, and those always come in handy. The other... well, you'll meet them eventually."

Damn MIA sniper.

You stand and pull a slip of paper from the inside pocket of your jacket and hand it to Kezria. "Keeler's contact info. She has yours, too. You can work out the meeting details yourselves, just get business started tonight.

"If you run into trouble, you know how to get a message to me. I don't need reports, just get the job done and let me know when you do."

And with that, you swoop out of the storehive as authoritatively as you entered.

 

"Oh, okay, thank you." You take the slip of paper and put it in your pocket.

You give a little sigh of relief when he leaves. He wasn't being threatening or anything, it's just that you feel a little nervous around him.

You go ahead and close your shop for the rest of the night so you can start planning. First you need to figure out which favors you're going to call in...

 

Your lusus redecorated the respiteblock while you were gone.

That...that has to be what this is. You left the hive for two tilts and your doting, meddlesome Bugmom has already remodeled the place. What a plausible thing for her to do.

The shattered windows and overturned furniture look very avant-garde, and totally not like some trolls broke into your respiteblock while you were away. You think the splotches of many-hued blood on the walls are intended as a postmodern indictment of the hemospectrum reminiscent of Troll Jackson Pollock. And are not the result of those trolls maybe getting into a violent altercation with your lusus after you left her in the hive alone. It’s definitely that first thing.

"Okay, Bugmom," you say, not at all hysterical or frightened for your absent lusus’s safety. "Good job with the hive, you can come out now."

You maneuver around the remains of what was once an artful end table, and step squarely into a puddle the deep, unmistakable shade of your lusus’s blood.



"Papillona?"

 

Your name is Keeler Altair.

You are possessed of many INTERESTS, many of which revolve around the building and maintenance of SPACESHIPS. Since you were a small grub, you have dreamed of the day of Ascension when you can finally become a HELMSMAN, a job which is both extremely NECESSARY to the empire and also REALLY FREAKING COOL. You spend most of your time designing and building RIGS and working on your CODING skills, which by this point are pretty DECENT if you do say so yourself. They could, however, always be better, especially if you want to be the BEST HELMSMAN the Empire has EVER SEEN.

To this end, you also keep BEES, and you cultivate their MIND HONEY to help strengthen your PSIONIC POWERS. You are constantly coming up with new RECIPES for different varieties of honey, in your quest to find the most potent mixture without actually frying your thinkpan too badly.

Your trolltag is autonomousIcarus and you speak w1th the numerals 0f beenary c0de, as a way 0f subtly lett1ng any p0tent1al 1mper1al sc0uts kn0w that y0u are ready anyt1me they want t0 let y0u bee a battlesh1p.

What will you do?

 

> Keeler: Examine lusus.

What are you talking about? There is nothing to see here, just your normal, boring sheep lusus, who is certainly NOT wearing fake FINS and THRUSTERS. Even if there were any such things in your hive, you certainly would not have put them on for a rousing game of INTERGALACTIC EXPESHIPTION. That would be a SILLY thing to do and you are definitely not a SILLY troll.

> Keeler: Eat honey.

No! This is a special batch of your latest recipe attempt. You are saving that for your CONTACT, who will probably sell it on the BLACK MARKET. Not that you would know. Black market dealings can be a cullable offence, especially for lowbloods like you.

You make it a policy to know as little as possible about where your honey ends up, for PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY. You refuse to let something so small bar you from becoming a helmsman. You also refuse to let something large bar you from becoming a helmsman. Basically, nothing will try to get in the way of you piloting a spaceship if it knows what's good for it.

> Keeler: Eat honey.

Oh, all right. You suppose one small taste can't hurt anything.
Wow. You really outdid yourself with this batch. Not quite strong enough for you to destroy your hive again, but certainly enough to boost your psionics a noticeable amount.

==>

Huh. You might need to make another batch. This one seems to have disappeared sometime in the past...two hours? Weird. You could have sworn it was earlier than that. Perhaps your VERY TINY ADDICTION is getting worse? No, it must be that the batch was a tad too strong. With a very low VAPOR PRESSURE. Nothing to worry about.

Oh. Huh. Your trollian is flashing with a reminder from your contact to message some new asshole he knows about a job. How long has that been there? Oh well, might as well message them and see what's up.

> Keeler: Pester asshole.

 

Sigh. You are not looking forward to this. Every time you have to talk to someone, without fail, you wind up with your walk stump in your mouth.

Oh well, if the Kingpin orders you to, you don't have a choice. At least talking business is easier than trying to make small talk. Mostly. Hey, have your palms always been this sweaty? Maybe it's a side effect of the honey. You should go write that down.

>Keeler: Stop spacing out.

Fiiiiiine. You pull up a new message. Here's hoping they're not the usual brand of asshole that your contact sends to you.

autonomousIcarus [AI] began trolling faithfulIntellect [FI]

AI: Are y0u K1ngp1n's fr1end?
AI: 1 hear y0u have a j0b f0r me.
FI: ((uh)) (Friend is a strong word, but I guess so?)
FI: (More like he has a job for us.)
FI: (There's a lususnapping ring operating on his turf and he wants us to clear them out)
FI: (You, someone else, me, and whomever I decide to bring with me)
AI: Why d0es he want y0u?
AI: And als0 what the fuck d0es he want us t0 d0 ab0ut it?
FI: *shrug* (he wants it done peacefully if possible) (maybe make them part of his group)
FI: {That!} (is a good question)
FI: (My guess is, find them, talk to them, get them to a) join him or b) stop.)
FI: (there might be some fighting in there, it depends)
AI: D0 we actually kn0w anyth1ng ab0ut wh0's inv0lved or where they are 0r anyth1ng l1ke that?
AI: 0r are we just gett1ng sent 0ff 0n a w1ld g00se chase?
AI: Aga1n.
FI: (again?) (I've never done anything like this before for him)
FI: ((honestly i thought he would've told you some of this...))
FI: (uh, they hate highbloods? and they are nabbing lusii) (huh, yeah that's all I got)
AI: 0h wa1t.
AI: 0h fuck.
AI: 1 b0tched th1s d1dn't 1.
AI: H1, my name 1s Keeler.
AI: 1t's n1ce t0 meet y0u.
FI: (what?)
FI: (oh! hi!)
FI: {I'm Kezria!}
AI: Yeah, K1ngp1n's n0t f0nd 0f bee1ng the 0ne t0 f1gure 0ut the pesky deta1ls 0f th1ngs l1ke th1s.
FI: (Oh, uh. I guess he's a busy guy) (probably has other things to worry about)
AI: But 1'm sure y0u have l0ts 0f exper1ence.
FI: (Experience. Right.)
FI: (so, do you want to meet up in person to get all the planning details out, or do we pick you up on the way, or what?)
AI: 1t m1ght bee a better 1dea f0r me t0 head t0 y0ur h1ve, 1'm a b1t 0ut 0f the way 0ver here.
AI: K1ngp1n sent me y0ur address s0 1 can bee there whenever.
FI: (Hmm. Maybe come out tomorrow or the next night?) (I still need to talk to my contacts and bring them up to speed.)
AI: T0m0rr0w w0rks. That sh0uld g1ve me en0ugh t1me t0 get my h1ve sh1pshape beef0re head1ng 0ver.
FI: (Alright, see you then.)

faithfulIntellect [FI] ceased trolling autonomousIcarus [AI]

Well. That went about as well as...No. No that was excruciating. Which asshole decided to put you in charge of your own words? Clearly, a poorly thought out decision. Well, at least you have a reprieve until tomorrow before you have to interact with Kezria again.

 

You are about to troll your moirail when Keeler messages you. You chat a little and then sign off after agreeing to meet with her tomorrow. You feel a little overwhelemed with everything moving so fast. You also realize that you don't really have much by way of information about the trolls you're trying to find. Not to mention a plan for how to stop them...

Before you work yourself up too much, freaking out about everything, you think it's probably better to go ahead and troll your moirail. Both to tell her about the thing and also maybe calm down a bit.

Looks like she's not online right now, so you'll just leave her a message so she can see it when she gets on later.

faithfulIntellect [FI] began trolling insidiousHuldra [IH]

FI: (Hey, Iglora)
FI: (So a thing happened.) (Remember the Kingpin guy I told you about?)
FI: (Yeah, well) (He has a job for me.)
FI: (And I said yes) (because what {else} was I supposed to do?)
FI: (So, uh. I might need your help.) (With a few things.)
FI: {So message me back soon!} (Thanks!)

faithfulIntellect [FI] ceased trolling insidiousHuldra [IH]

While you're at it, you decide to troll one of your friends and see if they'd be willing to help. Again, she's not online, so you leave a message

faithfulIntellect [FI] began trolling pocketWarhead [PW]

FI: (Yo, Astroh!)
FI: (Feel like fucking up a lususnapping/smuggling ring?)
FI: (Because, uh, that's a thing I need to do and I could use some help)
FI: (If you're interested.)
FI: (Lemme know and I'll try to get you more details)

faithfulIntellect [FI] ceased trolling pocketWarhead [PW]

Now, all you have to do is wait.

 

Your name is LUKASZ FEHRRE, and your lusus has been kidnapped.

It is, as usual, ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT. You went off and left her all alone with nothing to defend herself with but her powerful wings and piercing proboscis and killer instincts honed from sweeps of living as an apex predator. If only you had been there to protect her.

Whoever took Papillona left in a hurry. There are still some throwing stars embedded in your door and a grappler hooked on the windowsill. Under the couch you find a pair of sunglasses, a broken necklace, and the mangled remains of somebody’s arm. Your poor lusus. She must have been so scared.

It’s not much to go on, that’s for sure. You can keep an eye out for one-armed brownbloods, but they’re probably lying low or maybe just dead now. So that’s no good.

What you need is to figure out who sent these trolls to grab Papillona, and why. All you know for certain is they’re a pathetic, pusherless creep if they’d stoop so low as to kidnap another troll’s lusus.

> Lukasz: Wait.

That creep-ass adult from the shop!

It all makes sense. He showed up the same time you did, when Papillona was at your hive all alone and vulnerable. The shoptroll even asked about your lusus right before the adult came in looking for a private talk. Probably didn’t want her giving the game away.

Well, you think with a grin. Now you have a lead. It can’t be hard to track down a showy, Ascension-dodging highblood in a tacky indigo suit. And when you do, you’ll be ready.

You grab your biggest, heaviest, most impractical mace, and a pair of goggles so no one will see your blood color if you happen to collapse into a pile of heartbroken, justified tears.

You’ve already got food from the shop. You pick your bristlestick off the floor and your compact husktop. You try to think of anything else you might need. Bandages. Your lusus is hurt and these trolls might not even care. It’s a good thing you’ve got a lot of linens.

The bandages are buried in your craft pile, which is apparently the one thing in your respiteblock the kidnappers didn’t feel the need to upend. There’s a half-finished sweater near the top. Papillona must have been working on it after you left.

Oh, fuck, the goggles they do nothing.

> Lukasz: Captchalogue items.

Problem. That adult could be holding your lusus anywhere. There’s no way you’ll be able to find the creep before the captchacoon hatches. You think, if you want to bring supplies on this journey, you might have to...carry them? Like, in some kind of receptacle?

> Lukasz: Use your crafting skills to make some kind of receptacle.

You place your supplies in this ‘receptacle’. When you’re done, you gingerly hook your arms through the loopy straps and balance the whole thing on your back. You now have everything you could possibly need on this trip with none of the encumbrances of a ridiculous fetch modus.

…

This feels wrong.

Anything else before you head out?

> Lukasz: …say goodbye?

Hm. Morbid. But it’s a fair point. Let’s not kid yourself, if Papillona couldn’t fight these trolls off, you are almost certainly traveling to your death. It might be polite to give your friends a heads up that you’re embarking on a suicide mission.

Oh, right. You don’t have those. You don’t even have enemies, which on Alternia is exactly the same thing. You have trolls that find you annoying, and trolls that find you annoying but for some reason still help you move hives and get set up on the darknet. You suppose that’s sort of like friendship. But it makes things easy on you. You don’t have to worry who you’re leaving behind this time.

> Lukasz: Swaddle up in your hoodie like a lonely bug with nothing to lose.

Waaaaaaaaay ahead of you.

Those trolls who took your lusus won’t know what hit them.

 

You don’t know what hits you. Mainly because you aren’t immediately certain that anything has.

You look down. No, yeah, that happened.


> Moments in the past, but not many...


Being a mob kingpin is hard. It’s hard, and anybody who’s ever tried to keep any number of trolls organized and working together for any length of time can understand.

When you get back to your officeblock in your secret base, you settle in for a night of paperwork and teleconferencing with your captains. It’s not very glamourous, but it needs to get done. Even illegal businesses have logistical needs.

You are about to affix a very large and stylishly loopy signature in indigo ink that could be your blood, but isn’t, because that shit would be gross, onto a requisition approval form when someone starts pounding at your office door. No one does that unless it’s an emergency. Actually, no one has ever done that even in an emergency, because you always answer your text messages promptly and frankly your people are much more civilized than this.

You get up and rush to the door, yanking it open in a spike of near-panic.

 

It is surprisingly easy to track down the Kingpin.

Like, you knew from the start that this wouldn't be hard. Adult highblood, tacky suit, yadda yadda. Even considering that, it did not take you long to find a troll who could put a smug name to the equally smug face. His secret base leaves much to be desired. If you were in charge of an illegal underground troll mafia, you would at least try to steal some throw rugs or something. Also, you would actually keep it a fucking secret.

You really don't expect the security troll to let you in. You're obviously an outsider with a chip on your shoulder and a grudge against her boss, but after a surreptitious glance at the other guards she leans down to your aural sponge and whispers the directions to the Kingpin's office. Or to the toothbeast pit where they lead all such angry outsiders. One of the two. At this point you don't really care which it is.

This is the troll who kidnapped--who hurt--your lusus. This is the troll who had her spirited away, all scared and alone and who maybe has done even worse things to her in the tilts it took you to track him down and if he has you'll never forgive yourself because you should have been faster, should have been better, should have been there--

You pound on the door. Loudly. Hard. Over and over. You will make this troll face you. He is going to know who it is whose lusus it was he took tonight. He will see his own blood.

You tackle the adult the second he opens the door.


Oof.

That guy is built like a fucking thermal hull.

 

Isn't this one of the kids from Kezria's shop?

"What the fuck are you doing?"

 

Okay. Setback. You can still swing this.

What you cannot swing is the mace you brought with you. It lies uselessly on the ground next to you. In retrospect, a really fucking bad call.

So you try punching the Kingpin. You think it works. You're not exactly much of a puncher, but it doesn't look like he's altogether used to being punched. You may be able to win this bout with the element of surprise.

You punctuate your punches with loud, angry yells, and are pleased to note you have managed to keep from tearing up (yet). "YOU! TOOK! MY! LUSUS!"

 

Okay, first of all, this hitting shit is annoying. You pick the kid up by the scruff of their hoodie and hold them at eye height.

"I did not take your lusus. I have no idea who you are or what your lusus is, nor do I care. I also don't even particularly care why you're blaming me, because quite frankly I have shit to do and this isn't it."

You have a thought.

"There's a lusus-napping ring southeast of the forest. They probably did it." You have no idea if they did. It's within the realm of possibility. But more importantly, it'll get this kid out of your hair. "I don't have a good business reason to take your lusus. They do. Go bother them."

You dump the kid on the floor.

 

The adult grabs your hoodie and your blood pusher catches in your throat. You barely hear a word as he tells you it wasn't him who grabbed your lusus. You're too busy trying to shrink inside your hoodie. The hoodie the troll is grabbing. You can't...you can't get out.

He says something about a lusus-napping ring in the southeast. That he doesn't have a business reason to take Papillona. Well that's--that's not entirely correct, is it? You haven't exactly put a lot of thought into it, but if someone knew--they might be interested. But that's only if this Kingpin knows. He hasn't acted like it. Hasn't mentioned. You don't know what to think.

He finally releases his grip, drops you on the floor. Your hoodie is still rumpled where he was holding it. You choke back a sob.

It can't be true. What he said. He has to be the one who took her. If he's not--you have no clues. You have no options. You'll never see your beloved lusus again.

You pull yourself up with the edge of a table. Your fingers close on a familiar shape. You promised yourself you wouldn't use this. Not after the incident. But there are certain advantages of having a second strife specibus.

You take the nail file and dig the pointy part into the squishiest part of the Kingpin you can reach.

 

Ah, fuck. "OW!"

You stagger back, more from surprise than injury, a hand tight to the wound in your side. Indigo soaks into the fabric of your suit, ruining it.

You lunge forward, grab the kid by their wrists, and yank them back up into the air. For a moment of pure instinct, all you can do is snarl. Then you manage to wrestle some logic past the highblood rage.

You drag them back behind your desk and shove their face into the report one of your captains assembled about the lusus-nappers. "Look, motherfucker. I SAID LOOK! This look like shit I'm in charge of right now?" You shake them for emphasis. "I didn't take your motherfucking lusus. I don't have time for this shit. So unless you want your useless ass tossed out my fucking window, offer up what use you'd be at stopping them. I've got a team going after them - yeah, that's right, a motherfucking team to stop it. That sound like the work of a troll who took your parent?"

You storm over to the window, swinging the kid around violently with your momentum. "Skills, fucker - last chance."

 

Okay. That maybe did not go the way you planned it. Not that you actually had a plan but. If you did, it would involve less being dangled by a window.

You didn't exactly get a good look at that piece of paper the Kingpin shoved your face into. Kind of a side effect of getting violently grabbed by a raging highblood. Not sure if he thought that part through. But, it kind of looked like some kind of report? About something? Again, didn't get a good look.

He's said something about a team going after the lusus-nappers, though. You don't trust this troll as far as he can throw you, but if he's telling the truth this team may be your best chance of ever getting Papillona back.

So you ignore your pounding terror, the window at your back, and the pain in your wrists and look the highblood straight in the eye. "I got in here, didn't I? I'm determined, I'm angry, and there's nothing anyone can do to hurt me anymore. Those fuckers took my lusus, and no matter what they throw at me, I will get her back. So if you've got a team, I want in."

 

Well, you do believe they have a point.

You drop them safely inside of the window and return to your desk to grab a bandaid from your medkit to patch the stab wound with. "Go to Kezria, she's running it."

You glance back at them before you start pulling clothes off. "Now GET OUT."

 

==>Be Iglora

Iglora is too busy right now. Try again later.

==>Try again now.

What part of too busy didn't you understand?

==> Be insistent

Fine!

==> Be Iglora

Your name is IGLORA HENIST and you are DIGGING A HOLE.

Digging holes isn't your usual thing, no. But sometimes the corpses you deposit in the woods around your hive ATTRACT DANGEROUS PREDATORS, and it's better to just make traps for them instead of letting them EAT YOUR PAPA'S THRALLS. Even if you would much prefer the latter option.

You really aren't built for this kind of labor. You're meant to be WRITING AND ANALYZING IMPERIALIST PROPAGANDA, which is something you are extremely fascinated with. You also enjoy LIVING ALONE, which is basically impossible, considering what your lusus is, but you're only occasionally violent about it, which is saying something. You wouldn't trade your lusus for anything, though - INCUBUSDAD is older than most highbloods, and so tells the most amazing stories. Some trolls think that you're a scholar in ANCIENT ALTERNIAN, but it was really your first language, because that's the only one your Papa knows.

Your trolltag is insidiousHuldra and you insist that you 6arely have an accent at all, no matter what your moirail says.

==> Iglora: Finish building trap

You're finally finished digging this pit. You throw your shovel out first, then jump for the edge and pull yourself out. You're panting, but you don't really feel like staying out here any longer than you need to. "Gleaming fangs of the dragon erupting from the earth," you gasp. It's not your best work, but your METAPHOR MODUS flashes and deposits large steel spikes across the bottom of the pit just as you'd wanted it to, all of them pointed up. "You walked Alternia and now walk the shadows of death, leaving an abused husk behind." Your modus flashes again, and the corpse of the yellowblooded thrall you'd killed last night drops into the pit with a wet thud. You take a deep breath and don't look down. "Treacherous ground in the night, laying in wait to betray soft animal paws..." You struggle for another phrase, but your modus takes pity on you and spits out the fragile cover you'd made. You push yourself to your feet and check the edges, blending leaves and more ground cover over them so the tarp is completely hidden.

==> Iglora: Check your messages already

Constantly coming up with metaphors for computer glasses is just exhausting, so you've taken to just putting them in your pocket when you aren't wearing them. You take them out now and put them on. The interface in the corner flashes with a message from Kezria, but you ignore it for now. Just because you haven't seen anything dangerous running around today doesn't mean it isn't out there. You check the time. If you get back soon, you'll have a couple of hours to clean off the dirt and relax before your Papa drags you off into the city to enthrall another lowblood with his weird combination of pheromones and psychic nonsense. You reach for your strife specibi, ignore the FISTKIND and 2XKNIFEKIND you've taken from dead trolls, reach behind it for your favorite. The wood of your STAFFKIND SPECIBUS slams solidly into your hand. Sure, it's a weapon, but you think it'll consent to being used as a walking staff for now as you set out for your hive.

 

Your name is ASTROH DYNNAM and HELL YEAH YOU FEEL LIKE FUCKING UP A LUSUSNAPPING/SMUGGLING RING. Also aiding your FRIEND. You know it's for a good cause if Kezria's asking. Probably a bunch of highbloods fucking up lowbloods' lives for shits and giggles. It makes you sick to think about, your guts churning up in anxiety, so you cross the mess of STUFF that is your respiteblock and snuggle the mess of WHITE FUR that is your lusus, COLLIEMOM. She licks you. It's very comforting.

But enough of that, you have work to do! You dig around your mess, stashing electrical weaponry and other gadgets you think might be useful into your very practical HASHMAP MODUS. Colliemom pushes a package of food into your chest, so you add that, too. And the second one she foists on you. Before she can pick up a third you take the hint and go ration up in your nutritionblock. Mom wags her tail.

You can't think of anything else to pack, and your mom isn't pushing anything else at you, so you're probably good.

You head towards the door, and she barks. What now? You turn to see her dragging the riding harness you built for her towards you. "No, Mom. Too dangerous. Going after lususnappers." You try to walk away, but she cuts in front of you, circling like a furry whirlpool, herding you back to the gear.

"Mom!"

She pins her ears back.

Sigh. There's just no reasoning with her when she's in a mood like this.

"Fine. But need to be ready to run. When I say. For own good."

You skritch her ears, then saddle her up.

 

Your name is Keeler Altair and you are STALLING for TIME.

You've already packed everything you could possibly need in the spaces of your Battleship fetch modus that you haven't already weaponized. You've cleaned up your hive, you've disposed of all perishables, you've even shut down most of your electronics. You can't remember when the last time you shut down your husktop was.
You know you're forgetting something, you forget something every time you leave your hive. What have you forgotten this time?

Weapons? No, you've got your Screwdriver of Unusual Size, your Telescoping Screwdriver of Menkab, and your three Pocket Sized Screwdrivers hidden in various places around your body. (Okay, they're hanging off your horns. They may not be particularly hidden, but those hooks you drilled in are just so convenient.)

Food? Nope, you've packed everything that will keep.

Towel? No, that was the first thing you packed. No good adventurer would go out in public without their trusty towel, as your favorite book series would have you believe.

Trowel? What? Why would you need a trowel? Why would you even have a trowel to begin with? Plants are definitely not your strong suit, and plants that you put there on purpose? Terrifying.

>Enough nonsense.

You sigh and square your shoulders. Time to head out.