Ustuck: Get Recruited by Troll Mafia [Closed RP]

'Most likely'. That's not an answer. Nobody's willing to give you answers.

You take your hands off the oliveblood's table and shove them back in your hoodie. "Fine." You glance over at the fetch moduses she mentioned; all out of your price range. "I guess we should go talk to this guy, Keeler. Let's..." You trail off.

Across the way, a brownblood walks out of ramshackle store with boarded-up windows. You'd know she was a brownblood even if you couldn't see her sign because she's bleeding through the bandages on her arm. Or at least, what's left of her arm. Right now it's a stump that cuts off just over the elbow.

You throw out your hand to grab Keeler's attention, eyes not leaving the brownblood as she heads into the crowd. "That's the brownblood who took my lusus."

 

Well! That was quick! And you didn't even have to go find the meat store. Unfortunately for you, brown isn't exactly an uncommon blood color.

"The one-armed one or the one with the broken horns?"

 

"The one with the arm," you spit. "There."

You point her out, then start running. Keeler can keep up.

Somehow, the trolls in the marketplace don't seem to instinctively understand how urgent it is that they immediately get out of your way. You can't go five steps without someone bumping, or shoving, or sending you an imperious highblood glare. "Move!" you snap at whoever gets close enough to touch you heedless of caste, size, and the likeliness they can pound you into a fine paste with a single blow. She's your only lead, and she's getting away.

 

Oh boy, a chase scene! You're excited! You're pumped! You're...going to have to stop apologizing to everyone you bump into. Even...even the highbloods. This is more important. Probably. Possibly?

Well, if you don't catch this brownblood, you'll be angering an even higher blood than that tealblood you just knocked over. And not just any highblood, an adult highblood. With a criminal empire. Who is also your employer. Yeah, you definitely can't afford to get him riled up. You'll have to settle for just mentally apologizing. Maybe one of them is psychic or something.

==>

You haven't been running for long before you realize: she is fast. You are not. There's got to be a better way to go about this.

>Keeler: Stop her.

You lift a nearby stand in a burst of psionic energy, and are about to hurl it brownblood-ward, when you realize the shopkeeper is still inside. You carefully remove them and gently float them down to the ground before turning around and dropping the stand directly in the path of your quarry. You hope this wrecked her desire to flee. You're pretty sure it definitely wrecked whatever that troll was selling.

 

You hear, rather than see, your companion throw a fruit stand at the brownblood you're chasing. There's just a flash of red and blue and then a wooden cart explodes into splinters in front of the brownblood. For a moment, she stops and stares at the cart, before turning back and sweeping her eyes over the crowd.

You're not sure if she recognizes you. But it doesn't take her long to decide to vault over the remains of the fruit stand and break out into an all-out run. That graceful bitch.

You turn back to Keeler. "Now look what you've done!" you shout. You're not the only one yelling; the mustardblood whose stand got pulverized looks pretty angry, and the crowd does not seem happy about wanton psionics.

 

Your companion is clearly not taking advantage of the delay you handed to him, as he is now facing in exactly the wrong direction to continue chasing.

Time for plan B.

You gather your psionics again, this time lifting yourself above the horns of the crowd, and propel yourself headlong after the fleeing brownblood. You spare a thought for Lukasz, but you're sure it'll be way easier for him to follow the only troll in the air right now then one of a huge crowd on the ground. And, once you've restrained the brownblood, you can also bring her back to him for interrogation if he hasn't caught up by then. He'll be fine.

 

You are not going to be fine. There is a huge crowd in between you and your target and they are angry. And thanks to your outburst and the oliveblood talking to the other shopkeepers, they know you're with the psionic who just lobbed a cart into a crowded walkway. Even for a troll marketplace, that's kind of considered bad form.

Meanwhile, you can see the brownblood disappear into a back alley. Your pusher nearly stops and you hope Keeler's supposed psionic prowess is enough to help her keep pace. You pull your mace out of it specibus, but you know you won't be able to catch up.

The mustard shopkeeper pushes to the front of the crowd. Yeah, he does not look happy. A quick glance tells you there's nowhere to hide, even with your hoodie set to Full Swaddle. So you dig in your heels and remember that your lusus is on the line here.

 

The brownblood is fast, but you're faster. Not a lot faster, though, she's really fast.

You do gain on her though, and it's enough that when she scoots around a corner, you're able to follow her closely enough to not lose her in the twisting warren of alleyways that seem to exist only to frustrate your pursuit. Honestly, the layout of the buildings looked logical enough from the street, there's really no reason for all these alleys to exist back here. The only good thing about this layout is the abundance of obstacles that you can keep throwing in her way to slow her down.

You wonder briefly if she could be leading you into a trap, and speed up as best you can to get her in range so you can grab her with your psionics before she can try anything.

>Keeler: Be the shopkeeper.

Your name is Deejon Dheneb and you are FUCKING PISSED.

First some bureaucratic asshole won't accept your permit and charges you extra for a new one. Then, once you finally get yourself set up for the night, some fuckface flings you and your stall into the air, and while you somehow manage to get put down before you get thrown to your death, your stand isn't so lucky. To cap it off, she launches into the air and flies off, leaving your wrecked stand and ruined fruit strewn on the street. Now the fuckface's pal is standing there with a blank expression on his face and a mace in his hand and you are going. To get. Answers.

"What the fuck. Is going on here."

 

You look the shoptroll square in the eye.

"A troll took my lusus," you say. Keeler already told the other troll, there's no point hiding it anymore. "I'm getting her back. Now get out of my way."

> ==>

The brownblood pulls out a nunchuk from her strife specibus with her remaining arm and slams it into the ground, breaking the pavement into chunks. With an acrobatic fucking pirouette, she lifts a chunk with her foot and launches it at the flying psionic.

 

You can't help but marvel at her agility, but you still reach out with your mind and grab the rock from midair, before lowering both it and yourself to the ground. You move some waste receptacles to block off any potential escapes and decaptchalogue your telescoping screwdriver, which you shake out to its full length.

"Don't make me hurt you. I just have some questions."

==>

"That. Is the worst fucking explanation I have ever heard." A troll took his lusus? Fine, someone else is having a bad night too. That doesn't give him the right to tear down the street and destroy others' livelihoods.

You take a step closer to him and brandish your knives, and the crowd follows your lead.

 

Wow that is a lot of pointy things. You take a step back before you remember that's a sign of weakness and you're pretty sure mobs can smell fear. Or is that huntbeasts?

"Look," you tell him, "there's a brownblood over there who stole my lusus, and probably a lot of other people's, and we're trying to stop her. I didn't know Keeler was going to wreck your cart, I just met her and she's weird. The only reason I'm even working with her is to get my mom back. I--" You look to the crowd. Maybe it's a little late to be information-gathering, but if this is where the lususnappers have been operating then you can't be the only one here desperately missing a parent. "Has anyone else's lusus gone missing? That brownblood, the one with only one arm--she's working with the people taking them! She knows where they are. Please, you can't just stand here and let her get away!"

> ==>

The brownblood clutches at her severed arm and chuckles. "I'm not sure how you think you can hurt me more at this point," she mutters, glancing around for avenues of escape. "...Fine," she finally says. "What do you want to know, goldblood? Maybe we can be useful to each other."

 

You glare at her suspiciously.
"What do you mean by that? Who are you working for? Why did you take my friend's lusus? Also I guess what's your name?"
Darn it! You always forget to ask that one first.

==>

Your response is cut off by a scattering of trolls agreeing with him. You hear mutters of surprise, that this had happened at all, that this had happened to anyone else, and in a few cases, that their lusus might still be alive and not dead like everyone had assumed.

Well. That was unexpected. What kind of mob leader would you be if you did the irresponsible thing and didn't allow this kid the opportunity to help? A really bad one, probably. Not that you've ever led a mob before.

"That's a much better explanation. However, there is the matter of my destroyed cart and produce..."

 

You fight the urge to let out a frustrated scream. "I don't know! I'll find someone to pay for it, okay?" You don't know about Keeler, but Kezria's got a job, she's got to have some money, and Iglora's pretty high on the hemospectrum. Plus, you're working for the Kingpin, technically? Surely he's got to be willing to pay for one ruined cart in exchange for whatever stake he has in stopping these lususnappers.

You go back to addressing the crowd. "Now listen up!" You've never talked to a crowd this big before. Before tonight, you'd barely talked to anyone besides Papillona in sweeps. But somehow it works. Your voice carries and you can't even hear your lisp. You feel--you feel strong. "My mother is missing and I'm getting her back. Either help me, or move."

> ==>

"I mean a fucking butterfly tore off my arm yesternight and they don't sell good painkillers to lowbloods," the brownblood says. "Your 'friend' tell you about that? Did you even think to ask what her mother did before hunting me down?" She smirks. "Then again, I suppose you're not the brightest bulb if you think you can be friends with a highblood."

"Look, I don't know what she's got on you, but my people would be happy to help a talented goldblood like you. Psionics are always useful to have around. And we have plenty of resources, ones that can help you avoid that nasty fate awaiting you on Ascension. I mean, you can't honestly tell me you're looking forward to the night the imperial drones show up at your hive to graft your ass to a spaceship?"

 

You honestly can't remember if Lukasz ever mentioned that his lusus was a butterfly before. Eh. It probably came up at one point or another. After all, who else's lusus could it be? But something's niggling at you.

"What do you mean, what his lusus did? What do you mean, highblood? None of what you're saying makes any sense! I don't know who 'your people' are, I still don't know who you are, and I really don't know what you mean about Ascension!"

You realize the air around you is crackling, and you don't know if it's dying down from the chase earlier, or ramping up because of your emotions.

"And, yes, for your information, I am looking forward to that night! I've spent my whole life preparing for when I can finally get off this stupid planet and get rid of this miserable flesh body that's dragging me down and become the spaceship I've been dreaming of since I learned what one was! Maybe you can't understand because you're too jaded have any dreams but I do!"

==>

Across from you, the crowd begins to open up along the street that the flying troll took.

"Not so fast." You hand the troll your contact information. "Make sure someone contacts me about the reimbursement by the end of the night. Trust me, if you don't I can make you regret it."

You give one more glare for good measure.

"Now go on, go help your friend."

 

You take the card. Maybe Kezria can use it? "She's not my friend, but I can understand the confusion."

It doesn't look like anyone's leaping to help you. Seriously, nobody? And here you thought you were doing a good job being inspiring. You start running in the direction Keeler went. Whatever, you cleared a path somehow. You'll find a way to handle the brownblood when you get there.

> ==>

"Jaded?" The brownblood snorts. "Of course I'm jaded, that's what this planet does. Lowbloods like us are given nothing while highbloods have the world handed to them on a platter! But hey, if you've bought what they're selling, it's no skin off my smell gaper. Any trolls as feeble-minded as you don't deserve to be a part of the new rule. Tell your friend her lusus is in better hands."

In a flash, the end of her nunchuk is spinning and she charges. A vicious blow lands, the weapon passing straight through the building psionic aura with a hard crunch.

 

You stagger, blinded for a moment by the pain, and you feel the warm blood dripping down your face. By the time your vision clears, the brownblood is already running back down the alley the way you came in.

Fuck! That really hurt. You start after her on foot, not sure you trust your psionic powers to keep you afloat right now, and manage to run headlong into a familiar figure.

 

Oh, come on!

You tumble to the ground, nearly managing to gore yourself on one of Keeler's massive horns. The brownblood is nowhere in sight.

"You let her get away?!" You bare your rounded teeth, about to unleash all your frustration on this useless psionic who can't even keep an injured brownblood occupied long enough for you to get there and--holy shit Keeler's bleeding.

It's a nasty gash, oozing blood down her face that falls in large, gold drops to the ground. That brownblood hurt her. Just like she hurt Papillona.

"...Are you okay?" you ask, quiet. "I have bandages you could use." You can get more later. That wound looks serious.

 

"I'm fine! Did you see which way she went?"

Didn't she run past Lukasz on his way in? You shake your head, trying to remember how the alleys intersected. The pain spikes again. That was probably a Bad Idea.

You don't see her anymore and you didn't even manage to get her name. Now what are you supposed to do?

 

"Hey." Don't think you didn't notice the wince Keeler made when she shook her head. A head injury was never a good thing, and at the very least they needed to stop the bleeding before it got worse.

Besides, you recognize this sort of behavior. It's the same way you get sometimes, when your thinkpan can only see one solution and you're so consumed you can't even stop to realize when you're hurting yourself. Papillona's the one who usually stops you when you get that way. Maybe Keeler's lusus does the same thing for her, but right now there's nobody here but you.

You spare a moment to glance longingly down the alleyway the one-armed brownblood probably followed. She's your closest lead to your lusus. The only one you've seen who might know where she is. But Keeler's wounded. "Hold still. I'm fixing you up." You pull the bandages out of your bag. Papillona would understand.

 

==> Iglora: Investigate

The North Shore isn't exactly your favorite place. To be honest, nowhere in the city is your favorite place, exactly, but the North Shore probably wouldn't make the top ten. It's grimy, full of shipping warehouses, factories, and, most importantly, the bars that their workers frequent. Not that the area isn't also residential - it most certainly is, lowbloods living piled on top of each other in cramped, rugged apartments. The rates of violent crime here was staggeringly high, rustbloods shortening each other's already rather short lifespans when they turn their rage on each other instead of letting it out harmlessly. It's, in short, claustrophobic.

You wouldn't be surprised to find that the Empire itself has engineered areas like this. If the lowbloods are at each other's necks all the time, they won't have time to contemplate rebellion. Instead, they'll just passively absorb the information and the attitudes that the Empire wants them to have.

As you walk through the streets, you suddenly wish you'd chosen to go hemononymous in this area. It's clear that many of the natives aren't used to or actively dislike highbloods, judging by the stinkeye they give you as you pass by. Not that you're that high up the spectrum, but you're suddenly aware of how dark your blue really is. You try not to slouch, keeping your chin up and thus your horns back.

You shift a little closer to Kezria on the street, taking her elbow again. "Where do you think we should go first, to look for these guys?" you ask, as you pass a bar that's already opening for the day.