Bugman

Firefly - Second 'Verse

At last disembarking the vessel, Elias couldn’t for a moment deny that the world felt good. The sun hit right in the way that he knew would give his skin a pleasant tan, the air had enough brine and humidity to let one know the sea was always near without makings ones nostrils stuffed with moisture or salination. But as he stared at the tropics through the gap in his facewrap, two facts quickly became apparent to him. First, he certainly wouldn’t be able to enjoy it in a meaningful way. Muscular lifeguards with gelled hair would force him off of any of the beaches that weren’t covered with trash, and even if they didn’t his form in swimshorts would still lead to mothers hastily leading children away shortly after the sound of screams and tears with the occasional threat from other people. The second of course, was that the world wasn’t so great. A person he took and educated guess was homeless was wandering and screaming about the krill being a scam, while parts of the first street he stepped on smelled like urine. “What a shithole.” he muttered, or at least made vague mouth movements with that goal that materialized no sound.

Strolling down the street, he was long used to the looks he was getting. People in crocs and flipflops saw a massive man in flannels and a balaclava on a tropical world like this, what the hell else were they supposed to think? No Elias had long since given up on any frustration with such public admonitions of his state. He knew some other people with mutilations always complained about how they were treated, but as far as he was concerned if you were a freak you ought be treated as one. It was unfortunate, but it was a reality he figured a lot would be better off accepting.

Unfortunately, he was about to have this stoic philosophy tested.

His wounds started to itch ever so slightly as salty sweat started to seep into the scars as he went about the city, following maps to find the nearest bank. The moment he stepped into it, a security guard instantly drew his service weapon and started screaming for the man to get down on the ground. Muffled sounds came from Elias, the man desperately trying to give hand signs in the hope he knew was vain the man would know sign language to state he was not in fact, a robber. It was at the gesture of criminal that he felt the harpooning penetration of a tase in his black. The shock was an excruciating and debilitating pain that brought him to a knee. But, it was also absolutely nothing compared to the pains that the reavers brought upon him. When at last the shock wore off, he tore it out and stood up with his hands upraised. The guards now approached him, the one that had shot him with a taser from behind patting him down whilst the one in front held his firearm pointed. As he was patted down, the taser guard found almost nothing but a little pocket-sand on him, and quizzically shared the information to his partner.

“Who the hell are you?”

Elias reached down to try and get his piece of blackboard, but the guns were raised again leading to the man simply sighing. As far as he saw there was no exit out of this situation he could take, so he waited until they were annoyed enough to take him to the small on-site jail of the bank and called police. Sighing yet again, he at last raised his hands and with one motion pulled the wrappings off of his face revealing the horrid mutilation. “I hahn hah.” he said, doing his best to articulate that he couldn’t talk with no tongue. As if to demonstrate he opened his mouth wide and revealed the distinct lack of one. “Jesus fucking….” one of them started, recoiling in horror. “Shit, I’da thought you wouldn’t be able to hear like that either the other said.

With some annoyance Elias carefully raised the cloth again to his face, cocking his head to ask for permission to make the quite sudden movements to cover himself up again. “Yeah yeah.” the taser bearing man said, holstering the device.

“What the hell is up with you?” the man still holding the pistol said. This time however, Elias reached down to the blackboard without interruption and wrote upon it the words: “I WAS HOPING TO ACCESS AND OLD BANK ACCOUNT. I CANT TALK AND COVER MYSELF UP TO NOT FRIGHTEN FOLK.”

“Well why the hell didn’t you bring any ID?” the gun bearing man said, slowly lowering the weapon as he relaxed.

After a brief spat with erasing, Elias revealed new words. “DONT HAVE ANY. WAS STOLEN.”

The guards exchanged glances before giggling. “No ID? You’re probably not going to get far with that.”

The piece of chalk in Elias’s hand turned entirely into dust as an outlet for his frustrations.

“PLEASE HELP ME.” he wrote.

With a sigh, one of the guards said “Alright, I guess I can take you to a manager. Special case or whatever. Jed get Sal down here to cover for me.”

“Roger-roger.” the other guard said, as Elias was lead to an office. After a brief explanation to the manager, the old man in a suit clasped his hands. “Oh. I see, most peculiar. Erm… can you tell me a name so we can try accessing your account?”

“ELIAS SAMIR RIEMEN.”

“Thank you….” the main trailed off, typing the words into his computer. “Uh… could you please?” the manager said, motioning to Elias’s mask, while turning the screen. “You see I need to try to verify its you.”

“Fuh.” Elias muttered. He knew he looked nothing like his pretty face all those years ago. Well, pretty was a stretch by far. But certainly it was compared to this day!

“Ugh….” the manager said, staring at Elias’s grievous damage. “Does… does it hurt?” he said, clearly mesmerized and distracted from his work. Elias simply gave him a furious stare, wasting another few cents of chalk that turned to powder in his grasp.

“Right, umm, sorry, you look nothing like this picture. Now, hold on.” he said, pressing a few keys that made a camera emerge from the desk. A painful flashed briefly blinded Elias, who looked furiously at the manager.

“Oh, my apologies.” the man said. “Forgot to ask for consent and all that. Regardless, let’s see here….” he said, the monitor of his computer displaying that a quick cross-reference of modern and old Elias’s visages was happening.

“Hmmm… its a possible match but…. Do you happen to remember a password?” he said, turning the computer around.

Thankfully, Elias remembered it. Unfortunately, though briefly the screen displayed acceptance, he was shortly after informed on the screen it was outdated and would need other verification. He planted his face down onto the keyboard, severely of the keys crunching under the force. He knew this was just the start of it, he just knew.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

GREATER DALARANI DIPLOMATIC PARTY

Looking between each other at the mention of Alterac, the exchanged glances of the wizards were accompanied that words that were left unsaid. Of course, with magic involved they didn’t have to be involved in the slightest. Indeed, though it was only the council of six that had projected themselves to the council the wizards were broadcasting their words, thoughts and vision and hearing alike to a great assembly of the Kirin Tor. To the hundreds of wizards furiously scribbling notes in tomes, the image of the future presented by the Scarlet Crusaders wasn’t one they could exactly see eye to eye with. Moreover, Alterac wasn’t theirs to give. Though the Strompikes would be considered equal partners in the construction of a new Alterac, the fate of the ruined Kingdom would be decided by a very different set of people to those present. However, it certainly wasn’t an issue they would be voicing here.

Attentions at this point however, were now somewhat divided. While Antonidas and a few of those with him were focused on a haughty game of geopolitics that was being constructed, the Prince Kael’Thas had other things on his mind. The non-attendance of his father had removed about a third of the reason for him to be here in person as opposed to the rest of the illusory wizardry, but with his duties satisfied there was one remaining reason to be here.

Her.

It was the first meeting they had since the events of the war parted them some time ago, but here they were. Kael had thought long and hard on how this reunion would be, and to an attentive eye it was quite clear. For one he had managed his aesthetics to look more like the human that in his eyes had usurped him. Though both blond, tall, and conventionally attractive in their own respective ways Kael’Thas had nonetheless made some changes to look more like Arthas. His eyebrows were trimmed to still be far shorter than what most High Elves wore; while still inhumanly long, they were managed to be less than a foot in length. His hair was let more free than the previously well combed arrangement, while the slightest bit of stubble was allowed upon his face. But perhaps most importantly (and certainly most surprisingly) was that he was willing to perform some measure of introspection rather than merely attending to aesthetics. Though still moody, and bearing the arrogance characteristic of both Dalaran’s and Silvermoon’s cultures, he still managed to actually look at everyone present, rather than down upon them.

I wish to meet you later. were the words he projected upon Jaina, looking at the rest of the scene to not hint at the private messaging to anybody else.

Still, as the subject touched Quel’Thalas and continued on the affairs of the future different groups within the Dalarani delegation awaited a chance to speak once more until the King of Gilneas entered the room. Among the six reactions varied to the doors being thrown so suddenly.

“Why bother knocking if you’re going to open the doors like that anyway? So rude.”
“Is that supposed to be intimidating?”
“Does he have fleas? Hope none of the little buggers fall off.”
“I bet he’s all wolfed up to hide a receding hairline. That's why men from Dalaran are better you know, we don't go bald!”
“Wonder if he lifts a leg to piss or does it like a person.”

Among other assorted mutterings came from the delegation. But ultimately on all their behalfs Antonidas gave a polite nod amidst puffs of his pipe. “Genn. Good to see you. And… Sir Crowley.” he concluded after a brief consultation with a tome materialized in a flick.

“Yes, indeed, my dearest student speaks wisely.” Antonidas went on, concurring with Jaina’s statements. “The past and its contents hardly matter when the present is so pressing, and the future is all that matters. It's good to have consensus.” he said quite pointedly.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

The Violet Star

Dalaran's news, whether you like it or not!

The New Face of Dalaran
By Karlil Fedeen
Editorial
For a long time the subject of people of mixed heritage was one done in the dark, in whispers or hushed near orphanages. No, not that mixed heritage of Stormwinder and Kul’tiran or Lordaeronian and Dalarani.Of one and another race.

Half-Orcs and Half-Ogres have long existed as a quite unfortunate product of the racial derelictions of our extraterrestrial assailants. Shunned, they usually live lives as bandits or slaves for the more savage part of their ancestry. But almost since the first days of the contact of our peoples, humans and elves have had a poorly kept secret in our reproductive compatibility. At best the topic makes folk blush. At worst it is a shame upon a family regardless of if their ears are soft or pointed. For a long time now such people have usually spent the first stages of their lives in orphanages in Quel’Thalas or across Lordaeron. But though they were rare, within Dalaran has been an exception to this fact. For reasons too many to list, Dalaran has had better relations with Elfdom than the rest of mankind. The shared penchant for magic, study, and high culture has had men (and indeed, even dwarves and gnomes!) of Dalaran to be said to be culturally closer to the Elves than to the many Kingdoms of humanity. Noteworthy is that Dalaran has had a personal alliance with the realm of Silvermoon ever since its foundation long before the separate nations of humanity decided to unite in the first iteration of “The Grand Alliance”. All of this is necessary background to understand matters to note within this article. For one, half-elves (or half-humans, if it better suits one’s prejudices….) have found more acceptance in Dalaran than anywhere else. A natural point of cosmopolitanism of human and elven interaction it is unsurprising that one will be the odd one out to be surprised at them, rather than a half elf him or herself.

Just as importantly, the total number of half-breeds is higher in Dalaran than anywhere else. It is estimated based on a sample size of more than five thousand birth certificates that almost an entire tenth of the population has mixed heritage. This leads to the inevitable third point: mixed race people have come to be a historically significant component to Dalaran. Of the tenth of the population of mixed heritage, it is estimated (admittedly more loosely) that there is an almost even split of half-breeds on being products of first generation admixture or of it being further in one’s lineage. Oftentimes people of mixed race will not have it in equal components, perhaps one parent being of solely one race whilst another being mixed. In some cases this is lost to time and folklore, leading to an educated guess that the share of people with at least some distinct racial heritage is actually heavily underestimated.

The population of those who identify with two racial heritages grows every year. Though still very far from being a majority let alone supermajority of the population, many projections across a century onwards have the share of mixed couples being as much as a half of Dalaran. To this, I, Karlil Fedeen, myself a product of two mixed race parents must posit a question:

Is Dalaran truly a human Kingdom? Or has it grown past being solely human? I wish not to denigrate the achievements of its human, elven, and yea dwarven and gnomish contributors of monoracial heritage over the many centuries of its existence. But to be bound by the concept of Dalaran as a Human Kingdom with a capital H seems outmoded. With half-elves as their face, it is time to consider a new Dalarani identity independent of humanity or elfdom, or indeed dwarven and gnomish kind as the borders of Greater Dalaran now stretch ever further beyond the magical walls of the Violet City. While the New Dalaranian will be a concept stronger than one race, they can be exemplified in people of mixed race. I believe all patriots of our nation can look forward to a New Dalarani Man.

Tragedy at Jonah's Creek
By Perry Kantor
Many know that the collapse of Lordaeron has collapsed the institutions that were located primarily within it. The Church of the Light was one such structure that found itself in pure chaos following the death of Terenas and the destruction of Lordaeronian statehood. In the absence of any ordained priests, people of Lordaeron and other territories kept on worship of the light. Yet in this new decentralized expression of religion, people still found yearning for some organization. With the arrival of Elven refugees to Metropolitan Dalaran, the people who needed spiritual guide found their man.

Arantir Skellen has been long criticized by many figures. It is claimed there is no record of any sort of ordination for him in Quel’Thalas to be a recognized minister, monk, priest, paladin, or any other position of the church of the light. Not having addressed these claims, his words have enraptured his human audience no less than his racial kinsmen. The efficacy of his preaching has been attributed to many factors. Perhaps one of the most significant is that he has not shied away from critique of the rulers that failed to rise to the occasion of the scourge. Speaking out against his own King in Silvermoon and human Kings alike he has even spoken out against the Magocracy that now hosts him and his followers. Though no official action has been taken directly against him, it is said that the Magocracy has taken arbitrarily (according to him) different treatment to Arantir and his followers with no reason stated for refusal to allow him space in advertisement in newspapers, refusal to provide lines of credit or, other such actions that bring accusations of discrimination.

Despite these quiet efforts to thwart the growth of his reach, it only expands. Not only does it expand, the words become more radical. This has inevitably come to a point of conflict of his followers and Dalarani authority.

Two days ago, seven people were lynched by his followers. While in a refugee camp on the border of Metropolitan Dalaran and Alterac, it is said he accused a group of people within the refugee camp of being followers of the scourge. Immediately, his followers bound these people in chains and threw them into a firepit.

The Violet Star has worked to establish the identities of these people.

Andreas Waldar is said to be a squire of the Scarlet Crusade. We could not establish who exactly his superior was.

Karina Hjelms however, was verified by Violet Star investigators as being a nun in the the order. Further details of her identity are not known.

Arpad Brown is stated to be a merchant. Originally a Lordaeroni who profited heavily on running caravans to Dalaran it is said he is of considerable repute with many clients in Dalaran and some remaining settlements of Lordaeron. However three months of his activity are notably unaccounted for, a fact that Arantir’s apologists have stated to be definite proof of his participation in the scourge’s efforts.

Draekto Goldbeam was noted as being a travelling wizard from Quel’Thalas, supposedly having arrived at the start of the war with the Scourge in Lordaeron to use his skills in the army of Lordaeron. The medals of his military decoration found in the ashes were deemed genuine, however they were too warped and stained by the flame to establish if they were truly belonging to him. The archives that could establish said medals validity or illegitimacy in relation to Goldbeam’s possession of them are also located deep in Scourge-held Lordaeron.

Unfortunately, two people’s names could not be gained however they were stated to be a couple that had arrived a day before the tragedy.

The Violet Star condemns any and all activity of extremists of the Church of the Light or followers of the Light outside of its structure. However, Violet Star staff further call for the citizens of Dalaran to not hold this event against all people of the Light’s faith. We call upon all peoples of Greater Dalaran to follow the rule of law and report any suspected Scourge activity to law enforcement officers.

Concerns of the Front(s)
By Ansaela Firegust
As Dalaranian troops press on in Alterac and Lordaeron alike, many doing the fighting have fears related to events in foreign policy. While soldiers understand there is a greater world than their battlefield, this hardly assuages their issues. The meeting with leadership of militaries of other states indicates to many that the Kirin Tor plan to divert resources to assistance in war for other powers. An anonymous rifleman of the 7th Dalaran Metropolitan Marksmen is quoted as saying "Why the [...] ought we fight for the Magocracy if the Magocracy won't fight for us?"

Several officials and spokespeople have stated that the Magical assistance on the existing combat zones of what is nebulously described as Greater Dalaran will not be reduced, and that any assistance that the Kirin Tor divert elsewhere will be matched by a quid-pro-quo in one form or another to ensure that the foreign aid is not just a sink for the localized interests of the territories under the Violet Banner.

The frontlines being widened seemingly only hardens concerns of soldiers. Fighting undead and orcs alike, most consider the land they plant their boots and banners upon to belong to them, their families, their nation absent any claims that may have existed historically.

It is indeed within and because of the failures in recent history, that most consider birthrights of auld annulled. After all, where is it said that the right of conquest only applies to the high-born? But today, heroes forge entirely new birthrights for you and me alike.

Alteraci Elections
By Dathral Faesprout
With the gradual advance of the Dalarani and allied forces in Alterac, the planning of an election over the rule of Alterac was publicly announced following a long period of rumour. For the moment, the “Provisional Electorate of Alterac” as it has been dubbed consists largely of selected bureacrats from Dalaran with a smattering of Stormpike and liberated local contributors. However this is said to be merely a brief construct to allow the transition into a more permanent governance. Elections are to be conducted within the territories held by Dalarani troops in Alterac. Eligibility for participation is provided unconditionally to anyone who has registered to be a permanent resident of Alterac. Four distinct groups are given permission for such a registration.

First are any with recognized refugee or displaced person status confirmed by Dalaran. Regardless of if they are from Lordaeron, the scourge infested territories of Gilneas or Quel’Thalas, and any other source, they will be considered legitimate settlers of Alterac and given the pre-citizenship documentation.

Second are any members of the Dalaran’s armed forces, governance, or charity groups who can be verified as having performed more than half of their service since the beginning of the Alterac campaign within the borders of Alterac. If they register for permanent resident of Alterac status they will be provided pre-citizenship papers and analogous positions within the new Alterac on the condition they will have their previous position within Dalaran revoked.

Third are any and all members of the Stormpike Expedition. Some have criticized this as many Dwarves who arrived as recently as a mere week ago and have not made any contributions to the growing Alterac territory will be given the same status as those who have fought for Alterac’s liberation since the war began. The leadership of Dalaran and Vanndar Stormpike have both declined to comment on this discrepancy.

Fourth, any and all people unrelated to the Perenolde family and Alteraci nobility who can prove that they were long-term residents or citizens of Alterac prior to the Kingdom’s dissolution as well as descendants of such people will be beneficiaries of the “sanguine rule” which will allow them to at any point receive permanent residence of the new Alterac as well as pre-citizenship documents.

A strong debate is being held by some on if such a status should be given to members of the Church of the Light assigned to minister to Alterac. While many state that critical spiritual needs are to be cared for by members of these people, the loudest proponents of these people receiving automatic residency and pre-citizenship papers are often not even present in Alterac as they suggest this. As it stands, the governance of Dalaran and the founders of The Provisional Electorate of Alterac believe that most of the necessary religious figures will already receive citizenship by already falling into one of the previous four categories.

For now the elections are to be limited to mayoralty of the liberated villages and townships currently stably behind the frontlines. However, elections for frontline settlements, as well the city of Alterac itself and Presidency of Alterac are already being drafted. Perhaps even more importantly, figures that will be upon a council to draft the constitution of Alterac are also to be elected.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Much had happened since Elias had found his fate intertwined with the China doll. He had gotten to know some of the crew, but the obvious communication barrier made this a slow and difficult practice. It was hard to establish trust when you needed a minute to exchange just a sentence. Still, at the very least he found that he wasn't catching sideways glances to make sure he wasn't doing anything afoul of the crew anymore.

His speech wasn't the only part of the estrangement from the crew. It was always so that people Elias came across either mentally slotted him into a gentle giant or a vicious goliath, with almost no room for anything in between these two extremes. Though they weren't at all rude about it, the impression the man got was that he was received as being somewhere along the lines of the latter. He didn't very much care for this, but he also understood it was on him to dispel this. In retrospect, he supposed he hadn't done that much to try and get a more reasonable interpretation of himself. He had spent a considerable amount of time on what he considered 'his job', tending to this and that within the ship's machinery. Much of his interaction with the crew was simply nodding to them as he walked by things upon the vessel and marked down information upon a clipboard. At the same time for whole days he wouldn't meet the rest of the crew, busy with his own devices. Socialization being difficult to say the least, he spent most of his free time alone. If and when someone came by to check up on him, he'd be lifting random objects in lieu of proper gym equipment, reading whatever books he could scrounge, or simply staring at walls and ceilings. He didn't want the others to see his personal projects, not while they weren't done and could be the subject of non-negligible embarrassment. There were many knick-knacks he was trying to make, but of course the most difficult was the fortepiano he was working on. The instrument was a rare luxury he greatly missed, and the half-finished one he had left behind when fleeing together with the religious folk was all the more painful to be gone.

But now that was all behind. In fact, they would be making planetfall soon. He hadn't been with the crew enough to yet feel comfortable asking the Captain for anything resembling payment to spend down on Pelorum. But he also had a habit of finding ways to make money. Maybe a quick fight in some idiot's ring, maybe a trip to an antique shop and fixing up an old clock for a geezer to double the value of the device and gain the split difference as a payday.

There was also the other matter. Slavery was not nice, and as much as Elias wanted to distance himself from the family he felt betrayed him, taking advantage of the blood relation to ensure he didn't succumb to such things again wasn't а negative. He absolutely needed to head to a bank to see if his accounts were still active. All these thoughts ran through his head quite fast as he sat on a box with his hands clasped together, staring at the blast-door of the cargo bay. Envy went through the man as his peripheral vision caught the university kids. School was the best damn time of his life. It all went downhill from there. He couldn't go on the beach with these little shits. In fact there was very little he could enjoy. His eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly as his mood soured. Well, maybe at least he could listen to some fine tunes. Surely there'd have to be some bastard that could do a good syncopation on a world like this.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

GREATER DALARANI DIPLOMATIC PARTY

After the Dwarves listed off their planned contributions to the war, a silence briefly overtook the room. One of the wizards pulled out a watch lazily before whispering to Antonidas. The old Magus groaned and shifted himself in his seat as the room very slowly started to fill with more and more smoke from the Dalarani delegation's pipeweed.

Antonidas began to rummage in his robes, one of the Council of Six in the meantime popping off to offer the Dwarven emissary some smoking too having heard on one of his many great lunchbreaks that the short folk were quite fond of smoking too. "'ere, its lovely stuff. Grimm's finest, if the merchant's to be believed." The fellow intoned, walking across the room not particularly caring for any decorum at the moment. As the errant Councillor returned to his seat, Antonidas at least procured what he was going to show to the rest of the envoys.

"Well, we too of course shall give what we can to beat back the scourge. Manpower's a bit lacking what with our other pressing concerns, but we shan't forget our commitment to the alliance." After the sentence, the old man glared briefly but meaningfully at the seat where Gilneans would take their seat when they arrived. "We have something far more valuable than a few swords to offer. Something that has been severely lacking in the war effort thus far. Intelligence!" he said, at last presenting a great big crystal ball, and setting the thing down on the table. As the wizards behind him began and failed to suppress guffaws at the perceived insult to the rest of the assembled representatives the Archmagus swiftly corrected himself. "Military intelligence. You see with such a contraption depending on particular example can see the movements and actions of the enemy as far as hundreds of kilometres away. It can find movements of the scourge's forces far faster and more accurately than any scout or watchtower. Nooks and crannies along roads can be preemptively checked for lurking gargoyles and banshees to prevent ambush. Strength of enemy forces in strongholds can be determined, so on and so forth. These aren't exactly easy to make but we'll be sending specialists bearing these beauties to the assembled armies to ensure we can provide a magical eye wheresoever it might be needed.

To demonstrate Antonidas pushed the ball to roll in the middle of the table, the magical sphere correcting its own path as it moved and stopping the moment it was in the centre. He reached out with his staff and struck it on the ball a few times. Eventually an image was produced. Where exactly this was it was hard to tell, but it showed perhaps thousands of ghouls, zombies, and necromancers tending to their fleshy army. With a few circles in the air over the ball, the image moved faster than the eye could keep track of to a location quite far away from the blighted assembly. There stood a skeleton archer, hiding amidst bushes on a road. Now a wave, and it moved again to a picket fence with alliance soldiers shouldering rifles aimed at approaching undead. Antonidas was about to speak, but now Modera whispered into his ear. He sighed, and moved aside slightly to allow the woman to wave her own stave over the ball. In the image, balls of ice fell from the suddenly turbulent clouds to hundreds of undead. Clearing his throat, Antonidas again took the spotlight of the Dalarani delegation. "Well, its an approximation of the great effort we will put in to help our united struggle against the evil the plagues the Eastern Kingdoms.

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: The Under - Ash Lake || The Soul Sanctum
Words Written: 1100
XP Gained: 2
Current XP: 7/10
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris, The Octopath Travellers @Yankee, Rubick @Scarifar

Powers Used: Guerilla Warfare

As the group collected itself, Teemo looked at the green pipe with some suspicion. "After you." He'd mumble to nobody in particular. The intent with it was clear to him, but its not like he was going to trust it right off the bat. He'd gone through similar things on the summoner's rift, but similar wasn't the same. Still, one by the party descended down it and eventually with an exasperated sigh he stood on the precipice over the tube's black abyss that seemed to be so much closer than that of any other bottomless pit. Still standing on the green edge, he turned and with a salute announced: "Bombs away!" before with a slight twist of his heels fell backwards and head first into the hole. Much to his personal annoyance, the physics defying nature ensured that rather than a graceful downwards glide his bulbous form simply spun through the void until he came out the other end.

When coming out the other end, the plunge into water was certainly unpleasant. While he could stomach getting his fur so thoroughly soaked, Teemo wasn't lying when he commented on his nautical skills before. Briefly bobbing up and down out of the water in a vain effort to keep his head above it and not drown, he knew cries for help would probably take a while to materialize any support. Thus it was that he took a little yordlish magic to blow into his pipe so that his breath coming out of it would propel him through the water like a jet stream. He wasn't anything resembling a caster, but all yorldes could do a little bit of magic and he could muster enough to not die here like a toddler left alone in a pool.

He did eventually make his way out, and in this new city he did find some solace. It was civilization experienced for the first time since Teemo had been forced into this world. Unfortunately, he had little in the way of money to spend herein. Still, he passed the time until the party once more rendezvous'd by going aroudn any shops with books and going through them as stealthily as he could to read the contents of whatever histories he could find without a shopkeep shooing him out at broom-point; a serious threat for any bookish yordle. Snacks were found in small bits of vermin that to Teemo were just delectable morsels, particularly when contrasted with stuff like dead worms he might have had to eat in the wilds on missions. Though the nature of his new life still confused the ancient furball, the many books his eyes touched at least gave him a better idea of what to be confused about. Progress! His ignorance was given direction, rather than being outright ignorance. Topped with Browser's impromptu if quite painful lesson, he felt eventually he'd really get the hang of it all and be a great hero of this place. Maybe, just maybe, he could even make his way home after all this. His cold heart was loathe to admit it, but he was feeling home sick. It was one thing to be hundreds of kilometres from bandle city. It was another in entirety to be not just in another universe, but in this place that was both a jail and a crossroads of universes. Truth be told, the fact this place broke a fourth wall didn't make Teemo feel any better as he slowly came to understand it. He wondered if somehow he would manage to make it back home, if things could in any way return to normalcy with all his knowledge and experiences received in the world of light. Probably not he reckoned. But a bunch of old guys (at least, for humans) with really big beards that did a lot of meditation told him change could be good. Besides, normal was always changing. He'd be alright the Captain told himself, even if a feeling gnawed at the back of his mind that he was just assuring himself now that he felt uncertain for the first time in his existence.

At last reunited with his new friends, their assembly as a party lead Teemo to encounter a lady that having petted him on the head crossed what was taboo for many yordles. Still, not exactly being in a position of privilege Teemo decided not rage like Kled or one of his other hyper-violent cousins might have. Instead he simply frowned deeply, and then even deeper when he was disappointed in his furry face failing to provide a truly negative expression. "Captain Teemo." he grumbled, introducing himself as curtly as he could.

With Nadia taking the lead, Teemo found that this place couldn't stop fascinating. While the personalities were all modulations on some sort of multiversal archetype he had already encountered in his home-setting, the vistas were truly something new. Even when crusty, musty and dusty they were still quite interesting (admittedly thanks in no small part to their visual styles being completely different to anything he had experienced before).

As Nadia lead them inside of the building, Teemo remarked "Fuck, I think that's bad guy music!" the first word bleeping itself out just like any other swear from the yordle before the syllable was finished. As they went inside, Teemo wasn't exactly happy with the first wave of enemies they got. They were small and ethereal making them difficult targets for marksmanship while Teemo's darts were not infinite. Or were they? Well, it didn't matter. These things weren't threatening enough to shoot and while a quite poor combatant in melee, he was confident enough in his companions that he simply bonked the little wisps on the face with his blowpipe when they got too close.

As they engage the patients, Teemo started to find himself getting annoyed at the puns. But, it also wasn't the time to start sorting out relations. Anyway, these new enemies were at last worthy of shooting. Thus he loaded of his blowpipe and aiming at their malformed heads let loose the projectiles. Much like Nadia he ran when he couldn't kill them on time. Unlike her however, he had the luxury that if his kiting brought him to a dead end where he couldn't escape them he could simply stand still and turn invisible to get rid of the aggro. It was in one such stealthy moment he witnessed the interaction with the horrible dog-like think to his astoundment, and in his invisibility he turned to watch the proceedings with fascination wondering what would come of it.

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: The Under - Ash Lake
Words Written: 632
XP Gained: 1
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris, Primrose @Yankee, Rubick @Scarifar

Powers Used: None

Teemo chuckled a little sardonically as the interaction between Asgore and Rubick, putting a gloved hand over his mouth in an ineffective effort to mask the sound; though not exactly kind, the high pitched giggles wouldn't betray any malice either. Teemo did sympathize with the strange fellow's tragedy, even if somewhat warily. In Runeterra there were any amount ruined Kingds, and from what he knew, most of them tended to be the sort who killed more people than your average volcanic eruption outside a city. Still, given that he seemed amiable enough the Yordle wasn't going to draw his blowgun once more on him.

Though Teemo was quite partial to the snacks that he received from the horned King, the mirth still left the furry lad as they got to business. Crunching thoughtfully on the cookies he listened to the information that would guide the party on their next step. He stood mouth agape as Asgore transitioned to telling his own story, the fuzzy warrior entranced by the tale of all that he lost. "Well, we yordles are immortal!" Teemo announced proudly once the topic took the matter of lives fading away. But quickly an existential dread overtook him when by the words of the ruined King, the Captain gradually began to realize that this probably didn't quite apply anymore. If he went out now, that was it: finality. A fearful shiver briefly overtook him as for the first time somebody who previously could not die now experienced fear of death. But just as any other challenge, he decided it must be taken with bravery. Sure, even if yordles were immortal as spirits that simply came back, they could still suffer and otherwise find loss. This was no different he reasoned internally, simply the stakes were a little higher. Well, much higher. But no point dwelling on it!

Teemo's face soured even further however when the story of all the sacrifices made by Asgore was expanded upon. Wiping away a tear, he saluted the King. "Sir, we absolutely will not let them get away with it. Or we'll die trying!" he said, his eyes nervously darting sideways as he hoped to avoid the awkward situation that his companions didn't share this noble sentiment out of a desire for self-preservation.

Seeing what Bowser was up to, Teemo gasped. Seeing the shelled King's expression he knew there was no dissuading him so he simply ran as fast as his stubby feet would take him to be safe from the backlash of his ill advised actions. Cowering behind a rock, Teemo hid as quietly and as compactly as he could with his hands over his skull to protect its precious contents in the even that Bowser's power-trip resulted in the whole damn place collapsing. It wasn't likely it seemed, but with the powers expended Teemo didn't quite rule it out either.

"Phew." he said, appearing out of his hiding spot somewhere between Rubrich and Primrose. While certainly Bowser's gang seemed to provide the most might to the party, the fact that it had multiple heads in its count didn't detract from the fact the group's brains were mostly amassed elsewhere.

The soldier nodded his head vigorously at the words of the Dancer, her suggested course of action the one that most upheld traditional values of heroes like justice, freedom, and blah-blah-blah. Further, he most certainly agreed with her sense of curiosity. "Oh, that's unfair!" he said when Asgore insisted they weren't ready to hear the truth. "I'll hold you to that!" he continued once the King said that he would tell them after they completed their quest. "I've been here less than a day and there's already so many question with only like...." he paused, counting fingers on a hand. "A quarter of them answered!"

Warhammer: Age of Sigmar (Duardin RP)

I find both appealing though lean to the former. AoS unfortunately gets a lot of hate so interesting to see it at last appear somewhere for rp. I'd be most interested in the former to do a Runesmith from Barak-Thryng trying to combine super traditional Dwarf rune stuff with the Kharadron way of life.

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: The Under - Ash Lake
Words Written: 512
XP Gained: 1
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris, Primrose @Yankee, Rubick @Scarifar

Powers Used: None

Teemo nodded his head as alternate paths that didn't take the group through water were discussed. It wasn't really surprising they did not want to go for a swim either. While some of them did in fact have shells, he suspected they would not be able to swim like a turtle at all. Watching the antics of the Koopa-Troop Teemo simultaneously found himself both dumbfounded and also gradually realizing just what sort of a place this was both in the absolute sense and in the abstract.

As the mechanics of the World of Light began to be demonstrated to him, he perked up somewhat. This was not too dissimilar to how itemization worked in the summoner's rift. He reckoned he'd be adapting to it all pretty darn quick. "No, they didn't show me." he replied to Primrose. "But it makes sense. Kind of." Turning his head then to Rubick who demonstrated his own take upon this, Teemo thought he had sufficient demonstration.

"Alright, alright, I got it!" he announced proudly. Like a soldier on parade he held his blowpipe in reversed arms and marched over to a pretty if noneetheless mundane piece of coral on the shore. With a kick of a tiny foot the coral was sent airborne and then caught by a gloved hand. Inspecting it Teemo then shouted a triumphant "Hyah!" as he smashed it over his knee. For a brief moment he stayed in his tableau of pride, only to open a single eye after he got a suspicion that nothing really happened. "Hmmm. Oh, I see now!" the yordle exclaimed, now running to what looked like the spine of some long dead megalodon. He stumbled a bit under the weight as he picked it up, his balance heaving him here and there a few times until he finally caught his footing. Again a proud shout emanated as he planted the spine down into the sand like a flag once more expecting some grand effect to be produced. This time he opened both eyes right away, his poncho clad shoulders sagging a little. "Oh." he mumbled with a disappointment, kicking a rock lamely in his frustration as he returned to the party.

"Didn't want any stuff anyway." he finished, following the party silently for the moment. He simply held close to the rest of the gang, until the horned fellow was spotted. In Teemo's personal experience, the guys with horns were the bad ones, and thus he preemptively dove for cover behind the nearest wall and prepared to fire until a friendly Howdy was heard. As quickly as Teemo prepared for violence he emerged from it to politely introduce himself. "Captain Teemo." he stated, before continuing with his selection of tea. "Honeysuckle, if you ain't got black. I'd love some of this ash gorse stuff, if you got spare. Even if I can't drink it, maybe it'll give some nasty a real stomach ache if you catch my drift. Oh, any snacks while you're at it? Shrooms are tastty, but can't form a diet just on them."

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: Dripstone Cave
Words Written: 391
XP Gained: 1
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris, Primrose @Yankee, Rubick @Scarifar

Powers Used: None

Bowser took the lead against the basilisks, the troop doing the bulk of the lifting in killing them. Unfortunately the terrain and the dexterity of the foe meant he could do little in the way of his usual stealth and trickery, and instead simply fired his blowpipe at their easy targets while moving away from them defensively if they got too close.

However, while Teemo was ready to display quite the bloodlust to the basilisks, he felt much less confident about fighting the giant enemy crab. For one, he found it was quite unlikely any of his darts would penetrate its shell. But rather importantly even if they did its not like they would do much without any poison on their tips.

"Not sure we should fight that." He stated, twirling his blowpipe a few times to keep his hands still warmed up. Deciding to heal off some of the damage he had, he would take a nibble of one of the many mushrooms he had hoarded, even the tiny morsel consumed ballooning his chipmunk-like cheeks with the effort of mastication.

Surveying the rest of the scene, he frowned disapprovingly. The increasingly aquatic environment troubled him, for his frame wasn't exactly well built for the world of the nautical. His head, bulbous in comparison to the rest of the body didn't have much buoyancy and he didnt have any good limbs to paddle with underwater. While being fast on the ground, he knew he couldn't mount a great speed if he was submersed. Further, his apparel and other items would probably make him sink, assuming he could properly even hold onto all of them underwater. "Umm, not in the mood for swimming either." he said, knowing that this only left one clear avenue to go down. However, he certainly also wasn't about to go alone, knowing that these people were his guides in the new world. Thus, while he did advise the group on his own abilities he wasn't about to countermand them if they desire to go elsewhere. "Maybe we can make a quick bridge to that...." he suggested, pointing to the great structure both borne up by and made of the roots nearby. "Gotta be something around. Maybe more pieces of roots and stuff. Those fish don't look like something you'd keep in a family-friendly aquarium." The yordle finished.