[Overcast]

>Reader: Abscond.

Uh oh, you just ran face first into SEYMOUR.

>Reader: First, change pants. Then, be Seymour.

You succeed in being Seymour.

You have been swimming in the waters since your protege has taken to playing silly games with his friends. You allow him these times, but only if he has earned them. After the truce you swore for the day you figure he has. In your time away you have taken a rather large squid, it was already injured when you found it so it was easy pickings. Though a bit inky. You amuse yourself with chewing on its corpse, but keep an eye out for anything that might smell the blood in the water.

The seas are never safe after all.

>Seymour: Be shocked.

Why would he be shocked, he is a perfectly competent hunter in these waters, nothing short of an alien monstrosity could...what was that sound?

>Seymour: STRIFE!

No, it wasn't that. It was a crashing sound. Far in the distance but loud enough to be worrying. Like thunder. Then the waves came, knocking you around a bit and forcing you to take heed. You swam up to the surface and stared about, looking for the cause of these strange tides.

Then there it was, the falling rocks. Out from the sky the flaming bastards crashed into the land and sea. Most harmless, if a bit shocking. None so huge as to make an issue, but it was worrisome. You decided you did not trust your ward alone at a time like this, and began the swim home. Squid in tow of course.

>Seymour: Be Leraje.

You are now Leraje. You have been waiting a short bit for Caoway to get his nerves together and start the game up you've been hearing distant echos that are starting to make you nervous and you'd rather you save your ass before it ends up dead in whatever way this game plans to end it.

For now though you are just keeping an eye on your memo.

Open MemoOO: oh good!
OO: then that sholvesh the problem of what to do with all the decomposhing carcasshesh!
CSS: ...
SH: come on gorrma lets play who cares what some dumb manual says come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

You really need to find the time to deal with Zeb, he is becoming slightly insufferable with his stupid. Still you expect this from him, it is part of why you let him join. He has all this enthusiasm and energy, you could only imagine what it could do if it was channeled in the right direction.

>Leraje: Get trolled by Scalis

Open PesterlogpandorasArchivist [PA] started trolling absentPsychologist
[AP]
PA: Agiants my...
PA: Better Jegdument
PA: And beviele me, I take pride in the fact that it is usaully much better than this
PA: So much betret, you cuold not corhepmend
PA: Awynay...
PA: I have come to restequ advice of a...
PA: Ronactim tanure.
PA: It regards Zebrek.
PA: To my eretnal shame.
AP: Romantic, eh?
AP: And with Zeb?
AP: Do, go. On.
PA: Befoer your train of thuohgt strays into the uttelry riciludous, it is Blackrom.
PA: I think. I do not even know.
PA: He is juts so... inurifating.
AP: So people say.
AP: But, I don't...know how capable. He is. With Blackrom.
AP: I want him, to be. But I don't think. He is ready...yet.
AP: I mean...what has. He done to piss you, off. That he probably...wouldn't have done. To. Everyone?
PA: It is his... narute.
PA: I think I am one of few trolls, if not the only
PA: Ufnotrunate enuogh to raelly udnertsand who he is
PA: Waht he repesrenst.
AP: And, what. Is that?
PA: He is...
PA: Suferpicial.
PA: Blind to... etheryving.
PA: Etheryving that matters.
AP: What matters. To you. Maybe.
AP: He has. His own, priorities.
AP: And...to some. They may...seem, odd.
AP: But, they make him.
PA: No, I... doubt it, atcually.
PA: He has no pirorities.
PA: He has no cocnept of pirority.
PA: He just... bindls hismelf to the world.
PA: And brings chaos where he treads.
AP: He, seems. Disorienting. But, chaos.
AP: Chaos is bigger, than he. Seem capable of, right now.
AP: He believes, in good. Things. He held his breath, till.
AP: He passed out, just to see. If we'd help him save. The world.
AP: That we. Can't save.
AP: We kept telling, him. But he belives. What he believes.
AP: That is. What makes him. Chaotic.
PA: It is what makes him blind.
PA: Blind to raelity.
PA: Etrenally irognant.
PA: You ask me to anckowlege his pirorities.
PA: But he has no udnerandsting of mine, or yours.
PA: Refuses to see.
PA: And that is...
AP: Why...you. <3= him. Eh?
AP: But, how. Does he feel, about you?
AP: I accept. Your hate, is, proper. But...he has...no hate.
AP: Just a. Lot of stupid.
PA: That is the porblem.
PA: I do not think I can stop hitang him.
PA: But it is to be...
PA: Fovorer unquerited.
PA: What do I do?
AP: ._. Hmm.
AP: -_- Mmm.
AP: I shall try. To change him. If he...can hate. I'll try to. See him, hate you.
AP: But for now, just watch. Him. Imagine. How he, reacts, to everything.
AP: And if...you see. Your black entry, then shoot.
AP: That, is all I have, for now.
PA: Canghe him indeed.
PA: This... cofnuses me. Never hadet before.
PA: I need to resvole this soon.
PA: So hurry.
AP: We'll see.
AP: Bye. ._.
absentPsychologist [AP] stopped being trolled by pandorasArchivist [PA]

An interesting development, you'll definitely need to keep an eye on Zeb then. You are still unsure of how you will get him to hate, but in games like this you have the chance to feel all sorts of emotions. Especially one that hits as close to home as this one seems to.

Anyway, back to the memo.

Open MemoCURRENT melancholicChumly [CMC] responded to memo-
CMC: Zeb, S\hut the fuck up.
CMC: You'll play when your client'S\ rea/)y.
CMC: Not one S\econ/) S\ooner.
CMC: Lera/je, I'm rea/)y on thiS\ en/).
CMC: My huS\ktop'S\ ol/). It will take a few minuteS\ to loa/).
CMC: I'm G\oinG\ take care of S\ome thinG\S\ I've been puttinG\ off.
CMC: S\ee you all S\oon.
CMC: I hope.
CURRENT melancholicChumly [CMC] ceased responding to memo.
spectacularHellion [SH] has begun holding his breath.
AP: Zeb, please don't. Do that. I need, you breathing. When they come.
AP: At any rate. Installing now. Join...a private chat. If you'd like.

Well, it seems it is time to start then. You insert the disc into your computer and let it run, your advanced processors changing from their endless shipping arrangements toward running the SGRUB. This is it.

where doing it man
where MAKING THIS HAPEN

You enter and get your first look at his hive. It is a damn mudborn fatbeast sty. You shake your head in disgust at the appearance of the shipwreck hovel, it is about time to start trolling.

Open PesterlogabsentPsychologist [AP] started trolling melancholicChumly [MC]
AP: ...this place is trashed.
AP: What. Are you. Doing?
[color="indigo]AP: I'm...going to start. Cleaning, this place. Up. Until the things. Start...arriving.[/color]
MC: ThinG\S\?
AP: Monsters.
AP: Normal...FLARP typically, has. Monster spawn, guided. By a client. Of the opposite, team.
AP: In this, case. As I am, leading you. I imagine, the monsters...will automatically. Spawn. And likely scale, to us. As we...level.
AP: But there. Are always. Monsters.
AP: Always.

You wish you could see him, while you are enjoying tossing his things in random piles around his altogether disorganized house filled with whatever sharl had tricked him into buying and other things he picked up, or(ugh) written in his so called "adventures." There was something unnerving about not having his player in view.

You decide to ease your mind by checking out some of the menu's in further detail.

>Examine Phernalia Registry

There is a whole list of junk in here that you figure you can actually put in his hive. Worth a shot, the place could use some furnishing.

Open PesterlogAP: ...there. I believe, I've cleared. Enough. Space to fit, some of these. Strange items.
AP: Dammit. What the hell, is grist?
MC: No i/)ea.
MC: Wait, /)i/) you S\ay S\omethinG\ about clearinG\ S\pace?
AP: Yes.
AP: You're hive. Is a mess.
AP: What with, all the junk. You write. And buy, from Sharl.
AP: Had to move some. Things.
MC: Whatever.
MC: It /)oeS\n't really matter anymore.
MC: AlthouG\h it iS\ worth mentioninG\ that Beechie'S\ block probably woul/) have been biG\ enouG\h to hol/) whatever it iS\ you're deployinG\.
AP: Bluh. Alright...I may have. Been taking out. Some...personal criticisms. On your writings.
AP: There. I said. It.
AP: Anyway. This is free. So let's start with that. It is called a Cruxtruder.
AP: It looks kinda neat.
MC: Fine, /juS\t S\et it here.
AP: Alright I...

>Leraje: Notice something weird.

It would appear that your client has some sort of corpse on his back. Why would he do that? Was that what he was off doing when you started, his little ocean life reaper junk.

Open PesterlogAP: What is that, on your back there?
MC: Beechie.

That was not the answer you were expecting. For a moment you can't seem to move, and then you start unconsciously doing things. Not really thinking, just acting.

Open PesterlogAP: Oh no.
AP: Is it...
MC: ...Yes.
MC: There was a tidal wave.
MC: And some sharp rocks.
MC: It was all my fault.
MC: ...
MC: Weren't you G\oinG\ to /)eploy S\omethinG\?
AP: ...yes.
AP: I put your writings back.
AP: I'm sorry...I...
AP: ...
MC: Lera/je, thank you for the S\ympathy but..
MC: We /)on't have time for thiS\.
MC: Take a look outS\i/)e.
MC: S\omethinG\ tellS\ me that S\tar S\hower out there iS\n't /juS\t a happy coinci/)ence.

You shake yourself aware, he's right. Lives are at stake right now. Mostly his life, and you both have a game to play to save yourselves. This is most unsettling, but you have to get beyond it. For him.

Open PesterlogMC: Now, what /)o I /)o with thiS\?
AP: ...I have no idea.
AP: There is some. Kind of wheel on the side.
AP: And...the, top looks. Openable.
AP: Just fool. With it. A bit.
MC: Poppe/) open pretty eaS\ily.
MC: Okay, what the FLARP iS\ thiS\ thinG\?
MC: It'S\ kin/) of hurtinG\ my eyeS\ to look at.
MC: ...That count/)own S\eemS\ ominouS\.
AP: Frightfully. So.
AP: But...according to the. Guide, that is a. Kernelsprite.
AP: You are supposed to. Prototype it with something.
AP: Whatever. That. Means.
MC: I'll /juS\t chuck S\ome worthleS\S\ piece of G\arbaG\e into it.
MC: S\o lonG\, BeaG\lepuS\S\.
MC: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!

Your jaw clenches, he got the Beaglepuss in there, but it looks like the Kernalsprite got a little extra by sucking up Beechie as well. Not really a great thing to happen so soon after it died. You want to say something meaningful, but all that ends up out of your screen is,

Open PesterlogAP: Uh oh.
MC: ...
MC: IS\ there anythinG\ elS\e that nee/)S\ /)eployinG\?
Uh. Yes.
MC: Make S\ome room upS\tairS\ then.
MC: ToS\S\ out my recuperacoon.
MC: I har/)ly ever S\lept in it anyway.
AP: This is. An Alchemiter.
AP: Dunno. What it does.
MC: LookS\ like it haS\ a platform for S\omethinG\.
MC: Hol/) on.
MC: I'm G\oinG\ to use the other thinG\ that came out of the cruxthinG\y.
MC: BlockS\. S\well.
MC: We're makinG\ G\reat proG\reS\S\.
AP: I'm probably going. To get, rid of these. Things.
AP: They seem, pretty useless.
AP: And they cost us, that grist stuff.
AP: Anyway, one more freebie.
MC: S\ayonara, bureau.
MC: Looks like thiS\ totem thinG\y G\oeS\ in the whatever it iS\ you /juS\t /)eploye/).
MC: An/) there S\eemS\ to be a S\hunt for S\omethinG\.
MC: IS\ there anythinG\ left?
MC: How much time /)o we have left for the matter?
AP: A pre punched, sylladex card.
AP: And I don't think you want...to ask. Me about the time.
MC: Okay, car/) S\eemS\ to fit in here.
MC: Well, now the thinG\ haS\ a lot of G\ooveS\.
MC: Back to the alchemiter.

Ugh all of this watching is getting tiresome, maybe you can find something to get your mind back into awareness.

>Leraje: Check the memo.

Open MemoCSS: Be right back.
CURRENT StalkerSahagin [CSS] ceased responding to memo.
spectacularHellion [SH] passed out.
AP: Dammit Zeb.
CUREENT StalkerSahagin [CSS] responded to Memo
CSS: My lusus has died.
PAST pandorasArchivist [PPA] has responded to memo
PPA: My sythmapeis.
PPA: It appaers to be giong arnoud.
PPA: Do not midn me. I am but a lenoly Rocket.
PPA: Fidning out whether your team is truly as uncoodrinated as ours.
BT: what do you meeean, "going around"?
BT: not that i'm WORRIEEED.
BT: i meeean i gueeess i should beee worrieeed, but my lusus is geeetting old.
BT: if ANYTHING kills heeer it'll beee ageee.
PPA: Parheps. Parheps not.
PPA: There heav been... ohter deaths.
PPA: Mine has... dippaseared.
PPA: Semothing is chagning.
CSS: I saved the corpse.
CSS: Might eat it later.
AP: Good, to see. You are taking. It well.
CURRENT melancholicChumly [CMC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo-
CMC: Tick tick!
CMC: RunninG\ out of time!
AP: Hey. I don't, know. What to do, with that thing.
CMC: S\o, inS\tea/) of thinkpanS\torminG\, you S\hit aroun/) on thiS\ memo?
AP: You have, even less. Reason, to be here.
AP: Back to the, alchemiter with you!
CMC: Oh, riG\ht.
CMC: S\orry to hear about your luS\uS\ Piron.
CMC: An/) you too S\caliS\.
CURRENT melancholicChumly [CMC] ceased responding to memo-

SO BOTHERSOME. You look back to the screen you had put him on and watch the alchemiter pop out a little reward just in time. Right into his greedy little hands.

>Leraje: Troll Caoway.

Open PesterlogAP: Fine, I'm back. What did we make?
AP: Is that. A fishing pole?
AP: Oh look, you caught...something.
MC: No S\hit.
MC: Finny baS\tar/)'S\ puttinG\ up one hell of fiG\ht.
MC: I /)on't even know why I'm /)oinG\ thiS\.
MC: IS\ thiS\ pro/)uctive?
MC: Urk, thiS\ S\tupi/) pole iS\n't workinG\ right.
MC: It'S\ G\oinG\ to G\et away!
MC: Lera/je, catchyeG\rabbit!
AP: Alright just...let me.
AP: Oh, dammit.
AP: I can't interact, with thing's. You are, interacting with...
MC: /)ammit, thiS\ iS\ S\o S\tupi/)!
MC: I /)on't have time for thiS\!
MC: Why the fuck can't I reel it in?
MC: I lan/) S\ea monS\terS\ all the time an/) I juS\t ate S\ome weir/) alien plant from a /)umb can!
AP: What...is your deal. With fish, anyway?
AP: I mean...even Piron doesn't. Hunt them, like you. Do.
AP: It is like, you have...a vendetta or something.
MC: IS\ now the time to be aS\kinG\ thiS\?
AP: I'm...just trying. To understand. Why you don't. Just.
AP: Let. It. Go.
MC: Why S\houl/) I?
MC: NothinG\ that S\wimS\ in the water haS\ ever G\iven me a break.
AP: And that's it? That is...why you. Are sitting here, using your last moments. Breathing fighting a fish?
AP: Because you might have been. Abused, by the waterborne?
AP: Oh boo hoo.
AP: YOU ARE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE.
AP: Think, you fool.
MC: You're right.
MC: I am a fool.

Oh great. Now he is ignoring you. FINE! You have other stuff to take care of anyway, he can save his own damn self...okay you lie you keep watching him. You aren't sure what he is going to do but you're nervous. That time limit isn't getting any longer, if he is going to find a way out, he's going to need to find it soon.

>Leraje: First, be the other troll.