#Nyzere Olorik

[cloudbattrolls]

It's Too Cliché

Crista Condyl | A Remote Beach | Present Night

Crista brooded over their coffee cup. Well. They sulked, more like, but let them have this. They deserved it. They needed it.

The wizard leaned back in the old but comfortable recliner. They were currently in a little rentable beach cottage they liked to return to when they could, since it was often empty. 

If it wasn’t when they got there, they could activate their ward on the place that made whoever was there pack their things and get going in a hurry, manifesting an illusion of whatever problem with the hive would get them going fastest by using their subconscious fears as a base. 

The little wooden building wasn’t the nicest place - hence why it was often empty - and yet another draft came whistling through the poorly insulated walls, but a few wards for warmth and protection made it safe and comfortable enough. They couldn’t do too much - didn’t want to attract attention from any other passing magic users, even if the chance was low. 

Or worse and much more likely, undead. 

Ghosts were easily kept out, but a horde of zombies was a slightly bigger issue.

They sighed, taking a sip of the hot beverage, just having poured it from the place’s coffeemaker. The blend was good, at least; they’d bought it with money from their last job. Nice and smooth, with tones of hazelnut.

Often they liked tea, but right now? Right now was a coffee moment, for sure and absolute certain. The heels of their lavender boots drummed against the floor as they considered their situation.

Two! Two crazy…attachments!

As if one wasn’t enough. At least the first one could just be put down to Catill being unfairly gorgeous and talented. Who wouldn’t be a bit smitten with a woman that impressive and a little frightening to boot?

But there was no way to explain away Kormut as anything but. That. 

Pale feelings. 

Ugh.

A blueblood! A ruddy blueblood of all things! Didn’t that cap it all. Granted, he was hardly typical…but still. He’d far outlive them. They could hardly go out together without getting looks for what a ridiculous caste gap there was.

Even thinking about that was crazy! Kormut probably didn’t see them that way at all. What a silly thought. They’d look so stupid if they told him how they felt.

‘Oh hello, Kormut dear, I’ve fallen in pale with you. Want to go out for dinner? Presuming we can get you to a restaurant without major injury or the food all spoiling on arrival.’

He’d be nice about it, but probably confused, trying to let them down gently. Ughhh, so awkward! 

Catill…

She’d made that little world for them, hadn’t she? Such a beautiful place…so well done, so well lit and that gorgeous sky, the detail on those lanterns…had she really meant it as…?

If she had - oh gods, what were they supposed to do? Try to impress her again? What if it failed? What if they were assuming too much?

Well. If they had, they’d just…laugh it off! That’s right. Everything could be laughed off. Haha, whoops, I thought you might be flush-flirting! With me! Haha, that’s sure a funny mistake I made, oopsie daisy, my bad. Please don’t rot my brain.

But if they were right…

Catill. Gathering mushrooms. Casting a spell. Moonlight shining pink and green on her white hair. That tiny little curled part of her horns that seemed so delicate. The way her face looked when she teased them…they wanted a closer view of that expression.

Crista coughed on their drink, hot brown liquid dousing the back of their throat and arcing back into their warm cream mug patterned with daisies.

Women, perpetually their undoing. 

Well, in for beetle, in for a caeger. Even if they were imagining things, might as well have fun, right? Plus, they had an idea…

They finished off their coffee and decided to retire for the night, but they knew what they’d do next evening, right after breakfast.

—

“Oh, boo.” They complained, down on their hands and knees among the beach’s rocks and tide pools, the damp sand clinging to their bare skin and clothes. “There has to be some somewhere! Right? Surely everyone didn’t take it all already…”

They squinted through their glasses, which were after all supposed to help with their farsightedness, and which they suspected might need a prescription update sometime, since they had neglected it for…almost a sweep. 

Of course, it couldn’t be anywhere that used an imperial database. That was the bother of it, and of so many other things. 

Oh, sure, they had fake IDs and the like, they could fog a mind or two…but you never knew what sort of mind readers, empaths, or nullifiers such a place might have on staff. They had a good read on magical energy, but their own psi being so weak, they weren’t much good at sniffing out how powerful someone else might be on that way.

“What are you looking for, fellow?”

They looked up, ears flicking in alarm as they startled from the sudden voice.

Oh, that was a tall oliveblood. 

They didn’t know greens got that gangly - well, gangly wasn’t the right word, this person was stouter and curvier than that. 

They had a nice voice, too, fairly deep and mellow, and their hair was…red, huh. Dyed, clearly, they could see the black roots, but red nonetheless. 

They also wore sunglasses, even though it was a cloudy night.

Well, whatever. Some people had things to hide, other trolls just liked the aesthetic, silly as it looked.

“Sea glass, seen any?” Crista saw no reason to lie; this person didn’t seem aggressive. 

Not yet, anyway. 

“Hmm, no, sorry.” They genuinely sounded a bit apologetic. “What do you need it for?”

“Uh.” They paused. “I want to make a sort of…miniature fountain thing…for a friend. I thought pieces of it would be good decoration, nice for lights to shine through.”

The midblood put a hand - with red claw polish - to their mouth as they laughed delightedly.

“Sweet thing to do! I’ll help you look if you do me a favor; you haven’t seen any trolls with jade pins around here, have you? Ones shaped like crowns?”

Crista shuddered. “Absolutely not, and if I had I’d scarper. Don’t ever want to tangle with those…people.” The rust said, with the clear impression that they would have happily used a different and far more negative noun.

“Smart! Now this one’s stranger, but bear with me; how about mannequins? Any clothes mannequins in places they shouldn’t be?”

Crista startled. “Thought that was just some urban legend rubbish. You’re telling me it’s true?”

“Not sure yet.” The tall troll said casually. “So you haven’t?”

“I’ve seen one from a distance in the woods one time…I thought it was just a prank.” They admitted.

“Maybe so.” Replied the olive amicably. “Either way, thanks. So where do you want me to look?”

“Uh.” Crista was surprised the olive was holding up their end of the deal, and blinked a few times. 

“Er, over at the other end of the beach would be helpful, I haven’t looked down there yet. Um, thanks.” They added as they gestured with a pointer finger, somewhat awkward but sincere.

“It’s nothing.” Said the green, laughing again as they turned and walked the other way down the strip of sand. 

Crista realized the troll hadn’t given their name, but well, they hadn’t given theirs either. Not that the carefree midblood seemed too fussed either way.

They kept looking, but only found a few small pieces, and sighed. At least they’d picked up a half-dozen nice shells, too…they brushed the sand off their hands and stuck them into the cold sea for a few moments, then shook them off.

The olive came back with - with - heavens, how had they possibly found that much? Sea glass of multiple colors glimmered in their hands, easily over a dozen pieces of it. 

“Wh -“ Crista sputtered, honestly a little jealous, adjusting their glasses to make sure they were seeing correctly. “How? Are you psychic? What’s your secret?”

The midblood laughed again. “Nothing very dramatic, I promise.” 

They handed it over, the smooth pieces pouring out of their darker-skinned hands into Crista’s pale ones as the maroon blinked in disbelief. The wizard put them in their sylladex with the others, noting that the other troll hadn’t answered their question. 

Definitely a strange one…but they supposed they shouldn’t question someone who had helped them for the low price of answering two questions.

The olive nodded cheerfully, then turned and began to walk away. Crista watched them go…then called out.

“Wait, I…what IS your name?”

“Djimin.” Said the troll easily. 

“Thank you, Djimin.”

They tipped their head with a fond smile, and then walked away further, vanishing from the maroon’s sight.

Crista looked up at the moons, the pink one a mere sliver, the green one soft and gibbous. 

Moonlight on white hair. Moonlight on water. Moonlight streaming through glass, as if it were a current unto its own, particle and wave and liquid all at once.

They hoped their idea would be enough.

—

Keeping the water starry had stumped them for a hot minute, but what did any wizard worth their salt do? Cheat. 

In this case, enchant the water to draw a reflection from water on whatever part of the planet was currently experiencing nighttime.

Said water flowed from a pot Catill herself had made from the clay they’d found and shared with her, looping up and back down into it in an infinite spiral. 

When she’d given it to them, it had been the first time their face had warmed because of the yellowblood…

Ack! So sappy. Why did she do this to them? 

Well. That wasn’t exactly a mystery…she was everything a witch should be. Powerful. Ruthless. Imperious. 

Beautiful.

Kind to them. Even though she was so much stronger. 

Crista looked at their own rippling reflection in the water. Not bad. Not amazing, either. So-so, but it was amazing what a little confidence and some magical talent did for you…

Among ordinary trolls. For her, it would require more.

They swallowed a sip of ordinary water from a glass, then prepared to speak the final spell to complete the piece they had planned. It didn’t do to go dry-mouthed in the middle of an incantation.

Everything was laid out on the worn wooden table in front of them, the old brown thing a bit rotted and worn by the sweeps and salt air. But it still held, and would for a while longer.

They looked at the page they had written it on, at the sea glass carefully placed in the appropriate sections of a magical array. Their maroon eyes wandered over the shells they had gathered, and the crystallized mana they had borrowed - from Catill - to aid in this spell and make sure they wouldn’t pass out after casting it.

Crista had even cleansed themself with saltwater beforehand, and said a quiet prayer to the spirits they hoped were listening.

One night they’d hear them again. Right?

“O éiríonn uiscí agus fite fuaite le chéile, ag éirí mar ghloine go scarann ​​tú arís…”

Gaelige. Of all the languages they knew - though many only in bits and pieces - it felt right for this spell. These were the words of making.

Words through which magic flowed, pouring through reality to mingle with the mundane and elevate it to so much more.

As they spoke, the simple clay container unfolded into a miniature fountain. It became three-tiered, decorated with small leaping cats and perching parrots, the baked earth turning a rich golden yellow.

The sea glass all melded together and adhered to it in decorative engravings in its many shimmering blues and greens, delicately accenting the animals’ eyes, along with the tips of their fur and feathers. The shell covered the edges of the tiers, in soft pearlescent and striped-brown hues.

The water itself could turn to starry glass with a simple command, capturing the constellation that its water reflected at the time. Yet it could also be returned to the flow and become its native shape again.

If someone who so happened to be skilled with light shined their power through the liquid…

It would radiate like a galaxy.

Crista breathed heavily, sweating with effort despite their preparations. Oh…that had taken…

They sat down heavily on the old recliner again. They could stay awake, but only barely.

Perhaps Catill would have to wait a little longer, just a bit…but what a present they’d have for her.

Something made by - and at its best with - both their talents.

Magic was better when shared, after all. 

[cloudbattrolls]

Chatting in cat tower made me remember these two who aside from N names and criminal activities have nothing in common but I kind of want to give them a connection now, it’s pretty plausible they would have dealt with each other.

Nyzere is probably kind of wary of Naitos, not because they worry about him being aggressive toward them personally (he will make threats but is mostly hot air, unlike Nyzere Naitos has no problems with violence he just also likes to minimize any risk of getting injured because he heals more slowly than a normal troll) but because of the trouble that tends to follow him

Naitos looks down on Nyzere (metaphorically anyway physically they tower over him) and thinks they’re pathetic and weak, but useful. Look at this big soft idiot. They don’t even have cool limeblood powers! And their huge ears are stupid.

Nyzere just smiles and nods because of not giving a fuck and not wanting a fight.

[cloudbattrolls]

Nyzere was such a minor character and yet the one drabble I wrote with them I still consider one of my best, which is saying something because I see much of my writing as “eh” or at most decent, I’m pretty self-critical.

So I wanna give them a good updated design and I like this so far. Also making them a foot taller cause while I avoided it for years I’m like...fuck it I want some big ass trolls too so they are now 7’8 instead of 6’8 and round and broad as well. Thicc, as the kids would say.

They’re still not the happiest with their height - mostly because in their line of work it’s best to go unnoticed and that’s difficult when you’re big as shit. But they like the rest of their appearance, because only one sadsack about their body/looks allowed and Maidel fills that slot (though he rarely actively angsts about it these days).

Gave them a slight beard because I need more nb trolls with more masc traits, or in Nyzere’s case all the traits because facial hair, deep voice, boobs, thick hips. Nyzere’s gender is “yes.”

[cloudbattrolls]

You’ll Never Know (I Loved You So)

Nyzere Olorik || 6.4 sweeps

When Mmienu sparks, it’s a smooth silver glow wrapping around her, and she always taps her fingers three times against her thigh. Her pupils go bright, and her hair crackles slightly, tiny pinpoints of light flickering through her heavy braids.

You spark and it’s a dull, washed out purple, sluggish tendrils exuding from your horns like the bad effects in the creche movies. You can barely do light at all, and it’s not fair. You puff your cheeks out and she doesn’t even notice. 

“Nyeih!” You flop backwards in the dirt with a huff, getting your curls dirty - Yengei will have your carapace for it later - but nothing else’s working.

Her ears are dumb and short, but she looks down, with her silly tusks poking out of her frowning lips. You can see every pore, the tiny beads of sweat there, individual hairs on her head.

“Ná yo, Olo, you know better than that.”

“Souris.” 

She bites her lip to keep from laughing even as you slide backwards to get out of the way of her slap. Nobody else gets that face out of her, but they also don’t get her fronds quite so much.

“What’s it matter? E nyeih, Mimu. You’re all maroon, except Banshu. Banshu’s crazy anyway.”

“No nyieh, no souris. You want to sound Imperial? Or like an iceblood?”

“Souris’s not so bad.” You protest, shooting back up and waving your fronds. “Squeakbeasts are cute! Only dumb words, Mimu.”

“Whose facts are those, Olo?”

You hate that question every time. Mmienu’s barely half a sweep older, she hasn’t got the right, acting like she’s a jade or something.

“Icebloods’.” You mutter, digging your claws into the ground, watching the dry earth creep under them. Yengei’s going to scrub you like fury.

She boops your nose. “Right! Good troll!” You snap at it and push her -

- then you’re sitting and blinking, and Mmienu looks just as surprised as you do; the most surprising thing.

“What were we doing?” You ask, ears back. You can see her hesitate, the smallest twitch of her body, then she slumps.

“My...psi, it acted by itself...”

“What, no way.” 

It’s possible; Banshu can never stop making plants grow, and that’s why they’re insane. It can’t be Mmienu. She’s different. She's not allowed to go crazy.

 “Before it was just...” She shudders. “Olo, my psi isn’t really psiionics. It’s psychics.”

You flick dirt at her. “You’re not iceblooded! That can’t be.”

“Shut up.” She snaps, and you shuffle a few feet back. “I just made you forget what happened. That’s my power, and I’m nyeih, like you said, want to bleed me and check?!”

She breaks off and her eyes widen, the silver finally dying as you shakily get to your walkstubs.

“Oh, no, Olo, no, please...”

You run.

Nyzere Olorik || 7.3 sweeps

Yengei took it much better than you thought she would, the night you ran into the village half sobbing, half babbling about what Mmienu had told you. She had her lusus hold you, since yours was out hunting, and Yengei’s monkey father was long resigned to pupas crawling all over him. Or burying their faces in his fur.

Mmienu hated you at first, cold as an iceblood’s flesh, and you pretended it didn’t hurt when she pointedly sat on the other side of village gatherings, or when she left bugs in your recuperacoon.

Eventually she warmed to you again, and the pair of you went hunting and climbing like you’d done forever.

“Yengei says the Empire recruiters are coming in two perigees.” 

Mmienu’s on a much higher branch, and you have your smelling on, not your hearing. Your psi-glow fades and you ask her to repeat it - she does, singsong and mocking, asking you what your auriculars are even for. You just shrug.

“So? They came when we were six, too. Bet it’ll be the same. Maybe they’ll take Banshu this time, or Fuuloe. Nobody’ll miss them, except the beer trader.”

You want to like the beer trader - he’s nice, and his mongoose lusus is so pretty - but every time after he stops at your village, Banshu and Fuuloe fight, and it’s usually with each other, or with anyone who doesn’t get out of the way fast enough to avoid being clubbed with a bottle. Yengei says it’s just pitchflirting, but how can she be sure? She doesn’t seem to care much, as long as they clean up after. 

“Be serious, Olo. I’m eight now; they might try to take me.” 

You look up, bracing a hand on the trunk for support, frowning, shifting a little on the smooth bark beneath your walkstubs. 

“Not without testing you first, it wouldn’t be legal.” 

You know much better about psychics now; ever since Mimu’s confession, you’d watched every schoolfeed about them. You couldn’t always follow the words if they were in Standard or even French, but you understood the footage and the diagrams.

She huffs, flicks back a curl she’s letting out loose tonight, unlike her old heavy braids. She’s started filing her tusks, too, and you even sneaked her a better emery board for it.

“You’re such a grub sometimes. The icebloods don’t care what’s legal! They make the laws. None of us can do anything about it.”

The bitterness in her voice is jarring. Why does she hate high trolls so much? As far as you know, she’s never even met one.

You climb up to her level while sits with her arms crossed, and plunk down beside her.

“What’s up, Mimu? Don’t tell me nothing; you’ll stink like a barkbeast carcass.”

“You’re the most annoying troll ever.” She mutters, tapping her fingers against her thigh. You wait for a minute, and she sighs and relents.

“Two weeks back, a cerulean came to the village.”

“What! I don’t remember...” You trail off and she looks at you pointedly. You shuffle and flush in embarrassment.

“She was beautiful, sharp-horned with glossy headfluff and lacquered claws...I wanted to hate her, Olo, but how was I supposed to hate someone so pretty? She was only a sweep older than me, too, and she knew so many things. Yengei was pleased at how well we got along, and then...”

Her face sours like she’s just bitten into a papaya and found it full of flies.

“...Yengei tells me I’m supposed to go be her moirail, and that my powers belong to her now. She gave me away like a slab of hog meat, and I was supposed to step in line like a good little nyeih.” She spits. “All for more supplies for the village! Yengei can choke.”

Your whole body is rigid, and you hardly manage to shakily ask her what happened next.

“I didn’t cull her, stop looking like you turned to stone.” says Mmienu, waving a hand like the idea of culling a blueblood is nothing. “I made her forget, and everyone else. It’s fine.”

“Why did you have to make me forget?” You ask, hugging yourself, voice small. “I thought you trusted me, Mimu.”

She rolls her eyes, just starting to be flecked with maroon, and shakes her head, curls bouncing.

“Olo, I love you, but you’ve already proved how you handle things. Don’t take it personally.”

There’s nothing you can say to that, even if your pumper hadn’t crawled its way into your throat and killed your ability to speak.

Nyzere Olorik || 7.4 sweeps

Fuuloe’s blow nearly breaks your jaw; would’ve if Mmienu hadn’t shoved you out of the way in time, yelling at him fit to crack the heavens. You drop to the ground and scoot out of the way, as far as you can.

“Pisse-froid! Your lusus should’ve eaten you in the egg!”

Fuuloe’s lusus is cowering under a bench; he’s just a bay duiker, and he knows better than to get between troll fights after Fuuloe’s scrapped with Banshu so many times.

Mmienu tries to spark silver, but Fuuloe keeps swinging at her, and he has a head and fifty pounds on her, so she can’t afford to get hit. No time to focus on psychics.

Banshu’s already facedown in their psi’s albertisa flowers, groaning while their civet lusus licks their wounds. The rest of the village is out, or hiding in their hives; Fuuloe has no psi, but he hardly needs it when he towers like an indigo, and everyone would rather swallow live cichelids than get in Mmienu’s way.

You don’t know what happened, but turning on smell confirms your suspicion; Fuuloe reeks of alcohol, even more than Banshu does, and his eyes are a wild orange.

If only your sparks weren’t worthless in every other way. Not like Mmienu’s.

Unless.

You switch to sight, and you scan over Fuuloe until you find what you need.

“Hey, Fufu! Get over here, you nyeih, souris-pumpered basta - “

He barrels toward you, but the weakness you spotted in his ankle - imprinted with vine marks -  results in his heavy body thudding into the dirt as you yank on it and topple him, and Mmienu flares silver so bright you shut your bulbs.

When you open them again, blinking, Fuuloe’s bulbs are vacant. and his mouth’s open. A little blood trickles from it, dark red, but also drool. You shut your sight off, but every detail is still too vivid, too much. He’s breathing, ragged gasps like a downed animal, but...

“Get up, Olo. I need you to help me tell Yengei.”

Mmienu’s grim tones help you get back to the wider world, and you stumble to your feet. A sick, dreadful feeling creeps through you.

“What did you do, Mmienu...?”

She flushes maroon and looks away.

“I had to, Olo. He was going to cull us. Look at Banshu; they’re half dead themself. I saved us.”

You don’t understand, but you feel even sicker somehow, and you look back at the prone troll...

“Fuuloe?”

It’s the gentlest you’ve ever spoken to him. Fuuloe’s a drunk, obnoxious waste of slurry, but he never failed to bring in plenty of food, or to help patch a hive roof when it was needed. He’s still a villager, and you’ve known him your whole life.

His ragged breathing is your only reply.

Your ears flatten all the way to your neck, and your own breathing becomes shallow with fear.

“No. Mmienu, no. You didn’t.”

She’s crying, and there’s no more silver glow, only the burgundy of her tears.

Nyzere Olorik || 7.5 sweeps

The Imperial recruiters are dressed in crisp red and black in the morning’s faded gray sky, no gray or maroon to be seen, but you can only watch from a peephole that Yengei’s letting you use. It’s stuffy in her hive, since she shut the windows and drew the curtains. Your knees are starting to fall asleep from kneeling on the hard plastic floor.

She says the imps will cull you if you get too close, and you really want to see what happens, so you only nodded.

Mmienu’s practically unrecognizable, standing so stiff you could hang meat on her, as the other trolls chatter. Even with hearing on, you can’t make it out too well; it’s a mess of Standard, with some rapid French and occasional Nafaanra, mostly from Yengei. 

Mmienu is eerily silent. Has been for nearly a perigee, ever since she wiped away everything in Fuuloe’s pan. Banshu left him for the hogs and the leopards, and everyone pretended that there were no streaks of bronze on their face when they came back from the forest.

They never smell of beer anymore.

The worst part is that Mmienu doesn’t blame you. You asked, and you know when she’s lying. She wasn’t tapping her fingers on her thigh, either; Yengei’d skin her if she did, and you trust her anyway, even if you know she could just make you forget it.

She didn’t. That’s what matters.

You wish she’d blame you. You wish she’d blame you, Fuuloe, Banshu, Yengei, anyone else - just not her. It wasn’t her fault.

If it wasn’t her fault, she wouldn’t have to go.

“...excellent! You’ll be taken to the testing facility tomorrow night. Here are your papers, and your luggage bags..”

You have to try very hard to not make any noise. 

They finally drift away, and Yengei puts a hand on Mmienu’s shoulder, steering her back in the hive. It’s a punch in the thorax, seeing her this way.

Yengei runs a hand down her face as they walk inbefore looking at you. “Pahuwa wè sɛ́, Nyzere. Don’t try to fight this, for the love of the ancestors, if you’ve any sense. Say your goodbyes now, because you can’t do it next evening.”

It’s been so long since anyone called you by your hatchnames you barely think about yours. You’d practically forgotten Mmienu’s. 

You sniff, even though you know she’ll hate it. You hardly notice Yengei leaving; your bulbs are only for the maroon in front of you.

“You better be really good.” You say, trying not to cry. “The best. Better than all the icebloods.”

She still doesn’t say anything.

“Mimu...please don’t make me forget you.”

“You want to be sad, Nyzere? You want to keep being weak your whole life? Is that what you want?” She snarls, but you don’t care. Olive-lime tears are running down your face, out your sniffsponge.

“I want you. But I know...” You suck in a breath and continue.  “That can’t happen. So please...let me keep this.”

For a moment you think she’s going to strike you, but her hand falls and she looks so, so tired.

“Fine. I’m erasing my own when I get there. Don’t try to find me.”

Your pumper leaps.

“You mean - you mean you know it’s my fault? Mimu, I knew you’d realize, I - “

“Shut up!” Her clenched fists and bared fangs make you wish you were shorter than her, make you wish you could sink into the floor.

“It’s not your fault, so stop acting like it. This would’ve happened anyway. I was a rot-pan for trying to shake it off. It’s the only way you can be safe. Don’t you get it?”

Now she’s shaking, her voice wobbling like a rock about to fall off a very, very high cliff.

You hug her so hard you hear her wheeze, and then she pushes you off. 

“Olo..don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She mutters.

“You might forget me, but I’ll never forget you, even until I die and the leopards eat me, I’ll still remember the way you’re a mean little souris.”

She half-laughs, half-groans.

“Only you could make that less obnoxious.”

You can still barely do light, but you do it for her.

The shape of a mouse.

Nyzere Olorik || 8.5 sweeps

In the half sweep since she left, your eyes have filled in lime-olive, and the other villagers told Yengei you needed to leave for everyone’s safety. Banshu eyed you with a predator’s appraisal, and you didn’t fight as it became official. 

You’ve traveled since, relying on your psi and wits to survive, meeting all kinds of trolls. 

Now you’re at a fleet training center for pre-ascension recruits. You’re confident in your disguise; you look perfectly nyeih, except for your height, but you know how to be non-threatening.

A few hours’ wait, feeding pigeons bread while carefully scanning the campus, and your patience is rewarded.

You hardly recognize her; her ridged horns are filed smooth, her tusks clipped back, and her hair has been cut short. You almost don’t believe it’s her, her eyes fully maroon now, but she laughs the exact same way.

She taps her thigh.

You wander near enough to her that her head darts toward you automatically, but then moves to the next face. No recognition. You can tell she’s not hiding it; she’d be angry you were here, fists clenched. She laughs at someone’s joke, booping their nose.

You turn away, whistling softly.

Pahuwa will be fine.

[cloudbattrolls]

SS: Why would they want me as a trophy and for dinner? You can't eat me and mount me on a wall!

SS: ...unless you were really dedicated, I guess.

SS: Ew.

SS: Is that what the kids do these nights? The newest trend?

SS: I don't want to know about this trend.

[cloudbattrolls]

Djimin is one of Nyzere’s aliases. A minor brownblood performer who recites poetry in obscure languages. 

their psi glows purple, which they occasionally use to fake being indigo.

[cloudbattrolls]

My favorite sections of the Nyzere/Pheres rp, which was LONG and though I’m only posting some of it there’s still lots xD

[08:36] CC: anyway what can I do for you my fine fellow

[08:36] RS: | I heard You Make False Identities |

[08:36] CC: Or

[08:36] CC: Other

[08:37] RS: | Um |

[08:37] CC: Ahhh this is business!

[08:37] CC: Yes

[08:37] CC: I do

[08:37] RS: | | You Know Wha t| Let's Go with Other | ! | =:B |

[08:37] CC: what can I make for you

[08:37] CC: Other? Well

[08:37] RS: | What | Goodness |

[08:37] CC: how ~mysterious~

[08:37] CC: I approve

[08:37] RS: | I Try | ! |

[08:37] RS: | Or | Well | Am Trying | Present Tense | This is a New Endeavour |

[08:38] RS: | But If I have Your Approval |

[08:38] RS: | I take It I am Succeeding | ! | =:) |

[08:38] CC: Anyone who comes to me and knows of my fine trade has my approval, mysterious stranger!

[08:38] CC: especially if they plan on purchasing. but you know. I'm not pushy. I can admire mystique

[08:38] CC: it is such a fleeting quality

[08:39] RS: | | Given that You are Quite Mysterious | ! | Did You Know | It took Several Days to Find Someone Who Knew Someone Who could Forge the |

[08:39] RS: | the | Haha | Well | ! | Hopefully | In this Case | It will Not be Fleeting |

[08:39] RS: | But | Oh Dear | I am Getting Off Topic |

[08:39] RS: | Business | ! | Right | Ah |

[08:39] RS: | Do You Forge Identity Papers | ? |

[08:39] CC: Sometimes! Altering them is more my jam, really, but I CAN do that.

[08:40] RS: | Mm | No | I'm afraid Forging would be Necessary | Unless You can Take a Dead Troll's Papers | ? |

[08:40] RS: | I Read that Someone Did That Once |

[08:40] RS: | In a Book |

[08:40] CC: Oh sure

[08:40] CC: It happens

[08:40] RS: | | But It was a Cheap Book |

[08:40] CC: Not that it's what I usually do

[08:40] RS: | Oh | ! |

[08:40] CC: I'm not really one for uh

[08:40] CC: stabbing and running

[08:40] RS: | What |

[08:40] CC: bodies aren't really favorable in my line of work

[08:40] CC: but some trolls operate that way

[08:40] RS: | What | ? |

[08:40] CC: to each their own I guess

[08:40] RS: | Oh | No | No | No |

[08:40] RS: | Please Do Not Stab Anyone |

[08:41] CC: You don't gotta tell me twice! I don't really like fights

[08:43] CC: Oh, oh man, okay, I'm sorry

[08:43] CC: let me go back

[08:43] CC: you mentioned that cheap book

[08:43] CC: where someone took a dead troll's papers

[08:44] CC: and while that does sound ~excessively dramatic~ (it is) (it so is)

[08:44] CC: (you wouldn't catch me operating like that. mostly)

[08:44] CC: some trolls DO kill someone - with stabbing, sometimes - and make off with their papers

[08:44] CC: so it happens

[08:44] CC: sometimes

[08:44] CC: by people who are willing to take HUGE risks

[08:48] RS: | I need a Navyblood | of Around Eight | And | Ah | Paperwork that can Hold up to the Inspections Required for Participation in the Official FLARPing League |

[08:49] CC: Oooooh...you sure like to pick 'em, don't you?

[08:49] CC: Tricky.

[08:49] CC: But not impossible.

[08:49] RS: | | Perhaps I should Clarify | Hold Up | as in She will Not Get Shot |

[08:49] RS: | And by She | I mean I | Obviously |

[08:49] CC: I figured! I don't like dead customers

[08:49] CC: they don't come back

[08:49] RS: | Haha | That is My Philosophy as Well | =:) |

[08:49] CC: also I'd be appalled at myself if I let someone down so horribly!

[08:50] CC: what kind of forger would I be [:C

[08:50] CC: a bad one

[08:50] CC: with a very sad face

[08:50] RS: | Are Those Your Horns | ? | That is an Adorable Face | If You Don't Mind My Saying | =:) |

[08:50] RS: | And | Oh | No | Please |

[08:50] RS: | Take Your Time |

[08:51] RS: | I'd Hate for Anything to Be Subpar about the Paperwork |

[08:51] CC: Aw, -well-, you're just a right old flatterer aren't you?

[08:51] RS: | Not that I am Expecting as Much From You | Given That You are so Cordial | And Clearly a Professional |

[08:51] RS: | | Haha | Flattery | ? | From Me | ? | No |

[08:51] RS: | I am simply Being Truthful | =:) |

[08:51] CC: okay now you're just laying it on thicker than butter, you scallywag

[08:51] CC: but I think that's nice anyway

[08:54] RS: | I sell |

[08:54] RS: | experiences | ? |

[08:54] RS: | Wait no |

[08:54] RS: | I sell things |

[08:54] RS: | Let's go with that |

[08:54] CC: Oh man you dodged a bullet there, I was about to be uh, INTRIGUED, if not slightly scared to ask further and worried sbout being rude

[08:55] CC: but thankfully, I have no such worry

[08:55] CC: I mean, does potential awkwardness count as a bullet??

[08:55] CC: it can be as painful. maybe. I don't know

[08:55] RS: | Haha | There are No Worries about being Rude | We are Practically Friends | After All | Is There any Closer Relationship | than Two Individuals | Sharing in Illegal Activity | ? |

[08:55] RS: | But | Yes | We Dodged a Bullet There |

[08:56] CC: Two individuals sharing in illegal activity and alcohol?

[08:57] CC: To greased interactions and limited inhibitions! and horrible hangovers, hopefully for someone whose papers you need to take a quick look at

[08:57] CC: oh, psh, negative's a strong word

[08:58] CC: it was only -three- broken windows

[08:58] CC: and nobody received any fatal injuries!

[09:01] RS: | Wait | Wait | I feel as If I should Clarify | These Papers should be Legitimate | ? |

[09:01] RS: | Ah |

[09:01] CC: I figured

[09:01] CC: that's why I said it's going to take me a bit

[09:01] RS: | I Mean | Obviously | Not LEGITIMATE | But |

[09:01] RS: | Oh | ! |

[09:01] CC: You want no death, and repeated no death

[09:01] CC: you need the works

[09:01] RS: | Forgive Me My Misapprehensions | This is My First Time Doing This Sort of Thing |

[09:01] CC: Oh, no problem

[09:01] CC: Always better to clarify

[09:02] CC: But no, I get it. These need to hold up when run through a system. This troll exists and always has, and they're the most legitimate flarper you've ever seen

[09:03] CC: so I'm going to need to at least do some copying

[09:03] CC: I'm a lot of things, but I can't exactly hand-reproduce an official league seal

[09:12] RS: | Have You Ever Considered | perhaps | a less Hazardous Line of Work |

[09:12] RS: | One that Does Not Sometimes Require Stabbing |

[09:12] RS: | Or Damaging Your Sniff Nobe | ? |

[09:12] CC: Sometimes I take some time off and - pfff, I really don't do much stabbing, not my thing, I told you that [:P

[09:12] CC: look

[09:12] CC: you made me stick out my tongue

[09:12] CC: and look ridiculous

[09:12] CC: this isn't how a proper businesstroll should act

[09:12] RS: | Hahaha |

[09:13] CC: you are encouraging me to debase behavior

[09:13] RS: | No | That is Rather Unprofessional | ! |

[09:13] RS: | A Hundred Apologies | My Good Mix |

[09:13] CC: I blame you for this terrible breach

[09:13] CC: but I accept your apologies

[09:13] RS: | | Given That I want to Buy From You | I suppose It is Rather Uncouth to Cast Aspersions on Your Choice of Work in the First Place |

[09:13] RS: | Rather Self-Defeating | ? | Haha |

[09:13] CC: Oh, please

[09:14] CC: you're not the first

[09:14] CC: some trolls hate having ot buy from me

[09:14] CC: *to

[09:14] CC: dang it

[09:14] CC: Believe it or not

[09:14] CC: I've served a few highbloods

[09:14] RS: | Your Fingers are Acting Against You | I Think |

[09:14] RS: | Oh | ? |

[09:14] RS: | | In What | ? |

[09:14] CC: And they tend to think they're too good for little old me

[09:14] CC: Oh, never seen a cerulean who offended a vengeful seadweller?

[09:14] CC: they're more than happy to try to pass as teal or something lower to get out of that mess

[09:21] RS: | Oh | Absolutely | The Highest Blood I have Encountered in a Personal Sense was Indigo |

[09:21] RS: | and the Entitlement of the Caste |

[09:21] RS: | Well |

[09:21] CC: It's quiiiite something

[09:21] RS: | I am Glad I do not Frequently Do Business with Seadwellers |

[09:21] CC: I can fully empathize

[09:22] CC: Our glorious soverigns are ah

[09:22] RS: | But | Yes | ! | speaking of Business |

[09:22] CC: well they're regal and all but

[09:22] CC: from a distance

[09:22] CC: behind a couple walls

[09:22] RS: | I Will Let You Get Back to Yours | If We Get on the Topic of Seadwellers |

[09:22] RS: | Well | =:) | I'm not Sure I am Liable to Stop | ! |

[09:22] RS: | Haha | Several Walls |

[09:22] RS: | And Perhaps a Large Metal Door as Well |

[09:24] CC: Oh, pshh, don't make things up, I can tell you're hardly green to the wide reaches yourself (with all due respect to our friendly neighborhood midbloods)

[09:25] CC: You know that's a good question!

[09:25] RS: | Green to the Wide Reaches | ? | My | What a Quaint Saying | =:) |

[09:25] CC: One that's usually answered by me getting kicked in the shins for being cheeky, because nobody likes an "uppity rust" [:'c

[09:26] CC: Hey, I've been around lots of quaint trolls, it's infectious!

[09:26] RS: | Oh | That's Dreadful | Do Try not to Take it Personally |

[09:26] RS: | I can Assure You |

[09:26] RS: | Everything Gets One Labelled as an Uppity Rust These Days | I'm Afraid |

[09:27] CC: Oh you are -not- kidding, I smiled at a green the other day, just to be polite, and she asked me 'who do you think you are'

[09:27] CC: um? A friendly person?

[09:27] RS: | Even Something so Menial as One's Horns Rising Above the Carpet When You Prostrate Yourself | Tsk |

[09:27] RS: | Hahaha | Oh | Heavens |

[09:27] CC: Oh lord

[09:28] CC: that sounds ridiculous, and yet, I can picture it

[09:28] RS: | There's Nothing Quite like an Olive Getting in a Snit Over One's Behaviour | Like | Honestly |

[09:28] RS: | They are Glorified Yellows | in Terms of Hue |

[09:28] CC: You are -so- right

[09:29] CC: though some of them don't even like to be called olives these days

[09:29] RS: | Is There Really Any Need for That Sort of Behaviour | ? | No |

[09:29] CC: 'I'm green can't you tell'

[09:29] RS: | Oh | ? |

[09:29] CC: um, no

[09:29] CC: no I can't tell

[09:29] RS: | Olive is Green |

[09:29] CC: I'm sorry my eyes can't make out individual chromes without a color picker

[09:29] CC: I know!!

[09:29] CC: 'no there's more blue in it'

[09:29] CC: they say

[09:29] CC: as anyone cares

[09:29] CC: *as if augh

[09:34] RS: | Haha | Yes | I Would Not Wish to Hold You Up Further | ! | Ah | You have My Handle |

[09:34] RS: | Have a Safe Journey |

[09:34] CC: I do! Interesting one

[09:34] RS: | Let Me Know When the Paperwork is Done | I suppose |

[09:34] CC: Thank you

[09:34] CC: Oh, certainly! Like I said

[09:34] RS: | | Or If You want to Hear Gossip About Our Superiors |

[09:34] CC: I'll keep you updated

[09:35] RS: | I suppose I can Dredge Up a Few Facts about Violets | Just For You | =:) |

[09:35] CC: I am ALWAYS down for gossip

[09:35] CC: Ohhhh, you are just the nicest

[09:35] CC: I feel like a right bronze with all this smooth talk

[09:35] CC: why can't all my customers be so friendly

[09:35] CC: alas!

[09:35] RS: | I don't Know | ! | It is a Shame | But If All of Your Customers were so Charming |

[09:36] RS: | I would Hardly Stand Out Then |

[09:36] CC: well this is -true-, gosh darn your logic

[09:36] RS: | So I can't Object | My Apologies | =:P |

[09:36] CC: Ohhh, well, I guess I'll have to let it pass [:P

[09:36] RS: | That Emoticon is Signifying My Tongue is Out | In an Emulation of Yours Before | By the Way |

[09:36] CC: oh my

[09:36] CC: you just know how to charm a troll into wanting to do your paperwork first, don't you??

[09:36] CC: Well sadly it's working!

[09:36] RS: | =:) |

[09:37] CC: Oh, regret!

[09:37] RS: | Hah | Well | Good Night | And Best of Luck | On Your Journey |

[09:37] RS: | And My Paperwork | =:) |

[09:37] -- refiningSpacetime [RS] ceased pestering carefreeCoverup [CC] at 21:37 --

[09:37] CC: Good evening, mystery customer, and may you come across more hot gossip to share

[09:37] -- carefreeCoverup [CC] ceased pestering refiningSpacetime [RS] at 21:37 --

[cloudbattrolls]

How Would someone go about requesting Nyzere's services?

They have a couple of handles on pesterchum under different bloodcolors! Their favored business one is a redblood handle called carefreeCoverup. They advertise both subtly (on regular sites) and more blatantly (on illegal ones, usually rebel sites because even though Nyzere isn’t an active rebel themselves, they tend to do business with them for obvious reasons). Their “official” chat-only handle is under an olive shade that’s a bit more legal than their own, and is serendipitousSojourn.