#epsilo will do anything For Science

[cloudbattrolls]

Gratuitous Monster Fight

Claire’s Forest | Near Future | Two Supernatural Weirdos

The wind rustles the leaves on the forest’s branches, and small animals skitter unseen in the underbrush. Moonlight filters down between the trees, dappling the grass in green and pink. The distant lights of hives glow, signaling the presence of the few trolls who live among the greenery.

“This is INCREDIBLY stupid!”

The voice of someone both annoyed and for whatever reason, mightily offended, drifts up from some distance between the lights of the hives.

It belongs to Epsilo Volant, scientist and violetblood. Broad of body and face with wavy hair, his scowl could curdle milk and probably some cheese as well. His fins flick in agitation as he struggles with a piece of technology, pointing it and its long antennae in a dozen different directions.

“Why won’t it pick up the signal? I had everything calibrated properly.”

“Well, I’m no expert, but perhaps you made a mistake somewhere.”

The man bares his sharp teeth, both startled and annoyed by the sudden voice that belongs to someone he can’t see and had no idea was even there.

“Who are you? Show yourself.”

“What a forthright sort of fellow you are. You’re that BP chap who mods the server, if I’m not mistaken.”

“My name is Epsilo Volant.” He replies, less on guard but just as irate, putting the remote control away in his sylladex and getting out his harpoon. “I think I deserve yours in return. Come out where I can see you.”

He feels a breath on the back of his neck, but what troll has breath so chill and dry? A fellow seadweller’s would have more moisture in it. And why can’t he hear their breathing? How did they sneak up on him?

He steps forward and turns around, greeted by a wide grin of fangs sharper than his, all tapered to needle points without even any molars, and bright green pupils.

Then he blinks, annoyed at himself for how his hands tightened around his weapon. It’s just the jade from Claire’s party, and their teeth can’t really be that sharp. He must be seeing things.

Yet their eyes are undoubtedly odd.

“Just call me Tuuya.” They say, examining their claws as if bored by him. “Everyone else does.”

“Well, mix Tuuya - ” He says, not bothering to hide his disdain. “ - why are you hanging around offering unwanted commentary on my work?”

“Oh, I was just coming over to visit Claire, but I saw you puttering about and I was curious! What were you up to, I asked myself? Something devious, or something helpful?”

“I’m testing the range of a tracker for the Enkeli child. I need to focus on that. Good night.”

As they shrug and turn to go, the wind blows especially hard and the jade’s lean frame is pushed forward just enough to tip them over a protruding tree root and into a low hanging branch.

They pop back up again almost immediately, clicking their tongue, then notice the seadweller staring at them.

Their face, which as they run a hand over it, realize is cut open and showing the tips of white, gleaming worms. They quickly cover them with a palm.

“It’s none of your business?”

They try, tone far more hopeful than it is forceful.

“What is that?” The seadweller says, attention now fully focused on them.

“Absolutely nothing.” They go on in the same halfhearted tone of denial.

“It was white. It didn’t move like blood, either. Are you a mutant?”

They snort.

“If only. Look, I know you’re a science lad, but trust me when I say you’ll be happier not knowing.”

There’s a light of curiosity in the violet’s eyes, in the arch of his fins, his posture as he holds the harpoon. Tuuya’s seen that look on countless faces throughout the sweeps, and they sigh again.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you. You do realize Claire knows me, she won’t be happy if you attack me.”

“I just need a sample.” He replies, all superior confidence. “If you give it to me, we can end this peacefully.”

“Well, at least you ask. That puts you a rung above the medic, I suppose. Answer’s still no.”

They leap out of the way from where the harpoon would’ve taken the rainbow drinker in the chest, and it impales itself halfway through their arm instead. They rip it out with their other one and shove it in the ground hard enough to send dirt flying in a geyser.

Worms drop from the wound, and Tuuya leaps for the boy -

The animal, silvery gray with pinkish violet fins growing from its body, snaps at them with slavering jaws. They skid, narrowly avoiding the chomping teeth, and laugh as they leap up and land on a tree branch.

“Aren’t you something! I wasn’t sure the were-kind still walked Alternia. I’m surprised no one’s taken a sample from you.”

The huge hyena - much bigger than any non lusus kind they’ve ever seen - rears up on its hind legs and puts its front paws against their tree, glaring up at them with violet eyes.

“In the spirit of fairness, I’ll admit I am a rainbow drinker. And I’m far more trouble than you’re worth. I’d rather not get a hangnail whacking you for being naughty, so change back and walk away now. Last chance.”

The wound in their arm is annoying, as was losing some worms, but it’s already closing - they drank blood before they came.

Epsilo responds by jumping up and breaking their branch with a swat of his paws, and both fall with a mighty thud.

Tuuya gets whacked in the face by the broken branch as they land, allowing the werebeast to pin them in the chest with a heavy paw. Epsilo puts his other one on their wounded arm as he bares his teeth, breath smelling of fish as the disoriented drinker blinks and shakes their head.

“Get some mints, dear.”

Then they focus, smiling as worms swarm from the half-healed harpoon gash and chew through the furry leg, swarming over to the other, as the feliform chitters in pain and confusion. He shakes his legs in a vain attempt to get the parasites off -

Tuuya shoves their wounded arm down his throat, rearranging the worms inside them to narrow its form to fit, choking the creature. 

“Bad kitty. Stop, and I won’t put them inside you.”

He bites off their arm in response, chews it up, and tosses it away. Then he retches.

The drinker jumps to their feet and hisses, flaring their glow on blindingly bright. As he retches and whines, eyes shut tightly, they tackle him. With one arm, it’s not so effective - but his front legs weaken as the worms relentlessly chew through skin and muscle, almost down to the bone now.

The striped beast falls back into the grass, and the drinker plants a foot on him.

“You’re going to stop now, before I start ripping parts out of you, and unlike me, you don’t grow them back. I can stop eating into your flesh any time. Just give me some sort of sign you surrender.”

A silence passes in which he opens his eyes to glare at them hatefully, and violet blood soaks his fur, running into his chest and onto the grass.

Finally he looks away, huffing softly.

The drinker’s worms flow back into them in a squirming mass. The ones wriggling at their damaged clavicle reproduce rapidly - more and more worms split off, weaving around each other to form facsimiles of muscles and joints. Bone regrows from the spot, rebuilding in rapid rows of cells. Once those form, dark gray skin begins to coalesce over them. A cover for the parasites, protection from the elements. 

A semblance of trollhood.

The werehyena changes back, arms still bleeding and clothes ripped. Tuuya takes some bandages out of their sylladex and holds them out.

Epsilo flinches back at the gesture, then looks annoyed and sullen.

“You do not frighten me.”

They give him a sardonic smile, laying the bandages down on the grass and stepping back.

He takes out his own, and they raise a finger.

“Are yours specially treated to stop and disinfect drinker-inflicted blood flow? Use mine, boy. I keep them for idiots like you.”

“Why are you helping me? To cover your tracks? This could be a trick.”

He reaches for them anyway with careful movements, clearly trying to not let on how much it hurts.

“It could.” The drinker agrees. “But it’s not. I don’t care if you tell Claire anyway - she knows what I am. I wonder, does she know what you are?”

The flattening of his fins is all the answer they need.

“Ah, so you don’t trust her. Cheer up - at least you’re a real troll some of the time. I can only do a fabulous impression.”

“What are you?” He asks, applying the bandages to his wounds and immediately giving a soft sigh in relief. Tuuya has to admire his stubbornness, cursing it at the same time.

“A drinker parasite swarm that acts like a troll.” They reply, examining their newly-formed claws again. Good, everything grew back properly. 

They’re thirsty, though. Volant’s beast blood was just barely usable, given he’s a shapeshifter, but not as good as if he’d been in troll form.

“That’s all you get, I’m afraid. I’m very bored of being studied these nights. I could be playing lusus passing instead, which is so much more fun.”

His look of blank befuddlement makes the worm monster laugh.

“What? It’s a grand old time. Give it a go!”

“You make no sense.” He mutters, wrapping more bandages around himself.

“I don’t have to.” They retort breezily. “I’m almost two hundred, I got a pardon for it.”

“You don’t need to keep up a troll facade. Why bother now?”

“Blood’s not the only thing I think about, goodness. You do smell delicious, though.”

He shudders but bares his teeth.

“Don’t even try it.”

They walk over, arms crossed, needle teeth showing in a wide grin, and look down at the sitting troll, wounded.

They lower themself, crouching, only a foot from him. His fins are pinned against his head even as he keeps his fangs bared.

“I could rip open your throat and drink you until there was nothing left but a shriveled carcass to feed the roots.” They say, voice soft and almost gentle, if it weren’t for the edge of it; a sharpness that could slice through solid rock. 

“I could eat you from the inside out, have you watch your own body wither before your very eyes, helpless to do anything but bleed.”

Their voice switches to a more normal speaking tone.

“But I’m not going to do that, because you’re just a stupid boy, and hopefully this was a valuable learning experience, hmm?”

He only nods.

“Good! I’m glad we’re on the same page. Get yourself cleaned up, you’re lucky there’s no native predators in these woods.”

The big seadweller mutters something about invasive species, and the drinker has to laugh.

[cloudbattrolls]

Repaid

Epsilo Volant || Location Unknown || Present Night

You wake up with a dry taste in your mouth, feeling your gills cry out for water. What did you do? Your thinkpan struggles to knit the past together with the present, searching blurry memories for an explanation while your body aches.

One sticky eyelid opens, and then the other, and you realize you’re chained not by metal, but by shimmering blue energy bonds to a metal wall.

A whole metal cell, actually. Scarcely big enough for you to stand and walk around in.

Someone has stripped your usual clothing and replaced it with uniform gray imperial-issue garments. They’re scratchy, especially against your tender dehydrated skin.

As awareness slowly dawns you suck in a deep breath. Stay calm, Epsilo. Likely your captor - or captors - want you to panic, make a fool of yourself.

Not again. You’re never giving anyone a chance to make a fool of you ever again.

With difficulty you manage to stand up. The bonds have enough slack for you to walk around your cramped space, but no further. You can’t see a door out anyway, though there are vents in the dull gray walls. Otherwise, it seems like a solid cube of shining gray metal, with a table, a restroom off the side, and a trashcan.

Claire’s forest, you remember. Talula had recovered - aside from her missing eye, but trying to replace it now when she’s constantly growing would cause issues, so you hadn’t - and you had left, intending to tell Truour you were done with the server and were going to remove its protection. They were on their bloody own, the ungrateful wretches.

The moment you’d stepped outside the trees, blackness.

You’re not dead, so it’s been less than a perigee, and you don’t seem to have lost much weight, if any. Your hair also doesn’t seem to have grown, though you can feel stubble on your cheeks. You decide you’ve been unconscious for perhaps a few nights, likely less.

“Ah, you’re awake, Mr. Volant. Have some breakfast.”

A plate with a generous portion of shrimp, kippers, and fruit appears on the table as a voice that sounds like it’s speaking in your ear washes over your cell. There’s no obvious speakers, and it’s far too clear to be coming through the vents.

Your eyes narrow. This must be teleportation, but so seamless; no sparks or haze, no air disturbance aside from the slight breeze when the plate appeared.

You don’t touch it, ignoring the hunger in your digestion sac as the odors of your favorite foods waft toward you. How stupid does this person think you are?

“Go on. Starving yourself is useless.”

The voice is male, you think, and has an oily quality to it. Definitely adult.

“If I wanted to poison or drug you, I’d just do it. Eat.”

You don’t move.

“EAT.”

Several blades and guns unfold from the metal walls as the word repeats and point themselves directly at your head. Within seconds you’re shoving food in your mouth so quickly you hardly taste it.

“Slow down! What’re you in such a rush for? Did your lusus never teach you manners?”

The voice chuckles like that’s the funniest thing it’s ever said as your dry throat gets a little relief from the moisture in the food, but swallowing is still difficult.

“I bet you’re dying to know why you’re my guest, boy. I admit - I almost killed you for all the trouble you’ve put me through. I almost decided you weren’t worth it, and it’d be easier to loot your hive until I found what I needed. But then I remembered what a sneaky little guppy you are, and that you’d probably hidden it somewhere stupid.”

You should be afraid. Instead your fins flick back and forth in irritation.

Tetrao Coloth.

Nevine was right; he really likes to hear himself speak.

Looking for an escape is pointless, for the moment. A check of your sylladex finds it cracked open and empty, as you suspected it would be.  But if you can keep this windbag talking…

“Was forcing me out of my hive not enough?”

You rasp, having finished your meal. It hurts a bit.

“Not for sheltering a runaway! You should have turned him over as soon as he got there and spilled his guts. That’s your fault, Volant; thinking you could cross me and get away with it. Would you let someone do the same to you?”

A bitter, dry laugh broken by coughs sputters from you.

“I haven’t had a choice lately.”

“Then you’re an excuse of a violet. Letting other trolls think they can disrespect you…what’s the point of living, if you’re that weak? I’m disappointed. Seems you’re nothing without a fuchsia behind you. Or in your recuperacoon.”

“Leave her out of it.”

The words come dragged from your parched tongue, your aching throat, quietly furious.

“Sounds like you need to get laid! I guess it’s hard times for flush these nights, puberty was not kind to you. You haven’t even fixed up your ugly fin.”

Snorting in laughter hurts. You do it anyway.

What a petty fool. Were you honestly intimidated by someone so immature for his fifty sweeps?

The situation may be grim, but if Coloth is such a wriggler, he can’t be that hard to outwit.

A hand grips your ripped fin from behind, tight, and you flinch.

“I could do it for you right now.” purrs the same voice, now actually inches from your ear.

His claws dig into the membrane and your face contorts. You mustn’t cry out. You cannot -

He tears it off and you scream.

Cold violet blood, high enough it’s almost fuchsia, washes down your head and hair, your neck. It stains the dull gray clothing and drips down your side and chest onto the floor as you watch.

You want to curl up on the floor, but the restraints have locked in place. You can’t move. You can only stand there.

Tetrao chuckles and moves around to the front of you. Blearily, you can see he only ripped off the torn section, the gray skin and bloodied dull violet webbing lying on his hand like a dead thing. Why?

“I hate ugly things.” He says, casual as if the two of you were discussing the weather. “In this night and age of science, there’s no reason for anything to look imperfect, even if it is. You have such talent, but can anyone tell? No! You look like an idiot. Talk like one too. ‘I’m Epsilo Volant! People will think I’m smart if I use enough big words!’”

He walks around the cell - throwing your fin piece in the trash - as he does an inaccurate singsong impression of you, which is easier for him; the man is at least a head shorter than you are. His hair lies in a side plaited ponytail, shiny with product. His fins have ripple-like edges to them, their violet a few hues lower than your own.

He’s bedecked with jewelry that all seems to have a technological function - tiny screens and LED lights adorn practically all of his bracelets and rings.

Body-wise, he reminds you of a slightly thicker Truour; wide hips like your kismesis’s but a little softer in the middle, with a crop top and shorts so that his torso gills - healthy and bright unlike yours - are shown off, along with a great deal of middling gray skin.

Truour, you realize with a jolt. What will he think when you don’t answer his texts? He shouldn’t come looking for you. He’s too important for Coloth to kill, but he could still make things very difficult if he interferes.

Plus, with the teleportation involved, you could be anywhere. Coloth might not even be keeping you in Civitrecce; it’s the most obvious place to look.

“Right, right, I got distracted - fun as this has been, I need you to come clean about where you’ve been keeping the scale. Don’t bother pretending; I know you still have it. You’d never let that go.”

His fingers, the claws painted gold and violet, caress your wounded fin and you shudder, but look him resolutely in his amused eyes.

“I can take you apart until you cough up. You’ve done it to so many other people; it’d be a spicy little switcharoo.”

“And then I’d die? Just kill me now.” You try to snarl, but it’s shaky and disgustingly weak, the pain of your injury throbbing with every word.

The older highblood smiles at you with mild, indulgent condescension, the same way someone might at a pet that just did something stupid and adorable.

“You won’t die after you tell me. I have other plans for you.”

He checks a silver bracelet that must be some sort of watch, though you can see nothing. His eyes light up with what must be implants - tiny teal lights glowing in a circle inside the iris.

“It’s been great catching up, but I have other things to do. I’ll be back after you’re in the mood to chat.”

He vanishes and your restraints unlock, allowing you to move, but the weapons slide out of the cell’s walls again.

You grit your teeth as they descend on you, whirring and buzzing with the intent to cut you open as you've done to hundreds of trolls before.