Post by Ichor on Nov 25, 2020 17:44:28 GMT -5
"You have. You told me you wouldn't become an Us, and stayed a Them. The Them get buried." The words rumble from Vermin's snout, and he's showing his teeth, clearly on edge despite being surrounded by at least dozens of his peers.
"That's... dumb! You ain't right in the head, y'hear? All I did was say I didn't wanna join 'ya! I'm happy in my city. I ain't good at anythin' but buildin'. I named myself after my one Old World memory of a guy who did a lot of buildin' and could fix anything. I just... I didn't wanna leave all my work behind. I didn't hurt 'ya! And I never would!" B's voice cracks and frays near the end, breaking into a low wail. She beats at the sides of the long, cylindrical tunnel she's sitting at the bottom of.
Vermin snarls and backs away from the opening. "That's not true. EVERYONE has the hurt inside them. The only ones you can trust are the US, and you denied me on being an US." The hair on the back of his nape stands on end, looking almost like a porcupine's spines. He takes a step back, and then another. "Bury this one FASTER."
"Stop! STOP! I don't want this. I don't wanna be buried! I didn't do anythin'! I build and I build and I build and I do it for other people for nothing and I try to be so... I try to be a good blob, and I don't think I deserve this!" B claws upwards, digging her feathered arms into the concrete's pores and trying to pull herself up.
One of the Braves in B's circle steps back. "No. I can't do this anymore - I can't do this while she's down there screaming like that. It feels... wrong. This is wrong. That blobling with the poffdula in its face was right to leave when they did." They step backwards, and to their surprise, several other Braves break formation and join them.
---
The floppy-eared Brave wades slowly towards you, clearly unsure of itself. It's meandered into the middle of the battlefield by now, but its expression is one of indecision, its white eyes steeped in anxiety. It bites its lip and gasps audibly when one of the soon-to-be Buried blobs falls and begins leaking out into the sand.
"Should I... I dunno... I don't want to disobey orders, but this also feels really wrong and I... should I help them?" Their voice is soft and level, and they roll back and forth, clearly unsure of which path to take.
It is now admiral's turn.
"That's... dumb! You ain't right in the head, y'hear? All I did was say I didn't wanna join 'ya! I'm happy in my city. I ain't good at anythin' but buildin'. I named myself after my one Old World memory of a guy who did a lot of buildin' and could fix anything. I just... I didn't wanna leave all my work behind. I didn't hurt 'ya! And I never would!" B's voice cracks and frays near the end, breaking into a low wail. She beats at the sides of the long, cylindrical tunnel she's sitting at the bottom of.
Vermin snarls and backs away from the opening. "That's not true. EVERYONE has the hurt inside them. The only ones you can trust are the US, and you denied me on being an US." The hair on the back of his nape stands on end, looking almost like a porcupine's spines. He takes a step back, and then another. "Bury this one FASTER."
"Stop! STOP! I don't want this. I don't wanna be buried! I didn't do anythin'! I build and I build and I build and I do it for other people for nothing and I try to be so... I try to be a good blob, and I don't think I deserve this!" B claws upwards, digging her feathered arms into the concrete's pores and trying to pull herself up.
One of the Braves in B's circle steps back. "No. I can't do this anymore - I can't do this while she's down there screaming like that. It feels... wrong. This is wrong. That blobling with the poffdula in its face was right to leave when they did." They step backwards, and to their surprise, several other Braves break formation and join them.
---
The floppy-eared Brave wades slowly towards you, clearly unsure of itself. It's meandered into the middle of the battlefield by now, but its expression is one of indecision, its white eyes steeped in anxiety. It bites its lip and gasps audibly when one of the soon-to-be Buried blobs falls and begins leaking out into the sand.
"Should I... I dunno... I don't want to disobey orders, but this also feels really wrong and I... should I help them?" Their voice is soft and level, and they roll back and forth, clearly unsure of which path to take.
It is now admiral's turn.
3 tiles 
1 Success 
-1 DMG 
13HP 
10 DMG 
3d6 
1d6
