Her Imperious Condescension

Biggie C)(ungus

Shit shit shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

Ok, so maybe the roof collapsing was your fault.

But that doesn't mean it was on purpose! Ok, It was, but thats not the point.

Look back, run, look back, s h i t they're almost catching up. You leaped over a crate and landed neatly before sprinting again. Who leaves a crate overturned in the middle of a market place?? Someone could get seriously hurt! In a marketplace as crowded as this????

As you round a corner you topple a sign advertising weapons from the local Mustard Blood blacksmith, Keptik. Good kid. Can be counted on in a tight spot- terrible attitude though. The cloaked highblood guards continue chase, but stumble almost comically over each other to avoid the downed post.

"Hey, quit clownninn arounnd ya big yeets!!" You shout over your shoulder, and the enraged honks soon fade into the distance.

You dont stop running, though. Through the marketplace, down the leftmost alley, jump right over the outermost wall with the graffiti of the Signless and you're hive free.

Speaking of your hive, you're pretty sure the smoke billowing up is near it. It'd probably be best for you to go around and head for the Gorge- hang out until what you hope didn't happen blows over. If it happened. Which it didn't.

Good Gog you hope it didn't.

From your captcha card you bring out a lovely pair of hooks. Perfect for the use of hopping from tree to tree.

Yeah, the smoke is definitely somewhere near your house. You might've just left your Parasite Curator on. Yeah, it was probably that. Haha, you were so stupid sometimes.

You guess the Gorge plan would have to wait.

————-——————————————————

Nearing your hive, the smoke became impossible to ignore. Yeah, this- this wasn't caused by your Parasite Curator.

This was a started fire.

Oh Gog the guards must've found where you lived.

They'll try to get revenge for all the damage you've done.

You stop in one of the trees, breathing heavy from the exertion. Looks like all you've got are the rags on your back and the crap in your captchalogue. Pretty sick rags, mind you. A ratted cloak, boots and layered clothes are all the rage nowadays. Picking the Alternian dirt from the grooves of your boots sole, you tried to assess the situation.

You failed to assess the situation. You just couldn't understand. Had they found you? Had....

Stop nope nu uh we ain't goin there my dude nope in the past and that will remain there.

Time might be changed and traveled but it doesn't come back.

==> Renegade: check captchalogue for pilfered goods.

What goods? You already said all you had on you were the clothes on your back and the hooks in your hands!! You dont steal. Never have, never will. Thats all there is to say in the matter.

You do break property, though. Specifically whatever Highblood junk you can get your calloused little hands on.

Alrighty, enough waiting around for the breath you'll never get, time to put foot to branch.

You run out of trees to run to.

Theres your hive.

In flames.

Oh Gog it actually happened. All of the stuff you've worked so hard to keep, the home you've worked so hard to protect from drones and stragglers and stray Lusii.

The hive that many figures were currently standing in front of.

Amongst those figures was a tall troll, bedecked in jewelry and golden bands, radiating authority and a harsh power you've come to remember as familiar from the posters placed around the village squares.

A cruel, smiling face with hair longer than your probable life span, and horns reaching up to the sky in thin, elegant lines.

A face that held the features of the fuschia blood in power.

Yep. That building roof holding much of of this trolls fancys and gold was definitely not your fault.