Life Continues

Fee Fi Foo Fum

5th of Ashan 718

Here are all threads from before the Fall of Emea in 719 and all threads pertaining to the Fall. As of Ymiden 719 (1st June 2019), this forum is locked for new threads and is a repository for old content.

Moderator: Staff

User avatar
Robin Stark
Approved Character
Posts: 283
Joined: Wed May 24, 2017 11:06 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Guard
Renown: 5
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Life Continues

5th Ashan 718
A baby seal, a tiny anthropomorphic mushroom, and a trolley filled with taxidermied dolphin heads flopped/wobbled/rolled into a bar.

The baby seal’s name was Robin Stark. He was a glorious specimen of his kind, of fucking course. Eyes as big as the moon and fur that shimmered with a soft silver light. Heads turned and people whispered, because it wasn’t any regular baby seal. It was a baby harp seal, straight from the pure Arctic lands and basically a god compared to the drunk human flesh bags littered across the bar. Some shielded their eyes at the light, some averted their gaze, their self-esteem too low to match a stare with this wonderfully fit pinniped deity. A few posers even scratched out their eyes, unable to bear a beauty they would never possess. None of this was noticed, for all eyes were on the tiny baby seal called Robin Stark who was also, inexplicably, a master of the elements and a volatile bisexual. The latter was less surprising as any modern zoologist in a respected marine menagerie knows that seals are inherently flexible concerning their sexuality.

Such was both his blessing and curse.

The baby seal, grace incarnate, flopped against the bar in a desperate attempt to push himself onto a stool. His flippers gripped against the old, chipped bar as he balanced himself. “Chirp,” he said, demanding attention of his lessers and requesting the finest liquors they could serve him and the mushroom. The bartender fell to his knees and broke down in ugly, flesh tears. Pitiful creatures, all of them and yet he was struck with a sudden jealousy. What must they think, confronted with the likes of he? Robin could never know, not truly, as his reality was the only one he knew.

He was alone in the world. Unique.

Perfect and proud of it.

“Chirp,” he said, issuing an order to the trolley of taxidermied dolphin heads. “Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.”

The Trolley of Dolphin Heads didn’t respond. It swayed slightly against the table, as if unable to find a grip - or slightly too cool to use one.

Strong and silent type? Shrug. Its loss. Still, he felt some trepidation when looking upon that decapitated dolphin visage. As if there was some hidden, secret perversion about it he couldn’t place his flipper on...

The bartender approached -- he was nervous. “Chirp,” Robin offered kindly, his words cascading into something approaching a lecture. There was little he could do to solve the man’s most inherent issues, namely his mortality and his ugly face and his waistline and the fact that he lived and breathed the same air that Robin inhaled and that he was, ultimately, kind of a human wanker, but he could offer him words to soothe and calm. Respect was all he was required to show. No fear today. “Chirp.”
word count: 484
User avatar
Robin Stark
Approved Character
Posts: 283
Joined: Wed May 24, 2017 11:06 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Guard
Renown: 5
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Life Continues

“W-what can I g-get you?”

“Chirp.”

“I d-didn’t g-get that, sir.”

Robin narrowed his huge seal eyes.

“Shroom,” a voice next to him offered helpfully. “Shroom. Shroom. Shroom.


“G-got it. Many thanks, wise mushroom.” The bartender bowed low and thought it may have seemed like an exaggeration to some, those in the know knew the mushroom had saved the bartender from a grisly decapitation.

“Chirp,” Robin sighed, his words betraying his annoyance. It was the same, again and again. He inspired the people so much, his visage so holy, so impressive, it was hard to carry a conversation with even the bravest mortals. “Chirp, chirp, chirp,” he said to the mushroom called Fiona, the only friend he’d had since he’d left his tundran paradise.

Fiona was beautiful in a way only a mushroom could be beautiful: incredibly stubby, Her huge cap glistened with fertile potency, and the cute caricature of a happy face plastered the front of her stump before the cap was, uh, well, it looked happy if nothing else. The happy face had been the seal’s idea. True art.

“Shroom.” she reproached. “Shroom Shroom.”

And that was their friendship in so many words. They waxed poetic for hours, days even, neither needing sleep or much in the way of food. She, explaining the finer rituals of fungal conversation and him always quick with keen observation about the intricacies of pinniped metaphysics and how it continued to impact the lives of even the stupid too-long humans and their stupid stupidness.

“Shroom.” Fiona said, nudging her cap towards the approaching bartender. “Shroom. Shroom.”

The bartender was clever this time around -- or at least, he remembered what exactly sat at his bar. Eyes to the ground, he careful walked, not quickly, with two drinks in hand. They shimmered under the dusty lamplight, a concoction of what Robin hoped was sea water and spirited kelp-and-salmon. He killed the last idiot who’d thought he would drink something so vile as champagne.

“Shroom?”

“Chirp.”

Fiona nodded solemnly. A bloodbath had been narrowly averted. No lives would be taken today… at least for the time being.

“Shroom Shroom Shroom.” She added. It was a legitimate concern. He kept a low profile, it was true, but stopping by the bar with Fiona and his hired mercenary the Trolley of Taxidermied Dolphin Heads, was a risk. A risk of pleasure, perhaps, but still a risk. They would have to be quick about it before someone noticed.

“Chirp,” he waved a flipper dismissively.

“Shroom Shroom.” she retorted. He ignored that. One day, he would have to show her her place, but for now…

“Chirp.”

“Shroomy,” her voice carried a small smile as the glass spilled the liquid on her cap. Robin was careful to remember the mushroom was no small power. She was a creature of stemmed intelligence, bred and interbred into the fungus that rooted into the chair besides him today. It wasn’t for nothing that the Capped Rotting Tree Bark were one of the most famous intelligence groups working today.

“Chirp.” He found himself keeping his eyes on her just a trill longer than he should have. She had carried him far with what she knew, true, but she was first and foremost a spy. A spy that preferred the damp piece of wood to the field any day but a spy nonetheless.

“Shroom Shroom.”

Such wise words. Fiona, spy, friend, dragon tamer, water polo enthusiast, secret demon god of a 2nd-rate prophecy down on that continent with kings and queens, otter hunter, seeker of the dark, and the biggest clothing retailer this side of Idalos, but she was an artist first and foremost. A poet, a talent that could even -- on her best days -- be compared to the great seals of his home.

He would never say it to his kinsman, of course. They would be roused from the tundra torpor to tear apart this mere fungus who considered her their equal.
word count: 672
User avatar
Robin Stark
Approved Character
Posts: 283
Joined: Wed May 24, 2017 11:06 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Guard
Renown: 5
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Life Continues

“Chirp Chirp.”

“Shroom.”
He nodded again. Pleasure aside, they were here to meet a man named Fruit Jackson for a weapons deal. Fruit was one of the leading bowblades suppliers in this part of the world, boasting everything from the classic T-19 series to the yet unreleased Super Mega Ultimate Karem deluxe. He gave to both sides of wars and always came out on top. Some say he even funded the ongoing war between the lesser Immortals, that even Aeva came to him for smithing advice and Syroa used his bowblades as props for her personal theatre, so lifelike they were, so steeped in quality that she couldn’t resist.

One more detail: he was also a tiny kiwi.

“Shroom Shroom.”

“Chirp,” he protested, a touch of anger in his tone. He was a racist. It was true, but he was able to comport himself in matters of business. Though birds didn’t deserve any amount of respect, he would give him at least enough respect due to even the most crippled, skinniest of seals. He wouldn’t be anything less than professional.

“Shroom?” she asked.

“Chirp.” he promised. He could always kill the kiwi after the deal, he thought.

“Shroom.” Huh, guess she saw that too.

“Chirp Chirp.” he said, reframing his promise. Fruit Jackson would live to sell another day.

Unless he pulled something stupid. Well, not stupid, since he was a seal. Improvised would be a better word.

They sat there for a period of time, Mushroom and Seal and Trolley with taxidermied dolphin heads just sipping at their drinks - well, no, only he was sipping. Fiona was content to wobble along in her seat, drawing in the energy of the fungalverse to fuel whatever twisted biology a magical anthropomorphic mushroom ran on. The Trolley of Taxidermied dolphin heads was, as ever, silent.

There was a thin line between professional and anti-social. The Trolley of Taxidermied dolphin heads was, frankly, crossing it. There was even one moment where it fell down a slope and if Robin didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was helpless to stop its wild descent - but Robin did know better. It was a trained killer with thousands of kills.

It was testing them.

No matter. The contract would be finished soon.
word count: 384
User avatar
Zip
Approved Character
Posts: 782
Joined: Sat May 13, 2017 9:14 am
Race: Human
Profession: Professional Scowler
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 6

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Life Continues

If you watch anthropomorphic animals -and horny fungi and Trolleys equipped with an astonishing number of taxidermied dolphin heads- for any length of time, you will be driven to the conclusion that, aside from passing on their genes and singing in musicals and having weird off-species relationships and being obnoxiously photogenic-

The main driving force of the anthropomorphic animal is to get, in two simple words, completely rekt’ed.

Drugs, not evolutionary drive, was the true name of the game.

And there were those who worked to support the economy of failed bards and child theatre stars who hadn’t grown into their features as well as they’d hoped. Robin has spent his life so far marveling and being worshipped. He sang and had an on-off affair with cocaine. They each had their responsibilities and his was to work a job once every few years, or at least make a good effort before he quit or lucked his way into a traveling theater group.

They called him a B-list theatre thespian.

He called himself, well, well-to-do. Happy with his lot in life.

So very happy.

At least happier than that flea-bitten Martha. Fucking Martha. She lucked her way into the right ensemble, with fucking penguins no less, and re-built one or two bridges he may have burned, but whatever because he was out her traveling the world, seeing the sights, and all she had was his ex and only three thezies -- fucking unbelievable -- and some stupid glacier side den that would keep well into the nice ice age if she was lucky.

Seals above, he was so happy. Seals below, he was joyous beyond all possible merit.

“Shroom?”

Robin sighed, his saucer-wide eyes looking at the slouching horned mushroom. They’d spent too long together. He rolled over on his side, the pillows soft and silk, but he couldn’t get comfortable. His whiskers caught on the fabric and he sneezed. Maybe he was allergic. “Chirp,” he muttered, missing the salt and the sea of his home.

“Shroom.” She pressed the tip of her cap against his black whiskery seal nose. “Shroom shroom.”

They’d fallen into the fiery depths of passion over their first job. Seal, it had been a wild adventure of dodging deaths and strangling a few kiwis. Even know, he could bring a smile to his face thinking of the birds squawking and squealing, desperate for their last breath and --

“Shroom.”

“Chirp.”

“Shroom.”

Was this really the Fiona he’d loved once? One word answers and dull routines? Was this truly the woman who’d crushed the Mizar kingdom and their illustrious leader? Who’d poisoned the butterfly queen and fed her caterpillars to the saltlake gatordrakes? Who summoned the inverted Syroa from the wish dimension to bring balance to the very concept of lust? Had they’d really once gone toe-to-toe against the weird dog with another dog tied to a leash and lived? Had they then barbecued a catdog and found out where the thing pooped from?

He sighed, remembering. Perhaps all he had left were his memories, memories of a life that was richly led and now remained-

Safe.

The word he was going to use was safe.

Not stagnant, no sir. Not boring, nope. Not lame or tedious or tiring or banal or crap or-

He was happy. Again, he said he was happy. He was happy, he was happy, he was happy, he was happy, he was-
word count: 587
ImageImageImage
User avatar
Zip
Approved Character
Posts: 782
Joined: Sat May 13, 2017 9:14 am
Race: Human
Profession: Professional Scowler
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 6

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Life Continues

“Shroom shroom.”

Even she could see that something was troubling him.

“Chirp?”

“Shroom.” Of course she fucking remembered Jerrod. The stealthy badger who’d screwed them -- literally and figuratively, because he was a seal after all -- over at their last job. The golden pears and the Cheshire diamond. Big scores, and if they hadn’t ended up tied to a tree and drunk, prizes to win him a better den than fucking Martha could ever dream of, the stupid asshole.

“Chirp?” And he knew the answer was yes. Fiona was growing older, dying in the way of all fungi -- she slumped now, rooted to the bed frame, her colors fading as she slowly collapsed. He promised he would stay with her, but finding Jerrod was something an obession. And not just for him -- older or not, she was a spy. A mushroom spy, dammit, and one of the best. She kept up with Jerrod, if only by hearsay and rumor. Maybe the could find the lost treasure of Rharne after all.

“...Chirp? Chirp,” he tried, his voice quivering with something close to desperation. The treasure was their key into the epsilon of Arctic culture and society. The Tundra would gear them and then welcome them back in a chorus of cocaine riddled harp seals. A true orchestra, something the president hadn’t bothered to put together for years. They couldn’t afford the expenditures, not with the late freeze taking the last few cocaine harvests.

He needed to convince her.

He needed a yes.

Robin was happy, he was content. He could be happier, though. Couldn’t Fiona? Wasn’t there anything she wanted for?

“Shroom.”

He was touched. But no, love wasn’t enough. Love was never enough for the reality they lived in.

“Chirp.”

“Shroom Shroom.”

“Chirp!”

“Shroom!”

How could she say that? How could she think so low when her reach could have been so high. How the cruel touch of age touched even the greatest of super spy adventure mushrooms. How the caprice of flowing time ailed even the most brilliant minds. He was thankful he didn’t have kids; their fungal seal wonder children would have thought their mother so weak, so unworthy of being a rolemodel.

No, he had to convince her.

“Chirp.”

“Shroom.”

“Chirp.”

“Shroom.”

Some headway at least. She was beginning to see his point of view, if nothing else. He could feel the fungal fire inside her, that sheer will that had drawn him to her igniting once more. Maybe they could even go find the Trolley with Taxidermied Dolphin Heads to reunite the trio. Sure, three was a crowd, but the Trolley with Taxidermied Dolphin Heads had always been a very agreeable, silent presence. Sometimes he even believed he wasn’t even alive… what a foolish thought, and what a cruel thing to think about a dear friend.

“Chirp.”

“Shroom shroom.”

“Chirp.” He leaned in, pressing his snout to her cap. It was faded now, the red in her toadstool cap. She didn’t recoil or brush him off but she didn’t lean in either.

“Shroom.” There was wetness in her eyes -- oh wait, no, he’d smudged the painting of the smiley face he’d done all those years ago and he reminded himself he’d have to retouch it -- and she shook. She shook weakly. “Shroom.”

He knew.

He knew better than most.
word count: 566
ImageImageImage
User avatar
Zip
Approved Character
Posts: 782
Joined: Sat May 13, 2017 9:14 am
Race: Human
Profession: Professional Scowler
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 6

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Life Continues

They arrived at the Finnport in the morning.

Finns big and small, fat and fatter, gormless and whatever the word for even more gormless, lurked around the area, their huge slug-like bodies pinned -nay impaled- into the harbor to keep them from wandering off and getting their much cuter, much more sympathetic sisters killed. Robin held Fiona’s… well, he laid his flipper on her cap as they flopped/wobbled along to the check-in hall. They didn’t bring any luggage beyond the huge, oversized winter coats on their back, for they were creatures of the wild, and didn’t need anything more than their bloodlust, their near-xenophobic cruelty for everyone else that wasn’t them, their vast network of assassins around the globe and, of course, the strength of their noble spirits.

What else could they need? Overpacking was for humans and squirrels.

“Shroom.”

“Chirp.”

“Shroom Shroom.” She nodded. It was as if so many of the years that had taken away her strength had been given back to her in the blink of an eye. All she needed was a purpose, a means to tackle it, and the will to carry on with the remainder of her life. What wonders could they perform in their old age? What last adventures could they have in the land where he was born, raised, and-

Would die. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe - it almost sounded like a cherished hope.

Clutching her toadstool hard and never looking back, they took a step through the finn docks just as an old man preached to the other tiny animals about the dangers of letting mother nature flounder any further, that all over Idalos charismatic animals that had once been numerous were now beginning to disappear. The Hyx, once numerous around every single inch of Etzos for some reason, was now undeniably extinct. In Rynmere, there were less than two Venoras. Wherever you looked, he told the tiny animals, there were populations of animals that had dwindled rapidly over the arcs. Mother Moseke was in grave danger from the ravages of what was being done to the world.

They responded by baring their teeth, pouncing on him, and tearing him to pieces while he continued to narrate his wish for a better world. Robin looked back at the spectacle and looked away just as quickly.

He wasn’t worth the attention given to him in that split trill.
word count: 405
ImageImageImage
User avatar
Whisper
Peer Reviewer
Peer Reviewer
Posts: 1779
Joined: Thu Feb 05, 2015 10:36 pm
Race: Prophet
Profession: Storyteller
Renown: 394
Plot Notes
Office
Partner
Personal Journal
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Staff

Miscellaneous

Events

Life Continues

Image
Robin Stark


Awarded Points

15
These points can/cannot be spent in magic


Awarded Knowledge

None


Awarded Extras

Loot & Losses Injuries
None None
Renown Devotion
None None
[/color]


Zipper


Awarded Points

15
These points can/cannot be spent in magic


Awarded Knowledge

None


Awarded Extras

Loot & Losses Injuries
None None
Renown Devotion
None None
[/color]




Comments

I... I dunno guys. What just happened? I... I suppose I enjoyed it, despite not having a clue what was going on! I smiled, the description alone was enough to paint such a lovely picture :)

One thing - I was already aware that you guys write elsewhere and then block post here for easy fluidity, but can I suggest you keep a note of that in your review requests, only in case new reviewers are coming along and get confused? Thanks!

P.S. What noise do seals actually make? I'ma google it!


If you have any questions, comments or criticism about your review, feel free to send me a PM and we can discuss it.
Thank ye.
word count: 173
Post Reply Request an XP Review Claim Wealth Thread

Return to “The Fall & Before”