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☆ Make only as many characters as you can handle.

☆ Plot Space-Bunnies ☆

☆ The Man and The Woman summon their victims chosen ones

☆

☆

Your Hosts



xxxx The Man and The Woman
xxxx N/A
xxxx Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme
xxxx NPC
xxxx☆☆☆☆☆


The Venn



xxxx Renine
xxxx Venn, from Do-De
xxxx “Hold your head up, and you’ll go far.”
xxxx Walkinthevoid
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



xxxx Barthelmes
xxxx Venn, from Do-De
xxxx "Harmony can be found in all things."
xxxx Blood Stained Pages
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



The Frezou



xxxx Tia Amaria
xxxx Frezou from Emargina
xxxx "To believe in impossibility puts you in a reality with limited possibilities."
xxxx Notesonmypiano
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆


The Azourians



xxxx Slydarum
xxxx Azourians of Azuriolion
xxxx “Who says deadly can’t be pretty!!”
xxxx Ase of Spade76
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



xxxx Cartirueam
xxxx Azourian of the colony Macgragee
xxxx A death in the Hunt is the greatest glory one can achieve in this life.
xxxx Ase of Spade76
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆


The Relectis



xxxx Iclas [Ick-lass] Delilahis [Del-lie-ah-is]
xxxx Relectis [Re-lack-tis] of Fleularams [Flu-lar-am]
xxxx "What would you do, to starve off your boredom?"
xxxx Hinabi Gysuki
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆


The Fey



xxxx Small-Bird-on-the-Wing
xxxx Fey, from Marshworld
xxxx "Live fast, die young."
xxxx Walkinthevoid
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



The Dols



xxxx Olixia and Tarin
xxxx Dols from Roterium
xxxx "Well that's precisely inaccurate."
xxxx iAriana-x
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆


The Aradites



xxxx Ysvera’ee Ariel-Cassa Genoa
xxxx Aradites from Naisvin
xxxx “With the elements I find solace and through them I find victory”
xxxx Sweetcoco26
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



xxxx Sidonus’ee Ariel Spaama
xxxx Aradadites from Naisvin
xxxx “The greatest glory is to serve the Emperor in life and death”
xxxx Sweetcoco26
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆

The Daicho


xxxx Nadezhka "Nadia" Izekamari
xxxx Daichi (Male would be Daicho) from Mirian
xxxx "Chaos and peace induce balance"
xxxx Notesonmypiano
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



The Durnell



xxxx Perseus III (Ben)
xxxx Durnell from a Cradle Nebula
xxxx “The world would suck without me”
xxxx ShadowintheDeep
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



The (SPECIES HERE)



xxxx (Name)
xxxx (Race and planet of origin)
xxxx (Quote)
xxxx (Username)
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆



xxxx (Name)
xxxx (Race and planet of origin)
xxxx (Quote)
xxxx (Username)
xxxx ☆☆☆☆☆

Renine wiped her sweaty brow with one hand, leaning back on her haunches. The classroom was empty for now, but she only had minutes to finish before the students would be back.
She supposed that is should be an honour, sanitizing the people’s education centre, but no matter how hard she conditioned herself, she still felt like she was in a dead-end job, with nothing to look forward to. Working in a place like this felt like fighting a losing battle; all those farmer’s children with mud on their boots, the bureaucrat children that put their feet up on the desks and plastered their chewing rations under them. It was endless. Had she been that bad?

Her school days were a haze of furious studying, frustratingly confusing classes, and bullying peers. It was frowned upon to associate with people outside your own class, but bullying was another matter entirely. In some ways, it was encouraged to ‘put them in their place’, it affirmed the class structure, and held firm the barriers of society.
She did remember one boy, a boy of H class (practically a second-classer) who was actually nice to her. They were friends – of a sort. He helped her up in the corridors once when she had been knocked down.
It was sad to think that an H – class helping her up when she was down was the only memory of someone being nice to her in school.

She was done with this room, finally. The floors had been the hardest part – someone had spilled something sticky, and hadn’t bothered to notify sanitary staff.
The reasoning went that they would find out; they were only third – classers.
It had taken most of her time to remove the blasted satin.
The chime sounded; the students were on the move.
She had dallied there too long.
In a panic she started to pull her equipment together. They couldn’t see her, they mustn’t see her. Sanitary staff was silent and invisible. They came and cleaned while everyone was away, but mostly because the consequences if they were seen would be dire.

Back in school, the third classers had been taught that to be a societal cleaner was noble and vital to the community. Without societal cleaners, there would be harmful germs floating around that could potentially harm those of society, and it was because of their noble sacrifice that the people remained free from contamination.
That was why third classers worked in the sewers, and the nuclear reactor – contamination for them wouldn’t necessarily mean contamination of the rest of society. Nobody talked to third classers. It was forbidden.
Sometimes, even third classers wouldn’t talk to third classers. It wasn’t worth risking the thought police anyway.
police anyway.
Renine had just finished putting her numerous equipment in her basket when the first student entered. His uniform marked him as a second classer, but by the way he held himself, he was probably closer to I class than Q.
He stopped in the doorway, looking down at the mussed cleaner before him, making the gesture for something somewhere between disgust and fascination.
“Look!” He cried to the boys that clustered behind him.“One of the sanitary staff!”
The other boys muttered amongst themselves, gesturing surprise and eagerness, pressing into the classroom to get a better look.

Fear rose up in Renine’s gut, but she merely looked down, making the gesture for respect. Where was the teacher? Surely, the teacher would take pity on her.

“Hey, cleaner!” A boy jeered, throwing a book at her. The book glanced off her shoulders, and Renine flinched. “Clean this!”
“Clean this!” The class echoed, and started pelting her with stationary supplies.
Renine covered her head amidst the hale of pens and books. This was what they taught the second class boys? How to torture societal cleaners? Weren’t they being taught to be productive to society?
“Hey, cleaner!” A boy said, stepping close to her. “Get up off the floor. You’re messing it up with your third class stink!” He kicked her in the ribs.

I must not cry out... she thought to herself. I must not cry out...
Suddenly, she was filled with a strange sensation, like she was being emptied out. Her body got cold, her fingers tingled.
What is... she thought to herself, when what felt like a million hands made of stone grabbed her, and she was yanked out of the room, and into blackness.

~*~

She awoke slowly, surprised to find that she was warm and not hurting. Where were the boys? Where were her cleaning supplies? If she lost them, she would have to replace them out of her own money - and some of that stuff was expensive.
She sat up.
She was in a... parlour of some sort, lying on a rug. A fire crackled merrily in a big stone fireplace, and on the mantle above it were strange objects, stranger than she had ever seen in her life. And so many! That there looked like the ceremonial staff carried by the leader Aand in the second battle of Zoup.
Where was she?


{{OOC:}}

"I don't want you and I don't need you...

The squad flew into the hive in a blur of wings, gatherers first with the soldiers bringing up the rear.
It had been a successful forage, the gathering team having descended to the forest floor to collect tubers, roots, and small berries - things that could not be found up in the canopy, where the gathering team usually foraged.
It was high summer, which meant that the gatherers had to work extra hard to feed the newly matured males, the males that they had nursed from the summer before, the first born after last season’s fertilization.
The males were a burden, living in the colony until the time for them to fly came upon them, eating all the hard won food that the gatherers had scrounged from the unforgiving forest for their sisters, taking up space for a function that saw them living in full maturity for barely a fortnight, then dying.
Small-Bird-on-the-Wing resented having to take the extra time to forage the best, and hardest to reach foods for the males. They had nothing to do with her, nor she to do with them – she was a gatherer, a drone, serving under the Queen mother for the good of the hive, and her sisters.
But yet, every year, she and the team had to go out and get the roots and tubers for the males, for ‘they need their strength.’
Fights-as-a-Dragonfly, the squad leader, pulled off her BoGo nut helmet, shaking free her long, earth brown hair. “Alright, team. Good forage. No trouble, no fuss, in and out. That’s how we like it.”
Last forage, In-the-Moonlight had decided to go off looking for Damsel flowers, and had nearly gotten herself eaten by a hooves-and-fangs beast. Fights-as-Dragonfly had to carry the silly Fey back to the hive herself – and In-the-Moonlight was still sick with the poison.
“Take five, everyone, and then we’ll make one last run before sunset.”
At night, the insects prowled. The hard-shelled-buzzers liked the dark, for then they were free of the leathery-screechers that plagued all the other insects during the daytime.
Although, it was rare to see a leathery-screecher this far down from the canopy.
The hive entrance lay at the middle of the BoGo tree for a reason. The flying whales and the insect teams that hunted them preferred the open sky, and nested in the tree tops at night. The forest floor was littered with creatures far worse than a hooves-and-fangs beast, where as in the middle ground, all you had to fear were the hard-shelled-buzzers, and they were slow.
Although, many a Fey had lost a wing teasing the bad tempered, bumbling insects.
Small-Bird-on-the-Wing hefted her basket higher up on her hip and made for the deeper tunnels, where workers would be waiting to take the precious food straight to the males. The hive tunnels ran up and down the BoGo tree, all the way from the roots to the treetop. Only the BoGo tree could withstand the presence of the hive, all other trees would give way and fall as the inner flesh was stripped away. Only the BoGo tree, who used it’s bark for the transportation of minerals, was capable of housing the Fey. The relationship had gone on so long that the BoGo tree had evolved special soft wood that was easy to tunnel through, for the Fey protected the tree from all predators.
The tunnels grew darker as the gatherers moved away from the bark rimmed entrance, leaving the soldiers behind. They preferred to stay near the light, only venturing near the darker, inner tunnels when it was night. These tunnels were only lit by glow worms, foraged from the forest floor and bread specially for that purpose.
Such snobbery could only come from a soldier. They were so tough, they could supposedly handle anything that came through the hole, and they were so privileged that they could go virtually anywhere unescorted. Even the Queen’s chambers, which were usually only accessible by the Queen’s chosen workers, those that she brought over from her own hive when she first spread her wings in flight.
Her first and only flight. Small-Bird-on-the-Wing was glad that she was not a Queen. She couldn’t imagine not being able to fly. Flying was her oxygen; she lived to fly.

“Good hunt?” A small voice asked, and Small-Bird-on-the-Wing was shaken out of her reverie. Looking down, she was unsurprised to see Glows-in-Twilight, her nestmate and only friend. Her dark blue hair, short cropped out of necessity rather than vanity, stuck up in sweat slicked spikes around her face.
“Ha ha, Twi, you look like a crest-bird!” Small-Bird-on-the-Wing crowed, using her free hand to restore her friend’s appearance.
“Oh, ha ha Bird.” She quipped, her small lips pursed in frustration and amusement. “YOU got to go flying, while I had to tend the males.” She shuddered. “They sure get frisky this time of year. One of them chased me all around the chamber.” She half smiled at the memory, then snapped back to reality.
“Alright, give me the basket. If I leave them alone for too long, they’ll start climbing the walls.” Small-Bird-on-the-Wing laughed and handed the goods over to her friend, who took them in hand and scurried back down the glow worm – lit tunnel. Glows-in-Twilight had always been a serious Fey, for all her small size. She could have been a soldier, she was strong enough, but the Commander had deemed her too short for the job.

By the time Small-Bird-on-the-Wing returned to the entrance, the squad was ready to go.
“Daydreaming, Small-Bird-on-the-Wing?” She snarled, priming her wings for takeoff. “Ready?” She called, and the squad nodded, Small-Bird-on-the-Wing along with them. “Wings, and... Launch!” The group, as one, sprinted towards the entrance, bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. They reached the end, and as one launched themselves into space, hanging there in free fall for a half a second, and then the wings were engaged.
But something slammed into Small-Bird-on-the-Wing, pulling her backwards away from the group. She tried to cry out, but the air was squeezed from her lungs, the pressure was so great...

And then there was something flat, coloured and slightly fuzzy in texture under her face. She could hear moans all around her, and the crackle of flames.
Someone shouted something angrily, and Small-Bird-on-the-Wing sat up.
She was in a room, but it was like no room she had ever seen before.
“What the...” She muttered to herself.

...don't bother to resist, or I'll beat you."

{{OOC}}

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
A whisper in the woods
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
A flash of scarlet
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Renine sat up, rubbing her hands through her short cropped hair. She had a horrible headache, which was not made better in any way by all the noise going on around her.
Noise? There were other people in this strange room? The room was luxurious to the point of absurdity; look at those plush couches, the rich wood. Someone, obviously privileged, killed a lot of animals to make that throw rug. And over there – that predatory beast with the black and orange fur – some kind of feline – it was very much unlike the cats on Venn, skinny creatures with tall, pointed ears used only for hunting rodents.
It was so decadent, there was only one possibility. It was the thought police – they had taken her away for some reason, and she was in the room of some higher official.
But what had she done? She strived to be a model citizen, doing her part and never complaining. It was not her fault that her thought were rebellious, that was why she was a third class. They knew there was something wrong with her.

People started speaking. There were others here with her? Getting her knees under her, Renine straightened her third classer’s uniform. If she were to get out of trouble, she would need to be as presentable as she could possibly be. She was glad that she had polished her shoes this morning.

Someone shouted, and whilst the word sounded angry, it was in a language that she couldn’t understand. It was quite unlike her own language, harsh and emotionless with different words for everything. The voice sounded female.

Another voice whistled and clicked out something that may or may not have been a sentence, whilst another metallic voice said something (Also in a feminine voice) that, yet again, she couldn’t understand.
What was going on here?

She got to her feet, and was quite suddenly faced with a large, pink battle suit that was armed to the teeth with what seemed to be smoking guns. This must be some new technology – a battle suit created for the police for crowd control. Perhaps they were taking third – classers, people who wouldn’t be missed – as ‘volunteers’?

But... if it were police, the colour would be black, not pink.
Renine shied away from the suit, stammering in shock. “P-p-please, do-do-don’t h-hurt m-m-m-me. I l-love the E-E-Emp-ire, I l-love the L-l-l-leader...”

The fire grew hotter as she approached it, but before she could reach it she bumped into someone else. She turned, still stammering in fright. “ “S-s-sorry!” She always stammered when she was frightened. It had been worse when she was little, then she stammered all the time. Her parents had taken her to speech therapy, but it was too late – she was a third – classer, born to second – class parents. That was what you got when you were damaged goods. Turning away from the frightening battle suit, she faced whoever she had bumped into, bowing. “ “M-m-my a-apologies, m-m-m...” Who was she addressing? Was it a Mam, or a Mister? She peered through her hair at the person, but was taken aback. Black clothing, pointed hat, broom... It was a heathen! The stories were true!
Those who refused to join the Empire, so the histories told, wore such clothing and made rude sacrifices to their heathen gods. And here one stood, in this very room! She must be in great trouble, to be faced with such a person.

“N-no-n-no-n-n” She backed away once more. What had she gotten into?


{{OOC:}}