#lyrian plot

[ladytrollfishes]

Shits about to hit that fan

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[ladytrollfishes]

THE POWER TO ANIMATE IS TOO REAL

so i animated one of my fave panels from today’s plot update lol

[ladytrollfishes]

Surprise!

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[ladytrollfishes]

Oops.  Also screw tumblr and this fuzzy crap. I gotta pay more attention to image size in the future i guess.

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[ladytrollfishes]

And so it begins. This is it! Here we go!

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[ladytrollfishes]

Daginy: Get Caught

It's not the only time you've snuck into this particular facility. 

The harbor's a vast sprawling thing clinging to the side of the coast, a giant shipping facility that saw more than a hundred cargo ships come in and out every day. Underneath the harbor, a twisting labyrinth of tunnels kept the building above dry when the tides came in. 

You've got a copy of the map, your lockpicks, a rasp, a first aid kit, some granola bars, your phone and your strife. Hopefully you won't need the last one. 

 This is the plan: 

 The central office should have the cargo shipments and destinations. Each bay has a list but there are too many of them to sort through before your target leaves the planet. 

 Once you've identified the location of the four missing trolls, you'll plot out the nearest sewer entrance, observe the patrols, and depending on how long you at have, sabotage security. 

Once that's done, you get to the trolls, pick their locks or file through them if you need, get them to the waterways and get out. 

 It's feasible, really. You just can't take more risks than are necessary. 

 You arrive at the hatch closest to the central office. You change out of your wet boots and clothes and captchalogue them, and climb up into to service hatch, into a small space behind a hidden door. 

You put an ear to the wall, listening for footsteps. Nothing. You close your eyes and take deep breath. You’re doing this. 

The next breath and you’re invisible. One more and you open the panel, peeking outside. Black boots step towards you and a hand reaches for you. It brushes your hair and your breath catches in your throat. 

“There!” someone yells, and you dodge another grab as you duck into the wall, hoisting and twisting yourself so that you can throws yourself down into the waterways. 

You land with a splash and start running. How did they know where you were going to come out? Behind you you can hear splashes as security drops into the waterways and give chase. 

You don’t bother with invisibility. You can’t mask all the ripples when you’re running in water and they’re too close. 

You dash around a corner, closely followed. This is bad. The maze of waterways sprawls open, complicated as a nightmare. It wouldn’t be long before you ended up in a dead end. 

It’s something, really, to see the end before it comes. You know you’re doomed. The knowledge won’t stop you from fighting as hard as you can, but at least you can take precautions. 

You take your palmhusk out and glance at it. No signal, which figures. What it does have is the wealth of your data; your contacts, some of your notes, and location data. You absolutely cannot let anyone get their hands on it. 

The next corner you round, you smash the palmhusk against the wall, cracking it open before you drop it into the water and keep running. There’s a pang- you’ve been through a lot with that palmhusk- but there’s more things to worry about than that. 

Your pursuers are way too close behind. None of you are wasting breath on yelling, but they are taking swings at you. 

You duck under a blow and trip, plunging face first into the water. Before you can even choke on dirty water, an arm grabs yours, yanking you out. You snatch your notes from your coat, the ones you take in your little notebooks, and toss them into the water too. The pages would melt, the ink would run. Weeks of work. 

“Dammit!” your captor snarls as he grabs your arm and twists it up behind you. You grit your teeth as you grunt, bracing yourself against the ground. “Smart though, to get rid of the evidence. Not that it’ll help you.”

Your other pursuer splashes water in your face and snickers when you flinch. 

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get them back to base.”

They pull you bodily from the water and start marching you back the way you came. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Lyrian: Get yourself an apprentice

Brazal Vigale. 

You found her... promising, which was much more than you could say for the average troll that crossed your path. 

Of course, you investigated the incident where she killed two subbjugulators. The one survivor confirmed that the incident had nothing to do with anti-empire sentiments, even if she was so irritating her survival hung in the balance when you did meet her. 

There was a lot Brazal needed to learn still. Her ability to discern information was lacking and she needed to learn some discipline. But she did have good control for a troll of her age. You wonder why she picked interrogation as a career path after being a “party girl.” 

You don’t suppose it matters too much. As long as she worked hard, you’d be satisfied. You could guide along the next generation onto a better path.

You’ve got a stack of pre-written acceptance letters, so you take one and slip it into an envelope. Hopefully Brazal wouldn’t break like the last apprentice you took on. 

[ladytrollfishes]

Lyrian: Stop reminiscing and do your job

Right. 

Your job as an imperial interrogator was waiting. Harmon’s doing his job, making sure the space docks on Alternia run smoothly. He’s an adult now, he can take care of himself.

In the mean time, you had to take care of this jumped up little lowblood who thought they could defy the empire. 

 You’d put that notion to rest real soon. 

Lyrian: Do your job