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Nice b8 m8. More RR as i feel like writing it
    The Alternian Empire was said by some to be infinitely big, it's expanses bordered only by constant war with other species. For millennia,The Empire expanded, growing to gargantuan size, swallowing up smaller, less advanced civilizations and destroying those which did not conform. The mass of the Empire was its great bragging right. Every radio address, every propogandistic film, portrayed the Empire as an unfathomably large juggernaut, unstoppable and unparalleled.
    The mass of the Empire called for the creation of three zones by the Admiralty, the henchmen of the Empress herself. The three zones, massive in and of themselves, existed to divide and govern the almost unmanageable mass of worlds. The first was the Inner sphere, whose center lay in the world of Alternia itself - the homeworld. Most Inner Sphere worlds were harvested endlessly for resources, though some remained livable, if only just. The Middle Sphere was home to most of the population, numbering in the quadrillions. The Middle Sphere world Gaia was considered by many to be the production and economic capital of the Empire, smothered by the massive rings of orbital shipyards. Anywhere from one million to two million warships were produced in the entire Middle Sphere every Alternian month, fuel to the massive fires of interstellar wars. The Outer Sphere were the pristine worlds freshly taken by the Empire. Colonized, terraformed, wiped of all clues to any previous civilization. This was the home of the wealthy highblood elites and the Oligarchs which acted not with the Empress but as "business partners," as they insisted on saying. The Outer Sphere was the most heavily governed and pressured of the Spheres, with a large and extremely corrupt Military Police whose interests were strictly corporate.
    The darker sides of the Empire were hidden by the triumphant bragging of the Admiralty and the Empress, as well as the silencing of nay - sayers by the mysterious and dreaded Subjugglators. Police brutality of the lowblood was not only tolerated, it was entirely expected. Some theorize that the lower life expectancy of the lowblood troll wasn't a result of nature but rather the brutal subjugation of an entire population.
    Two large corporate entities controlled the flow of Alternian economy. Watchanea Corp., the largest producer of the Sopor drug, was the biggest of all of them. Their lawyers and lobbyists worked behind the scenes of their own accord, as did Yahana Enterprises, the inventors of the drug known as Browndust. The ties of this massive conspiracy, the cogs and blank faces who operated the war machine at the expense of the troll race, were largely unknown to almost all the population of the Empire.
    Almost.
    
    High in the orbit of Alternia (and most worlds) lay a space station, five miles in diameter, which existed to train the teenage recruits of the Empire. To senselessly breed them into unforgiving and unmerciful killing machines. Firenz' dropship was gliding through the soundless space miles above Alternia itself, straight towards it. Vriska gazed balefully out the clear port window of the ship. None of the recruits spoke to one another the whole trip.
    The landing pad stretched out, extending to accept the dropship. The station now loomed, as might an imposing castle, before the dropship and its occupants. A canopy folded over the dropship, enveloping it. The hiss of pressurizers was audible from even inside the thick walls of the ship. Vriska felt a (thankfully proverbial) pit in her stomach. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. The dropship's maw opened once again. Firenz and the pilot, trainees in tow, walked towards the center mass of the station, through a causeway from the landing pad.
    As they walked through the dark hall, past the busy, grave faced officers and lowblood cleaning staff, dirty - faced and gaunt, Vriska was slowly realizing the gravity of her situation. She didn't dare speak, nor did the other trainees, but the feeling of unease intensified. She snuck a glance at the other teens, but they're anxiety, if present, was not visible. Not for the first time, Vriska felt the dire need to be vindicated.
    Firenz led them into an entry hall in the center of the station. It was industrial looking, the walls made of naked metal panels and the ceilings lined with raw girders and wires and strong white lights. It was obvious that the design was not intended for aesthetics. The smell of must and blood and copper wafted throughout the stale air of the station. One of the recruits wrinkled his nose.
    "You think the smell is bad?" Said Firenz, gloatingly. It it was part of a whole thought, he never finished it. He lead them up some simple stairs to a large door. He placed his hand on a black panel, and it opened immediately. He ushered the recruits through the door, holding it open. He seemed to stare at each of them with a great deal of either suspicion or disgust as they passed. Vriska was unsure if this was a facade to intimidate them or if he genuinely held some loathing for them. She didn't ask.
    They were now in a massive courtyard. A skylight hung above them, resembling a huge eye, through it shone many, many stars and lights from the depths of space. Many of them moved, not being stars but rather ships, polluting the black sea of space. All of them stared through it with awe. Vriska was beginning to understand the scope and scale of space and the Empire. The reality of her situation had finally hit her. Floating on a great metal plate, with only a bad - mouthing sergeant and a bunch of aloof teens who have probably killed as many as she had and more for company. Her first trip to space, and she was here. In this destitute station, in this hellhole. It took every ounce of her reserve to not panic then and there. Even if she stayed with her lusus, there was nothing she could do to prepare Vriska for this.
    She realized she was fidgeting. She looked around. One of the recruits, the gaunt faced boy from before, was giving her a strange look. His eyes, still yellow with youth, had the smallest tinge of bright blue in them. His hair was medium-long, straight, curving slightly inwards, his nose a hook - shape. His face looked as hard as a statue. He looked like he'd been through hell. Maybe, thought Vriska, he had.
   
They stared at each other for a second. Her stare was curious, but his was analyzing, computing, almost sinister in his attention to detail. Vriska looked away quickly, unnerved.
    "Quit dilly - dallying," Said Firenz. "The term starts tomorrow, and you scrubs still haven't had your physicals."
    A sharp - faced girl spoke up. "If we're in such a hurry, why didn't you pick us up sooner?"
    The recruits boggled at her. Who would think to say such a thing at a tender time like this? Firenz, however, didn't even miss a step. "Because I'm lazy," was all he said to her. The girl seemed dissatisfied.
    "There's always the one lil' grub," Said Firenz, leading them through a small door on the "East" wall. "The one who thinks they're the bomb. The one who cant resist the opportunity to be a sassy little shit on the first day. I deal with that bullshit every time." He didn't even turn to the girl as he berated her, only kept walking through the halls. "Come on! Quit bein' slowpokes. My point is, I'm forgiving on the first day. But I suggest in the future you keep your damn mouth shut. We're going to drill those seven Virtues in your head if it kills you, because all of you are the future of the empire. At least, allegedly." He opened a door the letters 'A-DFA' on a placard above it, leading to a large room stacked high with recuperacoons. He ushered them in again.
    "What are we doing?" Said someone,"We don't have any possessions."
    "I fucking know that. Hang out here until the docs call," Said Firenz shortly. "I have to get you checked out so your dumb asses don't die of gangrene in the middle of training." He left, shutting the door behind him.
    The ten of the teens were afraid to say a word. It was a broad - jawed boy who spoke up first. "Hard - ass, much?"
    Everyone laughed a little too much at this. Everyone except the boy with the hook - nose, who seemed to be thinking. Or brooding. 
    Vriska was stuck in her head for much of the evening. Kids were called up, left, came back, kept chatting with new friends. Vriska felt like she was on death row. How long would she wait? 'How long will I last here' seemed like a better question to her. She got bad vibes from all the teens here. These were teens she'd feed to her lusus, or who would feed her to theirs. She didn't feel like fraternizing with any of them, but she figured she'd be screwed if she didn't. 
    The broad jawed boy walked up to Vriska and sat down beside her on the rim of the recuperacoon. She was taken aback by this. "Hey," she said.
    "Hey," said the boy. He had a soft voice, but wasn't timid. She could tell. "My name's Tempus," He reached out his hand. Vriska shook it.
    "You wasted no time introducing yourself," noted Vriska.
    "Well, my lusus always told me to start at the beginning," Tempus chuckled at this, though he hadn't said anything particularly funny. Vriska humored him with a smile. His eyes were a bit green, and he smelled like manure. Vriska hoped it wasn't his own manure. Her first thought was that he was a loser. He had a scar over his left eye. "So, what's your name?" He asked.
    "Oh! I'm sorry," Said Vriska, not sounding extremely sorry, "I'm Vriska," She went for a handshake, then realized she'd already done that and put her hand down.
    "Nice name. Sounds exotic," said Tempus. Vriska's fangs itched at this. "Do you have vision Eightfold?" He asked, suddenly awestruck.
    "Used to," She said, bashfully. "Accident."
    "Aah," said Tempus. Quit being so fucking curious, she thought, venomously. She was used to being able to say things like that, but these people were new territory. She couldn't boss them around with mind control or her sword or a whack to the face with her metal arm. Interacting with them was going to be a minefield for her. She decided it'd serve her interests more to get as many connections as possible.
    "Where are you from," asked Vriska.
    Tempus looked like he'd just won the lottery. Oh shit, I've done it now, Vriska thought. "I'm so glad you asked!" said Tempus, "I'm from Arath -- You know, the rural province of Alternia? Anyways, so I was born in some urban province somewhere but the Youth Provincial Government evicted us or something? Anyway, so I lived in some backwater..." Vriska zoned out immediately.
    A lowblood woman opened the door to the quarters. It was the lady who'd been taking kids to to see the medical staff. "Serket, Vriska?" She said, shortly. Vriska got up, cutting off Tempus' long - winded origin story. "Right here," She said.

    "Damnit Firenz," Said Doctor Mikall, scowling. "This is why we wanted to avoid recruiting cyborgs."
    The two of them stood behind a plate of one - way glass, looking right into the operating room. On it lay Vriska, tied down and sedated. A group of surgeons and nurses were crowded around her. Firenz always thought their medical equipment looked like torture devices. To be honest with himself, he had always had a fear of doctors.
    "Well shit, she was on the roster. I'm not the one in charge of that. Go get pissed at the Admiralty or whoever," Said Firenz. 
    Mikall sighed wearily. "This surgery is going to take at least five hours. That arm was built by a complete asshat. Or a child. The point is, if we keep that shit on there she's going to get gangrene."
    "Huh," said Firenz.
    "What," said Mikall flatly
    "Nothing." Firenz crossed his arms. "Better late than never?"
    "You better hope we have an arm in stock that fits her," said Mikall. He tapped his clipboard angrily. "But first thing's first, that shit's coming off."
    "You sure like swearing at me," Said Firenz. He shot Mikall a glare.
    Mikall scoffed. "Shut the fuck up," He said, walking out the door and into the operating room.

    The first thing she saw was synthetic sunlight, the simulation of daylight employed to lull the homesick trolls to a comfortable sleep. Vriska started. She was in an operating room somewhere. The place smelled like soap and blood and soot. Her arm felt... strange. in fact, her arm felt. That alone was a marvel. She inspected it. It was new alright. It looked almost sculpted, and resembled less a claw like her last one was and more like a real arm. Vriska was caught between ecstasy and sheer panic. She spotted her clothes on a chair next to the table, so she got up and put her clothes on hurriedly.
    "Hey," came a voice from behind her. Vriska jumped a mile with her pants around her knees. "Sorry to interrupt," said a tall, hunched man, nonchalant of Vriska's partial nudity. 
    "Were - were - were you watching me?" asked Vriska incredulously.
    "I don't give a shit. I've seen enough naked kids to get investigated by the Ministry of Decency. It's my job, kiddo." His voice was harsh and deep. "I'm Doctor Mikall. I specialize in cybernetics and prosthetics, so you have me to thank for the new arm." He offered his hand. She shook it. It seemed like a lot of people were offering her their hands.
    "Is.. is Doctor your name?" Asked Vriska.
    "I'll forgive that stupid question on the grounds that your high off your ass on painkillers." Said Mikall. "Come with me. You need to rest."
    "Is there some kinda' orientation I should be at?" Asked Vriska, clutching her forehead.
    "Ya missed it, kid. It was a five hour surgery to replace that piece of shit." He lead her through the bowels of the station, the corridors just as bleak and metallic and soulless as the ones she'd seen before. "You're in block A-DFA, right?"
    "I.. I don't remember." Said Vriska.
    "Don't worry. It was basically a rhetorical question," Said Mikall. He opened a door, and they were back at the hallway to her quarters. "You're gonna have some catching up to do, but for now, sleep of that shit we pumped into you and get ready, because tomorrow's gonna be a long night."
    She walked into her quarters. The room was lit brightly, and everyone was sound asleep save for some boy who was trying to stifle obvious laughter at something his friend said. "Get undressed and hop in a coon. I hope I see you never," Said Mikall. He started to leave, then popped back in and added, "For, for your sake, of course."
    "Wait!" said Vriska.
    Mikall shushed her.
    "I have to get undressed in here?" She whisper - screamed.
    "Everyone else is ass naked. You have, like, two hours to sleep. Get on with it." He left, finally.
    Vriska sighed, undressed herself, wary of any lingering eyes, and hopped in her (or a) 'coon and tried to sleep.
    Tempus suddenly bust out laughing. "Shut up!" Someone shouted. Tempus shut up.
    
Red Rise Chapter 1: No Need For Alarm
Alright, the non - indicatively titled second installment is here! :iconsexyvriskaplz:
In this chapter, Vriska tries to settle in to her new home aboard the station, only to run into some medical complications. It'll allegedly get good next chapter, so stick around. Who knows what wacky hijinks could ensue?
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    The air of the long Alternian night smelled like ash from distant fire and the salt of distant seawater. The purple clouds boiled with lightning and thunder, threatening to start a downpour.
    Flickering streetlights, bright as the harsh sun, lit the decrepit roads of a city long forgotten. Hundreds of years ago, this city may have been a utopia, apparently foreshadowing a bright future. Now, tall skyscrapers decayed, their duratanium skeletons rusting, and windows slipped from their sills to crash down on the grassy asphalt. Once - popular shops were squatted by rogue trolls, desperate for a life anew, the silent city their new home.
    In a dark alleyway, a girl named Vriska searched for a meal. She was no more than seven sweeps old - around sixteen by human standards.
    She scowled. Usually she could scavenge off the squatters who hunted for their own food. She didn't want to get her hands dirtier than necessary, though it seemed she'd have to find her own meat. She sighed and kicked over an old trash bin, bright red and made of plasticia. Its gross contents spilled out onto the asphalt. She rubbed her shoulder, the stump of a long - gone arm, now replaced by a cheap steel copy. It squeaked at the joints and left her with an interminable itching at her stump, which was just another annoyance to her. However, it was much worse than it used to be, and Vriska was beginning to fear the worst for it.
    Avoiding other trolls was an invaluable skill. To be seen was risky. These trolls were very suspicious and wary of strangers, and would not hesitate to capture or kill an outsider if they perceived them as a threat. Vriska had decided that it was a preferable life to be feared than to be hated.
    She never walked through or even across the brightly lit streets. They were still lit because some of the smarter factions of transients surveyed their turfs intensely. Vriska instead took to rooftops and alleyways for ease of travel. Occasionally, she'd hear a ship or transport whirring overhead, as though scouting out. And sometimes, in the dead of the darkest nights, she could see Imperial Drones silhouetted against the bright streets and lights of the seemingly forsaken city.
    She sat down in the alley. Dawn was approaching fast, and she hadn't eaten yet. She particularly hated sleeping on an empty stomach, but it hadn't been too long. She'd live.
    She had made her home in an abandoned apartment block, a large hive - like affair, once bustling with communion and kinship, now dark and abandoned like everything else. As Vriska slept through the days in the shade of the carpet she'd hung up in front of the window to block out the blistering sun, she couldn't help but feel the futility of a day - to - day existence, already dying, it seemed. She was forgotten, left behind - this she knew. But unusually, she held no bitterness. The days went by, her friends disappeared. One by one, they faded out. Exit stage left. They stopped going on Trollian altogether. Only when the awful loneliness set in, waiting for the clock to strike noon and the Placement Division to decide her fate in the great Imperial machine, did she kill her lusus and flee her home.
    Not rarely, an awful feeling of awareness set over her. The realization of the many months she'd spent walking the planet, evading the Drones, and sleeping in empty rooms with almost no possessions of her own left. It was hard, but there was no time to ruminate - not when you're an Unaccounted.
    The internet in the Empire is extremely propagandized and controlled by the Military Decency Division, much like the realm of film, spoken word, literature and entertainment. A single educational hub site, known as Alternation, introduced to trolls when they acquire a computer from the Empire (Age two), exists as an incredibly biased and interest - regulated repository of knowledge. Vriska's first experience with the Alternation was the article on Unaccounteds. An Unaccounted is:
    A largely slang term (in Innersphere vernacular) for a troll who has forsaken it's Empire - given home and lusus to live a blasphemous existence outside the reach of the empress... Reward for capture: $$24,000. 
    Vriska had fantasized, in her naive years, of indeed capturing an infamous Unaccounted. Worse than Shitbloods, they say. But for all the snooping, all the "research" she did on her FLARP partners and her personal friends, she never found a single Unaccounted.
    Life was funny like that. It tended to reach back around and slap you in the face. She wondered if she would be better off with the Empire. She is, after all, a blue - blooded posterchild of the Alternian ideal. She could land herself in a fairly important role, she supposed. But, she supposed, it was too late for that.
    Vriska realized, as she drifted to sleep in the apartment at morning, that she had forgotten to eat after all. Maybe at twilight, she thought lazily.

    Before she even realized she was asleep, she was awakened. The sound of a great roar, long and enduring, rang though the room. Vriska bolted upright. It was warm - too warm for the twilight hour. But no light shone through the window. She had slept through Mornight. Cursing, she ran towards the door of the decrepit quarter. Her brain began to stir, she realized that the gargantuan roar outside her window  was that of a great engine. Despite herself, she restrained from cursing again. She bolted out the door -- only to see, standing in the corridor, two Imperial Drones looming, their back to her. Her jaw dropped, but she quietly stepped back.
    The drones were situated around a small door. Their red carapace shone in the gloom of the unlit hallway. One of them reared, and shoulder - checked the flimsy door. There was an audible splintering sound. It went again, and the door gave. They were searching. Something in the back of her mind told her they were searching for her.
    To the credit of her detractors, Vriska always had a sort of self - centeredness about her. The Empire valued this trait. It was one of the Great Traits: Pride. A proud warrior, proud of their abilities and proud of the Empire and the Empress. Maybe it was pride that told her to run, or maybe it was her survival instinct.
    Vriska peeked through the makeshift shades of her window, taken aback by the smell of mold from it. Hovering over a city block, four large engines whirring and sputtering, was a Dropship, the size of a hive. It resembled a bright red fly, with twin spotlights symbolizing its great eyes, mixed with a death's - head. Like everything the Empire produced, it carried an air of malevolence and intimidation at the mere sight of it. Its spotlights were pointed directly at the apartment.
    The heavy treading of the Imperial Drones became louder as they approached, door by door. Every so often, a crash of a dislodged door would serve as the tolling bell of their arrival. If any time was good to split, it was this one. Vriska bolted out the door again, and this time, ran straight for the stairwell. The corridors were tight, ill - fit for the bulk of the Imperial Drones. If they had seen her, she still had a shot at escape. She pulled open the heavy door to the stairwell, just as she was certain she heard the metallic screech of a one of those insect - like automatons, and through -
    Face - first into the backside of a third Imperial Drone. Vriska stumbled and fell on her back. The Drone turned on her. A single, unlikely thought occurred to her then: How do these things sneak up on people?
   
Even face to face with what seemed like death, some asinine part of her was still ready to make some quip. She just couldn't help it. "What were you doing?" She said, in a mixture of impotent rage and confusion, "Taking a piss?"
    There was no reaction from the two Drones now looming over her. They were not such a receptive audience after all. She wondered if it still counted as facing death with dignity if you at least laugh at your own jokes.
    One of the Drones leaned down to her, and she closed her eyes, grimacing. This is it, she thought, feeling the Drone's massive hands dig under her and raise her up - into a fireman's carry? Vriska started, The Drone was holding her not like a person aught to hold another person but more like she was a human - shaped package of pork meat. The Drone gripped on tight, and the posse of Drones all walked, single file, up the stairs. She squirmed in the Drone's grip, but it was useless. The thing held on fast. Part of her felt vindicated by this development. Another part of her was fearful. Another part of her altogether was pissed because she hadn't eaten in hours.
    She thought of asking "Where are you taking me?" But she doubted they'd respond to it, considering as far as she knew their vocabulary consisted of "SCREEEEE" and strange, guttural mechanical noises. She dropped the notion.
    Soon enough, the Drones and Vriska arrived and the top of the building. The Drone suddenly let go, and Vriska tumbled onto the hard roof with a grunt. Another Drone pressed a small button on its huge wrist. On cue, the spotlights of the dropship fixed on the Drones - and herself. The imposing ship brought itself closer, and lowered so that the jawlike front port was level with the rooftop. It opened, true to form, like a huge maw, and a platform extended from its depths like a long, very flat tongue. A door inside slid open, pouring out light from inside the ship. A tall figure was silhouetted in the doorway.
    The figure marched forward. Vriska realized that she'd never seen an adult troll before. This one, from the looks of it, was an adult male, with long and treacherously curved horns crowning his head. He was broad, but not particularly muscly. As he shed the light from the ship and walked into the dim night, Vriska noticed his imposing body armor, curving and imposing. He had a stern and chiseled face marred with a single scar across his nose. His eyes were green, betraying his blood color.
    He offered his hand. It was veiny and greenish. "You must be Vriska Serket?" He said. His voice unsettled her. It was too deep, like the ocean.
    Hesitantly, and in some awe, she took his hand and shook it. "That's -" She paused, "That's me."
    The man smiled in an instant before returning to his normal grim expression. "I'm sergeant Firenz of the Imperial Recruitment Division. It's nice to meet you."
    "What are you here for?" Vriska blurted out.
    Firenz squinted. "Guess," He said.
    Vriska thought for a second. "Coffee?"
    Firenz' only response was a weary sigh. "I've heard it all, kid. I'm here because the Empire itself is interested in you."
    Vriska scowled. "No shit?" She said, suspiciously.
    "No shit." Said Firenz. "I mean, not in an individualistic way, more of a, 'We want you to join the army' kinda' way."
    "If I refuse?" She ventured.
    "You can't."
    "I can't?"
    "Nope."
    "Oh."
    There was a long pause. Firenz seemed aloof about the wait. "Take your time," He said.
    "For what?" asked Vriska.
    "You first," He gestured towards the hovering ship.
    "Why me?" asked Vriska
    "You're so full of questions," Said Firenz, a bit venomously. "I love that. And you know what? I'll be happy to answer all of them on our way to the station."
    "The station?" Vriska clammed up, seeing Firenz' glare. "Sorry."
    She walked past him, to the platform into the maw of the ship. Whatever's up there, she decided, had to be much better than in this dump. She shielded her eyes as they entered the ship, its interior stained and looking like a used transport more than it did a military asset. She realized, then, that that was essentially what it was.
    "Take a seat," said Firenz. He motioned towards the row of seats, some of which were occupied by tired, dirty trolls no older than her. She must not be looking much better than them, it occurred to her. Dirty, ragged, breathless. Confused, mostly. Jolted. Whiplashed. The teens were so different and yet very similar. She sat down, leaving a single space between herself and everyone else to both sides of her.
    Firenz clapped his hands once. "You're the last call of the day, Vriska. We're headed straight to your recruitment center now." He smiled. It looked extremely forced.
    "Fuckin' finally," Said a moody looking boy with a bowl cut to her right.
    "So, question girl," He looked at her with malicious amusement, "Any questions?"
    Vriska couldn't muster up an answer. Someone snickered.
    "I'll take that as a no," Said Firenz. He walked to the front of the cabin to the door leading to the cockpit of the ship. "You all know where to find me," He said.
    "We do?" Said a deadpan - looking girl across from Vriska.
    Firenz glared at the girl. "Shut the fuck up." He said. One of the boys 'Ooooh'd' at this. Firenz glared at him, too, before retreating.
    Vriska took a deep breath. She could tell it was going to be a long night.
Red Rise Part One: A Prologue
Expect this to update -- extremely sporadically. Once i publish these chapters, I won't revise them unless absolutely necessary, in the interest of artistic integrity.
*Hackneyed fanfiction author voice* "Okay, but what if... It was the Troll kids... But they never played SGRUB! I'm a fuckin genius!"
In all seriousness, I've ruminated on this story for quite some time. Is it Scourge 2: Electric Boogaloo? We'll see!
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  • Mood: Mortified
  • Listening to: allstar
  • Reading: Bob he once told me the world is gonna roll me
  • Watching: I ate the sharpest tool in the shed
  • Playing: she was looking kinda dumb with therapy
  • Eating: is the shape of all her forehead
Two sweeps after Sollux's game backfired, Vriska lives as a vagrant on a desolate planet. The Empire who all but abandoned Alternia wait for the strongest of trolls to show their power.
When the Imperial Drones arrive, Vriska thinks it's the end - but she won't be culled this time. A stranger named Firenz enlists her in the brutal Alternian Navy, a hellish gauntlet to weed out the weakest of the best. And in charge, a brutal and savage admiral named Thorne, who concocts ordeal after ordeal, sending his trainees heartlessly through hell and back to prepare for interstellar war. But the greatest challenge to Vriska won't be the disturbed Admiral Thorne, the mysterious Quartermaster, or even the starvation. No, the worst challenge she will face are her fellow trainees, unfamiliar and unfriendly faces. Among them will rise one of her greatest enemies.
And all the while, a conspiracy cooks among to oppressed majority - the Lowbloods - as more begin to follow the teachings of the Sufferer. Soon, a chain of events will cause a massive civil war in the Empire, and Vriska, as well as a certain old flame, will be the key players.

Fuchsia is the color of our first moon, mother of our royalty
Blue is the color of the night sky, secure, all - enveloping, and omnipotent.
Green is the color of labour and intellectuals, the beating heart of our Empire.
Red is the color of the dawn, the time of laziness and ineptitude. And so it will be that at dawn will begin our righteous massacre!
~
Ancient speech delivered by Earroc the Quasi - royal, and mantra of the Highblood Manifesto.

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mapper3
Mapper 3
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Long time artist, short time member, a young person who is particularly interested in graphite and charcoal forms. He also dabbles in the literary arts.

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Virgo by SkaianAngelKanaya: Deal With It by Bio-Electric-Anemone

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Badass ppl: My watches. :P
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:icontimliver:
timliver Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2015
Its been a loooong time.
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:iconmapper3:
mapper3 Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Aye yo it's been so long since I logged into DA holy crap. how ya been.
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:icondartzoftheorichalcos:
DartzoftheOrichalcos Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014   General Artist
Thanks for the watch!! :D
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:iconmapper3:
mapper3 Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
no problem m80
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