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/qst/ - Quests

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"A lack of experience would leave a Fake's personality plain and predictable. Simple; far
too straight. Without those tiny nooks and crannies humans have, those little traumas
and gestures, those tiny defects, the little details that are there but hardly ever come to
play, a Fake would be seen as simple, and therefore weak. It's like the uncanny valley of a
face you can't see."

Your stare has been fixed in the same place for eight hours, twenty-three minutes, and
eight seconds by now. Figures in black robes occasionally walking in and out of your line of sight. Their voice and words pass you through like a nimble breeze. Nothing stays.

One has been there for a while. Walking from left to right with wide, military steps, it's almost right in front of you when you get to see it.

"So, new ass" you hear, as it brakes, "what do we do with that?"

The other figure shrugs, almost in anger. "Motherfucker what the fuck. I'm still trying to swallow that there's are like twenty clones of me fuckin around."

"Eh, well. We can't update the main's dude base memory, so we make do with this little ritual. Bear with me. What do we do, then?"

It shrugs violently, raising open palms at both sides. "What? What do we do?"

"Come on. How would you emulate a Fake's lack of a past? Of experience?"

"Are you asking me?" It points at itself. "Are you really asking me? I'm you! The whole dickin' point of Clowp was-"

"With a song."

The most eager figure stops at the melodic voice. It stays there for a while. "A song."

"A song." It bows, as if praying.

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For the new anons (and those wondering):



"Our mechanism takes the little details in sound and rhythm and turns them into preferences,
which in turn turns them into reactions. Simply, the personality is like the song, if you can call
that simple."

The other one stays still, then lets its head fall behind its neck. You hear a long, peaceful sigh.

"If that work," it says, finally, in a calm voice, "if that really works, my dick ain't going down.
Ever. Allow me to eat this one up, what's gonna be her song then?"

It turns to you. The face is white, the eyes wide and sharp but gentle, the hair a spiky black
mess It touches your head; you don't blink, you don't flinch... A song, then, fills the void in the
air. It's calm, slow, and very intense.

"It's 'Waiting for Love' by Sergio Mendes." The figure turns from you. Everything seems blurry.
"Brazil 77, I think. The accords, the pauses, the lyrics; her interpretation of it will fill the gaps in
her persona."

"What's ours?"

"A 20hr loop of a guy tripping on a bull terrier."

"And why fuckin Sergio Mendes, wasn't she gonna be grumpy and cold and all that?"

"That is exactly why."


"Also Roomba's was "Put a little love away" from the same author, so they'll get along."

"No, fuck this," It rumbles, "I'm not eating this. Too good. Too fucking good, oh god, I had to-"

"HEY, ain't about time for the show!" It's a third voice, coming from nowhere.

And suddenly, the room is flooding with dark figures.

All voices mesh in one, shapeless voice you can't make sense out of.

"HEY WAIT," yet one rises above the rest, "IS THE GOOD GIRL'S SEGMENT INSIDE


Soon, from the far corner of your line of vision, you see a dark figure with a long iron plier.
They all turn towards it; the plier carries a small, slim device, white and black as void. It
keeps it far from him, grimacing. The figures all share a warm, brutal laugh.

"Oh god you retard, just grab it."


"What won, in the end? Aikido? Muay Thay?"

"Fuck if I know."

It walks up to you, slowly, it's ace getting bigger by the second.You notice some of them are in
crutches, bandaged, or sitting on wheelchairs, until his grimacing face briefly clouds your sight
and you hear a "clank!" at the right side of your head.

"Is the hidden protocol for delivery ready?" you hear, as it steps back.

"Yeah" Two speak at once, then one points at the other. "Can't we, like, call em in like usual?
To take her with them?"

"Well of course, my man, but would that be impressive? Would that be SANSUISTIC?


"Exactly, my flamingo amigo, so suck my wrench. ALRIGHT GUYS, ALL SET?"

They all step from your line of sight as if a dense black curtain was lifted to the sides. In
front of you there's light, and that light hides the outside.



"BYE BYE!!" One salutes you with its crutch, then slips.

You take a step, then another step, then they all start clapping and screaming and beating
each other up. All being swallowed by the sides of your sight at every step you take.

And you walk. And you walk, towards the dazzling light.

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And you walk and walk and walk and walk.

The city embraces you with its dazzling colors and sounds, folks of every shape and size
stepping out of your way when you don't ram them on your way. Details flash and slip as you
turn around the corner, fake green grass, a white table under an umbrella, the rough street
of gray steel, the pictures and colors at every shop. All fall into a blender, fade into a mix of
things and that, then pass through you like a nimble breeze.

And you walk even more.


Into sight comes the dry face of a block, surrounded by men with long sticks and tall
figures of blunt shape and metal. Those move like you. You head for the tall white gate that
rises at the center, yet are promptly stopped as something grabs your arm, something hard but
fleshy. Like a screw, you turn your head at it.

"REQUESTING PERMISSION, FIGURE: SS-44--NN--SS-00-11." The words shoot from your
mouth like dry cannons of sound, as a head buried under gadgets, seems to stare at you.

It lets go. It's not until your head turns fully back in place, then readjusts for the perfect angle,
that you keep on walking, as the white door is swallowed by the ceiling.

You walk past a dark aisle.

You walk past green fields and rocks.

You take the headset from a tiny, blonde woman, struggling a bit to do.

You disarm it, place the slim, black and white device in position, then ram it into your head at
a very specific angle and speed.


You are Nielly. A Fake. Your hair is black and wide, your eyes are almost crimson, your body
is lanky and tall (taller than most), and you wear a black turtleneck sweater over tight black

Resting under the tree, there's another blonde woman. The one with the confused look and
yellow sporty hoody with black stripes. That's Trash. Right next to her is Vaal, the one staring
at you frozen must be Moody, the one hiding behind is the useless hornmother, the black
guy snoring is the White Walker.

Which means that, by default, the woman you are princess-carrying, the one with horns that's
staring straight at your eyes is Roomba.

Your boss.

It's as quiet. Like a crowd watching a tsunami take shape without hurry.

When did this even happen?
Wait why is Heather in my OP?! ?!
Because the will of the universe demanded it. That and as with most things, she had no say in it.
>When did this even happen?

"... Those flipflop wearing motherfuckers."

"Did they at least have me do something cool? Or at least really fucking stupid so they'll consider it worth it when I make every Sansui involved in this eat their sandals?"

"Why are we still Here? Toast got rejected by Cap and Cap is here to fuck people up. Our job as horn-sitters has officially been made redundant."
And you just stare at her as if looking for patterns in the shape of her eyes.

"...Those flip-flop wearing motherfuckers," you mutter under your breath.

"Is that," you turn from Roomba, and it's Trash that's speaking, "is that the thing?" She seems
confused, yet her back is fully rested on the tree.

"Nielly." The voice was near, and It's Roomba.

"Did they at least have me do something cool?" Unlike Roomba,'s your voice always comes
with a hint of static. After all, you weren't meant to deal with this shit. "Or at least really fucking
stupid so they'll consider it worth it when I make every Sansui involved in this eat their
sandals?" It's like, between the mix of hostility and rashness in your talk, there's a hidden

You turn and look around, finally acknowledging your surrounding. Ok, those are himehorns.
Those are the trees. That's a rock, that's a rock, that's a rock. And there's no way in hell
this grass is for real.

"You yelled for about a minute about someone called Marco Antonio," a voice turns you
around, and it's Trash again, "and threatened Toasty to turn her into a real toaster, all while
you took off your clothes." She gives a small, yet hard smile. "Moody, meet Beamy."

"A pleasure to meet you, Beamy!"

The templar gets kicked in the leg, the source being Vaal. "Nonsense. You came, woke
Roomba tried to take her headset, failed, lifted her, then took her headset. Oh, and I think you
smashed your own head with something." She nods, then smiles too much. "That's all!"

You sigh the sigh of disappointment. Of course it's nice not being utterly
embarrassed on your very first appearance, but there goes your excuse to go back there and
maul them all spiky fucks into submission. They had you be a damn headset for a week,
and all because they were too busy using your body for moe-modelling. "Why are we sill
here?" you say, your voice sharp and soft as a toy knife. "Toast got rejected by Cap and Cap is
here to fuck people up. Out job as horn-sitters has officially ben made redundant."

"We really just found out." Trash says, smashing a bread into White Walker's mouth.
He snores anyway. "Corny here wanted to give your chief warlord a break from the shit storm
she had to witness." She gets a finger up her nostril, Vaal slaps it off. "Other than that, yeah,"
she resumes, as if nothing, "change of plans we go back home."

Someone giggles, and it's Roomba. "No, don't think of me like that. I'm your friend. Not your
boss." As she speaks, you realize it was a sad giggle. "Hello, Nielly."

"Hello." you nod.

"I feel like It's fair to warn you." She closes her eyes and smile. "But If you don't let me down, I
might fall asleep in your arms."
"I'm disappointed in myself for being disappointed they didn't do anything. Catch"

Then gently lob the toaster to Vaal. While they're waking up and getting themselves together lets survey the place. "So who of you actually saw my design before now? If you didn't then explain why the hell did you let a twitchy, suspicious as fuck fake approach and pickup your 'friend'?" If they mention the guards in their defense just point to cyber-horn as proof of how good an idea that is.

"Trash, everyone know there's another round of interviews? If not you or Toast should get on that. Now that I have my own fucking eyes and legs I intend to use them a bit. Oh and Toast? You might wanna ditch those horns and anything else the chuuni-cloaked tools gave you... Possibly including me. The hedgehog headed fucks think they're so sneaky..." The grumbling continues even while walking away.

Assuming no objections (which can simply be answered with "if they could hurt me almost everyone else here is fucked too.") take a look around, find whatever entrances/exits we can find and then discretely take a look outside.
"I'm disappointed in myself for being disappointed they didn't do anything," you
grumble, as you walk up to a messy-haired Vaal. "Catch."

You gently toss the big toaster over Vaal's lap and don't even see her land. Oh, fuck no;
you've got legs now, and even arms to test. Not looking back, you take a tour around the tree
as you quickly survey the place. You find trees, horns, rocks, grass, you step on a toy rope,
you check out the white lights over the tall ceiling, the crater that once was a musclehorn,
the library's entrance, the steel walls dressed in tall rocks with white, cute pictures... The last
thing you pay attention to, as you happen behind the hornmother and Moody, is the
sound of careless laughter and careless shouting.

"So who of you actually saw my design before?" Unaware of you, the hornmother
tenses like a cat, and much like a cat jumps over Moody. "If you didn't then explain why the
hell did you let a twitchy, suspicious as fuck Fake approach and pickup your "friend"?"

"'"Friend?"" Roomba emphasizes the word as well, quizzically, as Vaal's head pop from her
shoulder while the older blonde hugs her from behind.

"If you go in," Trash says, stretching so much it seems painful, "that means Cap'n let you.
That's good enough."

"Trash, everyone knows there's another round of interviews? If not, you or Toast should get on

"Toast." Trash chuckles. You catch a glimpse of Vaal shaking her cheek against the toasters.
"Told em all already, they are all waiting to be called. Don't tell em about the musclehorn,
though, they'll think this is about being the best cra-" She shuts up, blinks, then turns to Vaal.
"Hey, I noticed this time."

Vaal grabs her hand, "Good for you!" She smiles.

Roomba smiles, faintly. "Good for you!"

"Sorry Toasty. Anyway, who's next?" She pauses, again. "Eh, not trying to rush things or
anything, but savin lives takes time, and interviews too."

"It's ok." Roomba nods, then pauses, her mouth gaping. She "hmms", almost visibly.
Actually she's like the physical manifestation of "hmming". "How about Atma? I was thinking
Preah, but I'll ask her to get me rum first." She giggles, faintly. "Is there still food for

Trash shakes the basket. "Plenty, don't worry."

"Now that I have my own fucking eyes and legs," you resume, looking elsewhere again, "I
intend to use them a bit. Oh, and Toast?" You turn to the smallest of blondes, who grins at
you sheepishly. "You might wanna ditch those horns and anything else the chuuni-cloaked
tools gave you... Possibly including me."

The toaster blinks and blinks. "I-I see." Then smiles. "Trash trusts them, though, and the horns aren't att-"

"The hedgehog headed-fucks think they're so sneaky..." you don't hear the rest of Roomba's,
as you walk away. "I better have a hidden protocol for not making pachinkos out of the
lot of them or..." you don't even pay attention to your /own/ grumbling anymore, as you head
towards the entrance.

There is, it seems, only one exit straight from the main room; and it's this one. You know of
the branching tunnels, but the himes escape mechanism escape you. Maybe you should
check their tunnels? Maybe it might be a bit overkill?

From the main entrance, you see the same arid landscape you remember from your debut
some minutes ago. The street is empty. All vehicles pass by, and there's none to see near
the block. You turn left and right, and the guards seem so impassive they might be dead.
Other than that, it's not exactly a fascinating view.
Poke around the tunnels partially to see if they'll let me, partially to see if there's any other routes out of this place. One entrance and one exit make for a nice siege gate... right until 3 judges walk in it and turn your cozy nest into a slaughter house. Follow any draft we can detect (use a bit of lint from our sweater to detect them if we can't feel any) until we get near the limit of our ability to hear the horns playing in the main chamber. If the draft goes back into the chamber then go opposite it, following the strongest draft out to the same hearing limit.

If the lot of them aren't ready to leave after all that then start getting them ready our self and have them fill you in on the non visual details of what happened. How the hell all this happened without a trail of bodies leading in and out of the cave says that Cap's opponents have far more than just physical might on their side and likely, given the chaotic nature of this place, have more than political might on their side. If they're as cunning as this operation seems to be I might just have to swap Cap and Toast's nicknames.

> hidden protocol for delivery

And sure as hell not worth your time. You turn and walk the dark aisle, then across the fields
of rock and green at a brisk pace as the fake grass bends under your feet and the Trash's
and Roomba's stare at you from under a tree.

There is, as far you know, a network of caves and passages behind and under this room.
While Captain agreed that the himehorns had to adapt and make themselves useful to
society, she opted to walk them through step by step. In this familiar landmark, they learn to
work, they learn politeness, the haremhorns learn to talk, and the hornmothers learn not to
dance over someone else's table. Day after day, they learn the jazz and dances that is
called "society". And, even if they think it's silly, they learn to keep their clothes on. Unlike, of
course, their grumpy, exiled neighbors. Those had to learn it all at once.

And as you stand in front of one of its many entrances, your black hair trembles. The wind
sucks you in. It's inviting you to come in and have a happy nap, a happy cake, and a happy
hairbrush. You oblige and step into what seems to be a deep hole blown into a big rock.

The light is faint, and orange, and its coming from that torchlight at the end of the passage.
It's a small tunnel, and the torch is at a corner. As your hair trembles again, you dig into the
pockets of your tight black pants and scramble for some lint, and it's not a surprise when a
handful comes out. After all, your clothes aren't exactly likely hand-made. Once at hand, you
raise it in front of you and delve deep into the cave, your eyes fixed on the lint as you let the
wind tell you stories through it.


The cave network turned out smaller than you expected, this is the third time you happen
upon this very entrance. Somewhat upset, you close your eyes. Then take a tour though your

-In one of the room, you saw a lone haremhorn surrounded by those little things. She seemed
ecstatic, until she saw you.

-Another of the rooms had a fully equipped kitchen, two refrigerators included. You took a
peek, since it seemed deserted, and opted for an educated guess; someone makes cakes in

-One of the bigger rooms is the eyebrow-rousing mix of a modern bathroom and a cave.
It had plenty of segments for toilets behind doors, which you opened one by one until you
found a hornmother who, you assume, was barely learning how to use it. She just stared at
you until you closed it. Then you went after the rest.

-You leaned inside the library, whose black curtain is the first thing everyone sees as they
enter. It was crowded, so you left it at that.

You spotted plenty of subtly-hidden ventilation ducts inside the caves. And, other than that,
you found no escape mechanism for the horns. At all. Perhaps the main gate is the only way in
or out.

And it's only after you inspected every cave, every bathroom stall that you finally return to
the tree with the blondes.

"Forgot your suitcase?" It's Trash, with a stupid grin. She's standing next to the White Walker,
who's fully awake, as Lumina and a small horned Moody turn to look at you. You glance
below; a quick look reveals your boss, Roomba, still sitting over Vaal's lap as the killer
rests her back on the tree and gives this blissful little smile, arms wrapped around the
tiny Fake.

"Are we ready?" You ask but your voice is clouded by a massive yawn.

"My bad!" It's Vaal, opening a single gleaming eye towards you.

Roomba opens her mouth but it's Trash that you hear. "Took a tour at the caves? We did
that already, you know. Next time just ask." As you look at the sporty one, she's giving you a
meaningless stare.

"Fine?" You shrug. "Tell me what happened here, fill me up. And tell me how the hell all this
happened without a trail of bodies leading in and out of the caves."

The templar turns and turns around. "Well, can't see em here. If that musclehorn really
crushed them as Cap said, they must have just taken them out before they left." Trash nods to
herself. "No fucking way they'd give her that kind of proof, bet my ass they were gonna
blame this on the common folks."

"Actually," It's Roomba's voice, and everyone turns to her, "I didn't see them come back to
pick up their soldiers. They left them there." The Fake downcasts her eyes. "That was very
cold of them."

"Well it was dark as balls, are you sure?" Trash scratches her head. "Maybe they weren't

But Roomba nods firmly. "I'm sure of it." Her orange eyes got straight. "That's when Captain
came to keep watch..." She raises a finger. "The bodies were still there."

Trash freezes; her mouth gaping. You just can't help but give her a shit-eating grin, but it goes
unnoticed as the templar is stuck looking at the floor.

Finally, she looks at Roomba. "Wait, what the FUCK?"
"Good thing you brought that picnic basket huh? I'll let you chew over that grizzly realization for a moment, there's one last piece of the puzzle to dig out from under the sofa"

How'd they get the knockout gas in and well dispersed in a place like this? By carting it in of course! Take a good look at some of the bigger trees, look to see if there is anything in the branches, give the trunk a a few light knocks to see if it sounds hollow, and (If we're capable of it) see if we can smell any unusual chemicals nearby. A rather funny Trojan horse move if my theory proves correct.
A chuckle. That's what makes Trash turn to you. "Good thing you brought that picnic basket
huh? I'll let you chew over that grizzly realization for a moment, there's one last piece
of the puzzle to dig out from the sofa."

Now not only the templar, but also the killer, the black guy, and the toaster are fixed on you, as
you walk over their tree. You study in intently from root to green, then study the top between
each branch.

Yet, you spot but leafs and more branches.

You give yourself one decisive chuckle, though, one of those that says "so that was!", and give
the tree a few little kicks that make the leafs shake from side to side.


Yet, it isn't hollow.

Fakes can smell, and enjoy the finest of perfumes as much as the next sack of meat.
So you indulge yourself in the smell of wet grass and earth, searching the air for
something else...

Yet find no chemicals.

"If you are doubting Difos," you hear, and /of course/ it's Trash, "then don't." You only turn
your upper half to her. "Captain wouldn't have let them in unless she was completely and
absolutely fucking sure those were safe, and that Difos sent them. So," she grins, yet without
edge "unless you think our Captain here wants to fuck her own people up, don't kick the tree."
The grin vanishes. "I'm still in the blank, though."

Well, fuck! Eyes don't work, nostrils don't work, legs don't work. It seems the enemy may not
be dead-on retarded. Which is kind of a relief since it means your allies aren't either.

"Maybe we should stay for longer? Just in case?" You turn, and it's Roomba under the

Yet Trash shakes her hair and tiny ponytail. "Captain's here. A lot of our guys don't want in
this, so we gotta do the interviews back at my place." She sighs. "Gonna melt my brains
trying to figure this one out..."

Roomba "hmms", then nods. "If you think that's enough, then I'll agree. Shall we be on our way,
then?" She turns to Vaal, the older blonde seeming expressionless.

Yet she smiles wide. "OK!" Just as they were, she gets both hands behind Roomba and lifts
her. You watch her princess-carry the Fake across the grass, just as you were a few
moments ago.

Hmm... there /has/ to me something you missed. Either that or you are going paranoid fast.
"I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt, after all it's easier to have your guards carry your gifts in without suspicion when neither you they think there is anything in them *shrug* Worth a look at least. Not our problem anymore right? Let's get going, I want to see this place of yours instead of just hearing it"
...yet, then again, there may be not. Both you and Trash watch the blondes go.

"I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt." You say, turning Trash from Lumina.
"After all it's easier to have your guards carry your gifts in without suspicion when neither you
nor they think there's anything in them." You shrug. Trash shrugs as well. The hornmother
behind Lumina shrugs. "Worth a look at least. Not our problem anymore, right?"


"Let's get going," you say, moving ahead. "I want to see this place of yours instead of just
hearing it."

Trash turns around as she follows. "Bye Walker."

"Be free mah nigga." He waves back.

Trash yawns. Both Lumina and the hornmother follow close behind, whispering among

You frown. If the puzzle is incomplete, then a piece is elsewhere.


"Well," Trash says, "we did nothing."

The glass table is overflowing. Around it, there are two Fakes, two humans, one himehorn,
and one templar. The What, as is, counts more as a hat than anything else, as it stands meekly
over Trash's head.

It was a long walk with a long talk, and while you had not much of it a few things got clear:
your team is still marked by the Judges. And that little stunt by the Sansuis, it seems, got
you marked on as well. Given the current situation, however, it seems assault upon your
team is now the same as threading himehorn grounds uninvited, and Captain current stance
regarding violence seems to be intimidating enough. The little pseudo-Faction Leader was
summoned called upon by the Judges regarding her less than subtle prison break.
Yet, it seems, her unwillingness to get back her shackles was completely unexpected, and no
further action was taken by any side.

"Any moment now," Trash says, "she'll make the announcement. And it'll split this whole
fucking ship in two."

After all of this, Vaal is still holding onto Roomba as if the Fake was meant as a big
plushie. It makes your eyebrow tremble. That and that the Fake isn't exactly bothered by it.

"Roomba," and both the Fake and her living seat turn to Trash, "we really need to make a
move on. Our ship is sitting ducks here."

Roomba "hmms", almost closing her eyes. "Should we cut on the interviews, then?"

"No." Trash shakes her head. "We either leave ready or we don't. With how bad it is down
there we can't afford to leave with less than our absolutely mega fucking best. Just focus."

Roomba "hmms!", and nods.

"Lumina may be targeted, so she'll stay with us until I fix a couple things. Unless that bothers
you and makes you wanna yell and scream." Trash adds, neutrally.

To which Roomba laughs. You spot Trash winking at Lumina.

"Of course she can stay! Why do you think I made so many cookies for?" She adds, almost

"Thank you." Lumina nods, her words a bit blunt. The hornmother still holds onto her

"I'm calling Atma, then. I'll-"

"Wait." It's Roomba. She turns to YOU. "Nielly?" she smiles.
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... "Yeessss?"
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"Do the interviews over the phone. You'll loose accuracy but you'll be able to finish them tonight if everyone picks up. You seemed keen to train people on first aid so there goes that, Trash seemed to have cherry picked fucks capable of fighting, Lumina is likely to be coming along anyways so scrap the mechanical test, and we can play poker with your new fuck-buddies on a ship that isn't loaded with void bombs and likely to be bisected in the most effective "'no-horn go home dance' in history.

Or you could just call up whoever you feel like and we'll roll with that.

...Might just want to save that for a backup plan though."

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