I'm sorry but Grian's last stand!!! hello??!?!?
My man took on a 3v1 and was fucking WINNING. He lowered all 3 of them by so much! He alone in that fight dropped Scott from 35 to 12 hearts and Gem from 49 down to 5 (+10 for killing Grian) (I've not seen Impulse's ep yet).
But like?? yes King pop OFF
He even fought until his shield BROKE, fighting till the very last minute!!
Say what you want about this man and his easy flightiness with alliances when they begin to break apart, but this man had a mission and he fucking delivered on it and we stan a committed man
He managed to hold his own against a very good PVP player and he fucking owned it
The tragedy of it? He knew he wasn't going to win. Of course he wouldn't against the best PVP player in the server, a previous winner, and Impulse who consistently performs well in these games. He was surrounded, taking and blocking hits from all directions, throwing himself into the fray when he could have just walked away and waited for a better moment. But no, taking and giving swing after swing, fighting until the very wood of his shield splinters and breaks. He wasn't expecting to win, he could never win with how low his hearts were, but he knew he could bring them part of the way down with him. He just knew Gem and the Scots couldn't be left with their abundance of hearts, and my man sacrificed himself to make sure other players had a fighting chance.
Without him, Gem probably would have won with her stacked hearts
I hope the community milks the ever-loving shit out of this moment
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I think what attracts people to humans are space orcs stories is not the inherent idea that humans are evolutionarily aberrant in the universe. Rather, it is the solution to the existential crisis of what if we are not alone in the universe. If we are alone in the universe, we are unique and able to make our mark on the universe unhindered.
But if we are not alone, if there are countless other species, each identically unique, what is there to set humanity apart? How do we make the universe remember us after we have gone extinct. If all species are exactly like us, have things that make them unique and memorable, each grew up on a deathworld, each views themselves as a space orc, each has attributes about them but are multifaceted species, what difference does the existence of humanity make on the universe? Earth having evolved life will matter for the surrounding star systems and any individuals that come in contact with earthlings, but in a million years, will anyone care? Will we make a mark upon the universe, do anything to make the cosmos take notice of us?
And so in a universe of space orcs, what is it that humanity can do to separate ourselves? Space orc is not a prophecy, it is a promise to the stars. The only fear we have is not that we are not alone, it is that we are not unique.
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Small Noises
The air was warm, the breeze smelled of spicy alien flowers, the sun was a comforting Earthlike brightness, and something kept making a popping noise that was slowly driving me mad.
I tried to figure it out. The hoversled that Mur and I sat waiting on was inert and parked. There was no cargo on it because the client was late (thus the waiting). Our ship lay behind us on a relatively quiet landing pad, with crewmates bustling around inside and a variety of locals going about their own business at some distance.
The door to our ship was closed. Maybe it was something from another ship? I turned my head back and forth, trying to pinpoint the direction.
Mur noticed, glancing up from where he was idly braiding his tentacles like a particularly arts-and-crafts-inclined dark blue squid. “Something wrong?” He sounded like he was hoping I’d say yes, because it would mean something to do.
“I’m trying to tell where that sound is coming from,” I told him, cupping a hand to one ear. Of course it stopped when I was actively trying to find it.
“What sound?” Mur asked.
“The little popping noise,” I said. “It happens every few seconds. I thought maybe it’s that ship over there, but I don’t know.”
“This noise?” Mur separated his tentacles and lay one against the deck of the hoversled, popping it upward with a suction-cup smack.
“It was you??” I spread my hands in exasperation. “I was trying to see which ship engine was making the weird cooldown noises, or maybe somebody on this spaceport chews bubblegum!”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully, popping a different tentacle even louder this time.
Shaking my head, I pulled my lips in and made a popping sound with my mouth. I’d meant it to be a frivolous imitation, but Mur gave me a sharp look.
“You do know that’s a swear word, right?”
“Ha! No, I didn’t.” I grinned. “Good to know.”
Still visibly bored, Mur lined up two tentacles against each other and separated them in a cascade of sound like undersea popcorn. “Bet you can’t do that.”
“You’re right,” I said. “But I can do this.” I breathed on my palms and squished them together in a respectable imitation of squeaky flatulence. Third-grade me would have been proud.
“That’s not a swear,” Mur said.
“Probably for the best,” I told him. “Humans have been known to make that sound accidentally, and I can just imagine the diplomatic kerfuffles that it could lead to.”
Mur twirled a tentacle in assent. “Like we need more of those.”
I thought of another one. “Hey, I know you can’t do this.” I pressed one long fingernail against another, letting it snap back with a tiny click. “This only works when I need to trim my nails.” I snapped away in a flurry of clicks.
“Well, yeah,” Mur said. “You’ve got more hard parts to hit against each other than I do.”
“True.”
“Good thing there are no Mesmers here to put us to shame,” he said. “With all their clicky bits.”
I nodded, picturing the mantislike species that came in wild colors with egos to match. “Yeah, they’d definitely win the clicky-tappy competition. You know, I bet they’d make amazing tapdancers. I should ask Zhee if that’s already a thing.”
“Or you could ask these guys,” Mur said, standing abruptly.
I looked up to see an irritated-looking procession of Mesmers towing their own hoversled in our directions, loaded with shipping crates. There were many taps, clicks, and hissing grumbles.
I did not ask the late clients about tapdancing. Mur and I simply accepted the delivery with patience and grace, making sure everything was accounted for and all payments were squared away, promising that we would do everything in our power to get the crates to their destination in the agreed-upon time frame or better.
The clients agreed in a huff, leaving with a flair of red and bronze limbs, still muttering. Some of it was barely-veiled insults that they clearly didn’t care if we overheard.
I didn’t say anything as they clicked away. Neither did Mur.
But I did swear in his language once they were out of earshot.
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!
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