Tsar Enterprises

Tsar Enterprises is a little tropical island off the coast of Japan. It is currently inhabited by fourteen people. There is no way to get off of the island. We are stranded. ... But you know, I don't really think we're stranded anymore...
 
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 The Tale of Trash

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Aliria
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PostSubject: The Tale of Trash   30/9/2017, 11:51 am

Light from the small fire flickered brightly, illuminating the faces of the children and the rocky walls behind them. The oldest of the children, a boy not quite thirteen years old with the bone-white nubs of horns just barely peeking out of his tousled black hair, stood and clapped his hands twice, calling the others to attention. The whispering voices that filled the cave petered out, and the boy began to speak.

"Today, Dwellers, is an important ceremony. It has now been a year since Scrap, Rubble, and Filth came to us, and today they will become true members of our society. Flotsam, Jetsam, you will assist me."

"Yes, King Detritus," came a hissing voice from one of two children, each eleven years old and a perfect mirror of the other except for the yellow iodine eyes of the child who was always on the left and the too-bright violet eyes of the one on the right.

The second child, the violet-eyed one, who was always called either Flotsam or Jetsam but never seemed to have the same name as last time they spoke finished their twin's sentence. "We are happy to assist."

King Detritus - called King no matter how many times he claimed he was no king - solemnly thanked the twins. "Offal, I will need your help as well."

Offal, one of the younger children in the group but one who had been with the Dwellers longer than many, nodded her head. She had not spoken in years, though nobody was quite sure whether it was by choice or because the corruption had taken her voice from her along with her skin.

"Step forwards, Scrap," commanded King Detritus, beetle black eyes betraying no emotion in his too-pale face.

The tiny girl, nine years old but barely two feet tall, stood from the large rock she perched on top of so she could see past the heads of the little crowd and walked to the side of the cave where the King stood. The twins too stood and joined them, their footsteps in perfect sync.

"Scrap of the Under-lands," began the purple-eyed twin, hissing voice seeming to twist together with the smoke in the cavern.

"Child of corruption," came the voice of the left side, their voice too mixing together with the smoke.

"Newly met with the Dwellers,"

"With the younglings of the deepest caves,"

"Do you take us as your people?"

The girl, new to the corruption and still humanoid in most ways, stayed silent for a beat, seeing her future in the sparks of the flickering fire before her. "I, Scrap
, take you as my people."

Offal, who had joined the group at the front of the fire without being seen by anyone, reached a finger into the fire, which could not burn her anymore, and trailed the ash across Scrap's face.

King Detritus spoke next, though once the ash-keeper had been the one to speak the final words of the ceremony. "Scrap of the Under-lands, you are reborn. You accept us as your people, and we accept you. Until the day comes that you leave us, you are one of the Dwellers, and you shall protect against the darkness."

Scrap grinned, slightly wider than might have once been natural, and returned to the stone where she sat before, ash still smeared across her forehead. The difference between being a new visitor and an ordained member of the Dwellers was mostly ceremonial, but she was glad to have crossed that metaphorical bridge.

King Detritus called the next new member, Rubble, forwards. Rubble, eleven years old like the twins, though new to the Dwellers, had lived with the corruption in the Under-lands for many years, and was much father gone than most. Their eyes had gone long before, grown over with stretched skin like cobwebs, yet they still seemed to see perfectly. Feathers sprouted from their back, forming four dark misshapen wings, too small and bent to be of use.

Words began to twist from the mouths of Flotsam and Jetsam again, the same words as before, but now to Rubble instead of Scrap. The ceremony was the same, every child, every year. Change had never been in the nature of the Dwellers of the Under-lands.

Soon Rubble, a streak of ash across their face now too, sat down among the other true members of the Dwellers, though they probably would not be there to stay for very much longer.

Now Filth, the final member of the three new children being ordained that day, stepped forwards. Though the opposite of Rubble in almost every way, the little seven-year-old could hardly be separated from the older child. The two had arrived with the Dwellers together, but they would leave apart.

The corruption had hardly brushed Filth when he had first appeared, and even now he retained most the humanity he once had, appearing perfect except for a tear-like stain of dark gold trailing down his left cheek.

Although young, Filth knew the words to the vows by heart, and recited them perfectly in reply to the hissing of the twins. The ceremony finished, the newest member of the Dwellers returned to the crowd to sit by the child who was his family, if not by blood.

"Today's ceremony is finished. Please welcome the three newest members of our clan," announced King Detritus, ceremonial manner gone and replaced with a calm command. At his words, the crowd of children broke into applause, punctuated with snapping and whistling from those whose hands could no longer clap.

"Now, to your duties, everyone," said the King, "And remember, soon we will rise."

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So, uh, I have no idea what this is or what the heck it's supposed to be about. But hey, you said I should write the trash name thing, so I did. This weirdness is your fault. Also there are definitely some awkward sentences and typos left in there, it's late-ish and I'm too lazy to edit.
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Vinder
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PostSubject: Re: The Tale of Trash   1/10/2017, 1:59 am

clap This is truly lovely.
Kind of sad though. Poor Filth and Rubble. Sad
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Tsar
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PostSubject: Re: The Tale of Trash   1/10/2017, 5:16 am

clap
Rise of the Trash.
Write it.
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