Oi vey, things are progressioning pretty quickly here! We're already three votes in to a quest that didn't exist two days ago? And two votes running simultaneously, with the signature Rihaku combinations? Yikes!
Ah well, live and let shitpost.
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THE REAL CHAMPION
470 words
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Dahl Grens had been working the checkout at the Spasibruh WalMarket for nigh-on 30 luns now, a long long period of time even for a man his age. He'd seen Supremer Leads come and go, kingdoms rise and fall, and nigh on sixteen wars begin and end since he'd first assumed this position. Admittedly, most of that had been safely transmitted to him through the highly illegal implant-tap attached to his hypothalamus and transmitting nearly-constantly from his handbrain, but he wasn't the type of man to quibble about whether data sourced from outside his own gray matter and its dense thicket of chemicals and electrical properties was inferior to the natural kind.
No, he'd grown old(er) working this job, a steady fixture to the point that some of the customers even managed to remember his name.
Without looking at his ID badge.
Yes sirree, he'd seen it all, from drugged out alties to overgrown sentient trash piles (but enough about management), to several outright orgiastic rituals conducted in the dark corners of his workplace, left to him to break up with nothing but a mop, his courage, and the knowledge that these kids would truly regret wasting their time when the treatment for their STDs was charged out of their parent's paychecks (choice footage of one of those stored away in a well-locked portion of memory still played sometimes, when he and the wife felt like getting frisky). Yep, he'd seen it all, done nearly all of it at one point himself, and if there was anything out there that could surprise him, well, that was what Netmunization was for.
So when this asshole managed to stroll up to his counter and somehow being something absolutely goddamn new, he was flabbergasted! Sure, the punk managed to look like your average homeless veteran of the social influencing wars, but there was something about him. Was it the fact that his skin wasn't as pale as could possibly be? Was it the way sparks flickered and flashed in his aura, gone so quick Dahl couldn't even be sure that he'd seen them? It was definitely the part where this, this, this customer had just asked him for a favor. Of all the infamy, all the insult, all the outrage! He was here to make sure that this chump paid his dues for his goods, not to actually serve him or anything! Fixing this interloper with the cold, implacable hatred that could freeze the heart of a star and the contempt that could make it wink out again, natural to any and all who had ever worked retail for a living, he cleared his throat and essayed, "Well, sahr, I would absolutely love to help you, but you see I appear to have left the gas stove on in my house this morning..."
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I thought it'd be fun to have a look inside the mind of the kind of person who'd be stuck dealing with the Champion. And hey, if you've ever worked retail, perhaps you'll recognize a little of yourself in there!
Anyways, I hear there's some sort of voting going on? I might be newly come to the Omakenjutsu dojo, but that doesn't mean I've abandoned all questing behaviors!
[X] Vengeance
-[X] Remittance: The Sword
[X] Seven Seals
Because if I cannot have JUSTICE, then I will at least have a glimpse at the Praxis we've so long wondered at. The danger of death? Terrible sacrifice of self, perhaps risking the end of the quest unless we dig too deep and risk releasing raw omaketinium? Pah! We scoff at that! We are Rihaku questors, we know well that the end of a quest can come as simply as quarantine being lifted! Too long have we been teased with an option we have been told is too dangerous to grasp, too weak at first, too unoptimized for our build. Now, at last, we grasp fire! We grasp glory! We choose RED!!