Graded [Ryken City] Slums Music Festival

[Eccentric_Undead]

Slums of Ryken

​

Time: Early Afternoon
Atmosphere: Surprisingly Upbeat.
Mentions: Maggot Corpse ( Myxyzptlk ), Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ), Tensil ( Vaudivolt )

The slums are not exactly a wonderful place. It's the place where people go when they have nothing else. So low in fact that people hope they are born beautiful just so they could be a prostitute. Prostitution was an easy way out of it. Slums were not kind, but there was something different about the normal humdrum of the slums today. Actually, it had been different for the past couple of days. What replaced the silence of longing for more, was music. It was delightful. Throughout the streets of the slums paper lanterns lit up the sky and streets. Where there was normally somber sounds that filled the dissonant silences, now there was wonderful music. Every type. Classic, folk, but what most people could hear was the wonderful sounds of rock music.

Everyone knew about this week. The annual Slums Music Festival. An event hosted by local businesses and prominent social figures in order to give the slums something to look forward to. Giving the downtrodden something to look forward to was a great way to make sure that business was always booming and that way people had something to love. Life without some Hope was nothing. Giving people hope, that is what this event is all about. Family, food, fun and wondrous music.

Down through the thoroughfare, everything was being set up. People created stalls to sell their wares to the folks that were walking between concerts. These concerts being set up in makeshift outdoor stages that lined the main road. The smell of fresh food filling the air, a stall just to the side selling special masks that were only on sale during this Festival. The sense of community among the people life had been most hard on was something tangible within the air. Children ran up and down with sparklers that they saved all year to buy. This was the largest event the slums ever had. Well, the only event the slums ever had. Which only made it all the more special.

Magic users made lights dance in the sky, musicians practiced and checked on their instruments. The world was a light for a single week out of the year. For the first time in a whole year, the people who called this place home could ignore the terrible economic situation they find themselves in and simply live as humans. It is here in this place of spontaneity and joy that three perfect strangers find themselves. Music on the air, joy in the hearts of all and the night completely open to these three. What will the night bring?

 

[Vaudivolt]

Tensil
Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Curious
Mentions: N/A

Darting across the forest floor, Tensil fled from a band of adventurers. The fallen leaves crunched beneath his four-legged stride. He had to create distance and fast. Weaving between the riverside trees, he followed the rushing waters upstream. The direction that would lead him towards a city named Ryken. Where adventurers had come from and where he would try to find a way to stop them from doing so.

After following the river until the sun had already crept past the midday point, Tensil finally laid his eyes on Ryken for the first time. The directions had been correct. His goal stood firm within reach, and he approached. In his mind, he was a diplomatic envoy of the forest he called home. In their minds, most likely not. But, to his surprise, a slight ordeal regarding placing his claw upon something called a 'Black Orb' was all that slowed him down before being allowed into the city.

Once inside the walls, he began his search proper. He soon found himself on a path that would lead him to an area more comparable to how he had imagined the home of adventurers to look; the Slums. Shoddy buildings held together with sheet metal and good intentions. Open pipework burrowing through the walls and slithering across the ground like mechanical snakes. But, despite the conditions, the people surrounding him appeared friendly. Not only that, but the atmosphere was undeniably festive.

Tensil quickly found himself distracted by the scenes. Instead of continuing his search, he wandered the lantern-lit streets to glance at the stalls. He took in the warm scent of food and colorful decor until his glimmering eyes landed on a stage. He had walked past a few, but maybe they were worth looking at as well. Everything else had been interesting. The newfound curiosity compelled him forward, and Tensil wormed his way to the front of the crowd. It was the only way he would see anything - apart from climbing onto a stranger's shoulders. If only he were taller...

 

[Myxyzptlk]

Maggot Corpse
Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Irritated
Mentions: Maggot Corpse ( Myxyzptlk ), Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ), Tensil ( Vaudivolt )

An unusual sound of folding metal being scraped five times over and incessantly rattling followed a particular area of the festival. Hollow cylinders meant to discard trash instead being dragged along sloppily through a series of ropes intertwined. A black net had formed a web around the disposal cans like some loose pool divider snagged onto itself and began bobbing side by side in the most disorganized manner. It was a decrepit sound which sapped the atmosphere away from any who may be subjected to its range. There was five all being carried in tow by a scummy looking individual. Blonde hair spiked in a fashion so untamed that it was nearly formless, a body so frail that their frame seemed to bend at the will of the trash they tugged throughout the streets.

This of course was the visage of Maggot Corpse. A man who was once already removed from reality in an unseemly manner; his disdain in a prior life had translated to another altogether. Upon a closer inspection one would find even stranger things to note: A microphone stand, hand drill equipment, a sledgehammer. The objects rarely interact with each other in any coherent sense yet they were tools haphazardly placed inside the large silver cans that were being trained throughout the streets. So peculiar was the sight that it disturbed some of the locale that had confined themselves to celebration. The looks of the populous were rather contorted from how disturbed they were at the sight. There was a particular grime and lack of hygiene that the conductor brought about him which made people want to give a wide berth if they could help it.

The character of this individual was scarce to dispel any notion that could be initially attributed to him. Their teeth grit so tightly that it could cause indents so sharp they would become razors. There was a dark maroon which painted from one nostril and spread past the lip. The sickly aura he exuded was grotesque to say the least and he himself looked no less aggravated by his own presence than the denizens who he carelessly dragged himself past. The language he utilized was even less heartwarming as an almost routine-

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

Continued to be shouted as the symphony of miniature steel towers behind him continued to cascade along dirt and tarmac at a curious angle. Children shrunk in Maggot Corpse's presence and parents similarly felt the need to shield their young ones eyes from the horrid appearance of such a figure. Even for the slums of Ryken his manner of dress was dilapidated, the clothing Maggot fitted himself was graphic tees and jeans which had turned to tatters over years of use and poor maintenance. The brown of dirt was a feature so prominent it was as if it were bleached onto its canvas. It was revolting to say the least but so was the point of such an appearance.

Maggot was one half of a band duo named Shotgun Blowjob. Their sound was heavy with noise and vitriolically experimental that few would deign to call it music. The allure of it manifested in someplace else for its listeners. It was not the ambience for someone seeking easygoing recreation; it had a tendency to attract the has-beens of a society. Individuals so far removed from people they interacted with that they found something relatable in something so unexplainable. The other half of the duo was similarly grizzly in features and more dreadful in other aspects.

Shotgun Blowjob's objectives were similar to the ones of their prior shows played in fractured buildings and necrotic apartment complexes. Upon their transference to a different world entirely they found themselves capable of doing things they thought previously impossible. The two had abused this ability to wreak petty chaos and havoc in such manner that they found joy in. Their energies were so uncontrollable that they themselves were not secure from their own malignant spells. An extra layer of excitement was aroused in doing such a thing recklessly. This festival was to be no different, they would weasel their way onto the stage in one way or another. Their trek toward the largest stage was frantically single minded, the noise of rock was guiding their directions. As if being herded forth by a sirens call Maggot seemed almost to be incapable of seeing what was around him.

 

[Gryphon3707]

BLOATFLY INCUBATOR

Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Vacant
Mentions: @ Eccentric_Undead

Behind the amalgamation which was Maggot Corpse sat the second half of the duo band, Shotgun Blowjob. Bloatfly Incubator was the guitarist, whereas Maggot Corpse riled the crowd Bloatfly Incubator set the tempo. He was the showman, the silent observer of Shotgun Blowjob. Bloatfly Incubator shuffled along, following the stench and rattling of Maggot Corpse trash. Bloatfly's blood stained boots dragging against the ground. Black marks of ripping boot leather left a trail behind the unfitting union of flesh and blood. The sound of plates smashing into each other filled the air with every movement Bloatfly made. A strap connected a fish-net bag to the back of Bloatfly Incubators belt, what pieces of glass that managed to chip themselves small enough exiting through the holes and adding to the chaotic trail Bloatfly left in his wake.

The shuffling creature was lanky, his long arms reaching down to the knees of his black, stained jeans. Remnants of what seemed to be blood, urine and bile decorated the clothing. A graphic tee and denim jacket covered his torso, the picture on the tee depicting an act of violence. Two men seemingly beating a battered corpse in an alley, splattered blood decorate the men while the unfortunate victims head lay crunched against the curb. The denim jacket would be covered in all the same patch, covering the sleeves and back. The patch was simple in nature, a black circle with white lettering spelling out 'SHOTGUN BLOWJOB'.

Long greasy hair flowed past Bloatfly Incubators eyes, obscuring his vision slightly although not enough to hide the absent minded vacant stare Bloatfly had plastered across his face. Occasionally locking onto one of the passerby's. Linking direct eye contact with whichever member of the public managed to gather his attention for some unknown reason that only Bloatfly could comprehend. Craning neck to follow them as much as he can, tilting his head to get the full range of motion. His lower jaw opening and closing in sporadic burst, the rare gargling sound being immitted from Bloatfly Incubators revolting mouth. His head seemingly acting beyond the control of his body as his lower half continued shuffling himself forward in perfect harmony with Maggot Corpses steps.

Whereas some wielded a sword or a staff Bloatfly Incubator carried a guitar. In his left arm sat, despite his unsightly appearance a fairly well taken care of electric guitar. Nestled comfortably between his ribcage and hip was his amp. This item not as well managed, the long black cord being dragged behind Bloatfly Incubator. What seems to be growing mold covered the bottom of the amp while rust decorated the front metal gristle.

As Maggot Corpse yelled Bloatfly Incubator blinked a couple times, seemingly being awoken from whatever vacant hellscape he escaped away to. Pausing for a moment he tossed his amp on-top of Maggot Corpse trash pile, allowing him to carry it for a moment. Taking a slight break in the middle of the street, forcing the other festival goers to have to maneuver around him he scratched at his neck. The sound of dry flesh peeling off as the white speckles floated in the air before eventually disappearing. Glancing around the festival grounds Bloatfly Incubator took in the atmosphere for a moment before snapping his head to the side, locking eyes with one of the food vendors the man suddenly and on command threw up. It wasn't a lot, less than a cup of mere bile but it was still revolting to those around him. The liquid slowly drippling down his face before he wiped it away.

Shining his yellow and black stained teeth at the Vendor before he stumbled away, there was no reason for Bloatfly Incubator to terrorize that unlucky food Vendor but the point was that there was no reason. Chaos for the sake of chaos, malice and hate fueled their music. To not act on these primal feelings would be hypocritical .Shotgun Blowjob was malice for the sake of malice, if it sounded good it would detract from the point. To Bloatfly Incubator, control, reason, pattern was a flawed idea. Attempting to control anything was inhuman, unnatural. It was more revolting than his own stench. Chaos was the only option. Uncontrolled Chaos.

Blinking rapidly Bloatfly Incubator suddenly found himself beside Maggot Corpse, evidently during his sudden spiral his body navigated its way to the first half of Shotgun Blowjob. The Rock Music grabbing the lanklets attention as well, looking to Maggot Corpse Bloatfly spoke.

"GRRRAAAHHHHHJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ"

Finishing his sentence he began shuffling his way over to the stage, falling in line beside Maggot Corpse.

 

[Eccentric_Undead]

Slums of Ryken

View attachment 1095958​

Time: Early Afternoon
Atmosphere: Surprisingly Upbeat.
Mentions: Maggot Corpse ( Myxyzptlk ), Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ), Tensil ( Vaudivolt )

The atmosphere continued to be a wonderful thing. Yes there were some angry people within the crowd, but there was nothing really bad about it going on. These people were having fun for the first time in a year. For some people this was their only time to relax, so they weren't about to let angry people ruin the wonderful time they were going to have.

Upon looking closer, most could see that the slums still had its slum nature. Garbage fires in alleyways to help keep the homeless warm, people still conducting drug deals and business around, but everybody made way for the music and the happiness. It was something that could be said was the strength of the slums. The ability to look forward.

Through the crowd and behind the stage that was curiously empty stood a sickly thin, completely outraged elven man. He looked a bit too sick to be elf, but that's what the slums did to people. He was yelling at a large human man with black hair "Are you kidding me?! I paid in advance!" Anger filled his voice as he yelled.

"I don't know what you want me to do. They can't play!" the human man was completely annoyed. Clearly he had explained the situation several times and this elf just wouldn't listen "I don't know what happened. The band got the crap knocked out of them in the alley and all of their instruments were destroyed. There's absolutely no way they can be on in a couple hours. I'll be lucky if I can get them back on stage in a month! I'm sorry, but they cannot play. You can take the money back, but we have to keep that deposit."

The human held up a sack of coin, more coin than a lot of the slums would ever see. To anybody who knew the man or lived in the slums, the elf was named Garian. He was the owner in proprietor of the most popular bar within the slums. Some considered him the richest man there. It also seemed like his bar never really closed, so when they saw him snatch the coin purse and shoe the human away, they knew that this was a problem. Garian sighed and rubbed his temples. Now he would have to try and find a replacement. However, this was not the first band that had been attacked trying to perform for him. He didn't know if anybody would take the risk. Word had already spread throughout the crowd and he was losing business as the seconds passed.

 

[Vaudivolt]

Tensil
Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Intrigued
Mentions: Garian ( Eccentric_Undead )

Thus far, the slums festival had been satiating Tensil's curiosity. Every step had something new and exciting to look at. It surpassed his assumptions regarding the adventurers until he decided to approach that stage. He quickly started to grow restless as he waited for something to happen. Or was the stage supposed to be the event? Tensil flexed his claws whenever he shifted his feet. He shifted his feet whenever somebody in the crowd accidentally bumped into him. Again and again! He had wormed his way into this crowded area out of curiosity. But nothing was being presented to him. And his curiosity was rapidly growing out of control.

Whether that was the reason, or the crowd restricting his movements, Tensil had to reclaim some freedom of movement. And the only way was by leaping forward, or so he felt. His claws scratched marks into the stage as he pulled himself onto the surface - receiving some negative feedback from the crowd in the process. He ignored it while his glimmering yellow eyes searched the empty stage. There had to be something here he was not understanding.

In his fruitless search, Tensil caught a glimpse of people standing behind the stage. He reasoned they had to be important people. Otherwise, they would have been standing with the rest of the crowd. Upon inspecting them from a distance, one of them seemed weakened. Akin to a sick animal. He would be easy prey out in the forest. Tensil reasoned that was probably why the adventurers kept him within the walls.

The other one seemed much more fit for hunting. The man was large and intimidating but also seemed upset at something. Tensil could only assume there was a problem regarding the bag the man was holding. But, upon hearing the bag's contents shift around, Tensil quickly decided it was equally his problem. It sounded filled with those ovals adventurers got paid with!

With his interest piqued, Tensil moved closer to the conversation as it concluded. Perching himself on the edge of the stage, he saw the bag exchange hands and the man take his leave. Upset as he seemed, without that bag, Tensil had no interest in assisting him anymore. So, the weakened one was his target now.

“Hello.” Tensil spoke, attempting to hide his intentions behind a smirk and pitched tone, “What did you give him that bag for?”

“Was it hunting? Did he not do his job?” He continued eagerly, leaning in further as his tail swung back and forth while occasionally stabbing at thin air, “I can hunt. Can I have it?”

 

[Myxyzptlk]

MAGGOT CORPSE

Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Broiling
Mentions: Garian ( Eccentric_Undead ) Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ) Tensil ( Vaudivolt )

The hellish demeanor that Maggot Corpse and Bloatfly Incubator exuded did little to dissuade people from enjoying their time. Still the two of them trudged through the dirt paths of the slums. Fine balls of dirt and gravel sifted through the chewed up parts of exposed boot that loosely hung to the heels of Maggot. By this point Maggot Corpse's droning lurch forward had allowed Bloatfly Incubator to meet him by his side through his sporadic stumbling. The trash cans banging behind Maggot Corpse continued to carve an erratic path; hardly maintaining any linear direction as they now followed Maggot at an off angle.

Disgruntled voices reached Maggot Corpse's ears. Each one complaining of a notable absence of anyone on stage; for a brief moment that had been satiated with more dissatisfaction at some other entity. Maggot in his manic episode of alertness had flicked his gaze up to see an impish red figure decorate the stage. Maggot moved closer to it with each step, the creature static like an ornament before it leapt back into the crowd and weaseled its way toward Maggot. Such an animal was an unusual sight but Maggot's indifference to the world he occupied had already been cemented weeks prior.

Soon Maggot was chipping his way forward before coming across the unusually large human and the sickly elven figure. As if attuned to the elf himself he would begin overhearing the entire conversation. Maggot was unaware of the history behind Garian and furthermore only mildly interested in how an entire band found itself beaten so viscerally that they were unable to play with their instruments. Fortunately or unfortunately for Garian the noise punk duo of Shotgun Blowjob had just wandered into vicinity at that convenient time. However, the red imp had just burst out from the crowd and took an interest in the pouch of coin that Garian was holding in his clenched fist.

Maggot's pace forward kept going toward the crowd and the way he addressed Garian while walking by was bizarre. The vocalist screamed at the elf while averting his gaze entirely; his irises affixed entirely on the stage and his feet dragging toward it.

"How fortunate for us! Looks like a slot just opened for us Bloatfly! You can come see us after our set you corporate shit!!!"

It was a horrifically crude statement to make to the elf who was already in despair having to deal with the ramifications of his previous band being out of commission. It also was more than likely a flagrantly false assumption, but quite possibly made even worse by the "replacement" that would be trying to force their way to the stage in one way or the other. Maggot's neck snapped toward Tensil and his bloodshoot eyes ogled at the imp before he similarly screamed something at it as well. A stare so intense it looked as if Maggot was attempting to paralyze Tensil with it,

"Here!!! Take one of these! Start making fucking noise. I don't care how! Just fucking make noise!!! We're going to get on stage then we're going to make LOTS of noise! We're going to make so much noise! Like holy shit! I'm so heated right now!!!"

Maggot Corpse was hardly coherent after one sentence, it was often the case that when he rambled Maggot would begin stringing together words that seemed to form a sentence. Whether it was intentional or not was unknown, it was just a thing he did. More importantly however he turned around and unhooked one of the trash cans from the net it was ensnared in and kicked it over to Tensil as if expecting them to wield it in some way. The body language Maggot gave off made it unclear however as he would not bother to look behind him as he kept trudging toward the stage thereafter.

"Move! Get the fuck out my way!!! I'll cut you! I'll gut you! I'll burn my eyes with bleach!!!"

Maggot began shrieking at the audience members who were in his way as he began bumping into them recklessly. The remaining four trash cans being strung along by the rope similarly did so as if they held a consciousness of their own. Maggot Corpse walked as if he were a rigid stick held together by aggravation alone; a visceral hatred seemed to hang on every word he spat out. Foam began to gather at the corner of his mouth from a collection of spit that Maggot refused to wipe away. The vocalist continued with his compatriot until he either was able to scale the stage or was physically stopped by someone in their path.

 

[Gryphon3707]

BLOATFLY INCUBATOR

Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Sentient
Mentions: Eccentric_Undead

Bloatfly Incubator trudged along beside Maggot Corpse, the unsightly duo making sure that none dare cross their path. With Bloatfly merely following Maggot Corpse he once again fell into autopilot, his mouth hanging agape. A lone fly buzzing into the noxious cavern which was Bloatfly Incubators open mouth, the unfortunate insect was quickly caught by Bloatfly Incubators tongue, the muscle crushing the fly into the top of his mouth before swallowing. The vacant stare never leaving his face.

With Maggot Corpse cascading behind Bloatfly, dragging the trash and other various "instruments" that Shotgun Blowjob would need to use for their upcoming debut. It was quite difficult for Bloatfly Incubator to first hear the voices speaking but with Maggot Corpse halting his treacherous advance it didn't take long for Bloatfly Incubator to fixate on the two men arguing, suddenly and for no apparent reason also breaking into a cold sweat. The perspiration, matting his already greasy hair to his forehead. Obscuring his vision further although for Bloatfly Incubator it didn't matter much, he was barely conscious anyways.

Breaking from his trance suddenly the second half of Shotgun Blowjob glanced around, spotting Maggot Corpse in the crowd once again he began shuffling his way over, slipping in between the various crowd members as he closed in on his vocalist. Bloatfly's guitar occasionally ramming into disgruntled onlookers, the noise punker seemingly uninterested with their pain and complaints. Stumbling beside Maggot Corpse as they both ended in front of Garian. The Guitarist glanced to Tensil for a moment before placing his gaze on the bag of coin. Bloatfly Incubator speaking once again.

"Coin. The ultimate desire of man, unmatched greed ruining the realm as we know it. Corporations willingly to commit a species wide suicide merely to line their pockets. The greatest sin of all was allowing such material gains overtake our entire existence. Sons slaughter Fathers, Daughters murder Mothers all for currency manufactured by the same companies profiting from its mere existence. Do you not feel disgusted simply grasping it in your hand?"

For someone who gargled to get his point across moments ago Bloatfly was oddly well spoken, his tone dreary and dull. His head laying limp to the side as he made direct eye contact with the elf, sweating dripping from his face. His lips dry and flaking. The Incubators head rolled to his side, turning to Tensil as Maggot Corpse spoke to him, Bloatfly had nothing else to add to the Imp, spitting out a mere.

"GUURGNJG"

He unclipped the fishnet of broken plates currently hanging off his belt, tossing it to the Imp. Apparently it was meant to assist him with his goal of making noise, much like Maggot Corpse he didn't really need an answer to see if the creature would actually begin working towards the objective Shotgun Blowjob appointed him to. Turning back to Maggot Corpse he removed his amp off the back of the trash can net pile. Dragging it behind him as he followed the first half of Shotgun Blowjob to the stage that sat in front of them.

 

[Novama]

Mentions: Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk
OOC: Vaudivolt is dropping out. Too bad about fantasy. Let's see if we can salvage the rp and set the band up for their next gig. Let's shoot for 2 day rounds. Get this rp wrapped up by the end of the month.
Time: afternoon
Weather: summer heat, humid and sticky
Cooldown:
TLDR: Establishing scene with spectators gathering as the band is opposed by some large and brutish looking security that don't like them.
Post Listening:

Ryken Slums - Main Stage

​

Rolling through the chaotic landscape of the Slums Festival, there was a raw, unfiltered energy that clung to the air. Among the smattering of colorful figures navigating the labyrinth of pop-up tents and vendors, one of the crown jewels of the festival had been left desolate - the stage. The towering structure had a rugged charm, a patchwork of wooden pallets, and scaffoldings that bore testament to the spirit of the slums. Graffiti snaked across its facade, a vibrant mural of raw expression and rebellion.

A few figures of interest had already gathered in its vicinity. There was the sickly elf, Garian, nursing a bag of coins with a pained expression, and Tensil, an impish figure, who had been eyeing the bag with an unsettling interest. The glimmering coins had drawn more than just curious eyes; they had become a focal point of discontent and potential disorder.

Just when the tension was reaching a fever pitch, an audacious force of musical anarchy - the noise punk duo Shotgun Blowjob, comprised of Maggot Corpse and Bloatfly Incubator, sauntered in. These weren't your usual troubadours. Maggot's appearance and presence was unnerving to many a festival-goer. Bloatfly, on the other hand, sent chills down the spine of some spectators.

The stage was available, yet not so welcoming. Local security, a band of burly, tattoo-clad bruisers, had their eyes trained on the duo, their hands flexing around crude makeshift clubs. Their presence was a silent challenge to Shotgun Blowjob's declaration of claiming the stage, a barricade between the duo and their fevered desire to create a sonic explosion.

Caught in this boiling pot of tensions, the crowd, mostly a ragtag gathering of slum dwellers and adventurers, had grown restless. Whispers were spreading, brewing anticipation and fear in equal measure. Some yearned for the promised auditory assault, others feared the ensuing chaos that would undoubtedly accompany it.

Would Shotgun Blowjob break through the brute barrier, or would their punk fury be quelled? Only time would tell. The Slums Festival was living up to its reputation of unscripted drama, with the stage set for a showdown that would surely echo in the annals of slum legends. The electrified tension, the ruggedly charismatic stage, the characters dancing on the edge of a riot - all were elements of a true rock spectacle in the making.

 

[Myxyzptlk]

MAGGOT CORPSE

Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Blistering
Mentions Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ) Novama

Maggot had been impeded by the brutes holding their clubs. If the security detail meant to intimidate Shotgun Blowjob into turning away and exiting the festival it would hardly succeed. There was not an inch of instinct that hinged in Maggot's whittled synapses. Common sense never applied to the creature that was Maggot Corpse, his refusal to function normally had wired his brain to sacrifice his body in order to achieve goals beyond comprehension for the average person. In this case he was dead set on the concert that he needed to play; the intensity was matched in his reddened eyes. Over the course of four hours Maggot had willed himself into refusing to blink, his vision had blurred considerably and there was tears which had formed as a response.

"GGGAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

The vocalist's vocal chords slammed into one another to form the most pitched shrill gargle of a scream. His throat coddled the inner lining of his neck; spit formed deep within the wells and only added a sickening gristle to the roaring that was occurring in the middle of the festival grounds. The noise was maintained for so long that the inner temple that was Maggot's windpipe risked tearing asunder. It was more akin to a violent fit brought on by rabies than any joyous melody. As soon as it seemed the curdling scream could maintain itself forever, it slowly dissipated to a squeal of a wheeze by Maggot Corpse. There was an exasperation from the singer as every breath in his body seemed to be voluntarily forced out.

Then the randomness continued. Maggot whipped around and kicked one of the trash cans behind him. A metallic crunch was heard as shin hit sturdy aluminum before he began pounding the sides of the garbage unit with clenched fists. It was an entirely erratic sound that seemed to only prolong what looked to be a tantrum from someone who was plagued with a narcotics induced illness. Whatever melody Maggot was trying to create certainly would draw attention away from the curious whispers and rumoring that was going on from the crowd. When Maggot sang there was not a blade of grass's worth of clean vocals. The sound was harsh, unrelenting, an instrument of reckless passion.

The words that oozed out of Maggot's lips were of no importance. However, they were brash, offensive, and societally unacceptable by anyone who had been raised with two parents actively present in their lives. Nevermind the gestures Maggot made all the while as he serenaded the festival with drivel delivered with the full weight of his lung capacity. Things only complicated themselves further when Maggot ceased smashing the one aluminum trash can and reached for the microphone stand. The anarchist whipped around in a random direction, aiming at nothing in particular he delivered a particularly vile lyric.

The nature of his magic began to take root. Whatever was shot from Maggot's lips travelled forward through his instrument and echoed outward to any unsuspecting target who had happened to be standing in that vicinity. An ability, or rather a hex which insinuated an unreasonable surge of anger into whoever may have caught the plague. A shred of the emotion which inked deep into the veins of Maggot Corpse gifted onto another human being. Sores had cut open and blood oozed onto the microphone stand that was being strangled. Maggot's verbal onslaught would only continue until someone attempted to do something about it. And whenever Maggot began an aggressive tirade it was almost rarely the case that Bloatfly Incubator would not soon be following behind him in some audio tormenting.

• Pig Squeal - Magic E, Magic Range F, Performance F, Mind Control F - A high shrill pig squeal that is intended to incite anger in one person over a distance of 30 feet for an hour - Grade E - 1 Post Cooldown

 

[Gryphon3707]

BLOATFLY INCUBATOR

Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Provoked
Mentions: Novama

Bloatfly Incubator watched the thugs that blocked their way with an uncaring gaze, his eyes glazed over and his mouth left agape. Closing his mouth after only a moment and turning towards Maggot Corpse pile of trash, removing his amp from the back and plugging his guitar in. Throughout the duo's symbiotic relationship Bloatfly was able to learn Maggot Corpse patterns, as such he was able to guess what would come next and every vocalist needed a guitarist. Reaching into his front jacket pocket Bloatfly Incubators mangled and calloused fingers fished out a bile stained guitar pick.

Bloatfly returned his gaze to the two men blocking their path. As Maggot Corpse screamed Bloatfly played, his left hand being raised above his head with pick in hand as his right choked the neck of the guitar. His fingers clamping down on the cords, strands of blood escaping as the wires cut into the tips of his appendages. With one fluid motion he brought the pick down, the piece of plastic slamming down across all six strings. The noise being emitted from the amp harsh and unforgiving, the sound was sharp and jarring. Any consistency and rhythm being thrown out the window as Bloatfly Incubator picked at his guitar.

The lanky creature of a man danced around Maggot Corpse destruction, allowing the crashing and screaming to be easily incorporated into Bloatfly Incubators affront to music. To those unfamiliar with the noise it would sound like nothing, merely cords being slammed together in horrid fashion. To those aware of the music being played the song would be that of hatred and anger. Every slam of the guitar vitriolic in nature, every note an insult to everyone and everything. Hatred for the sake of hatred.

As Bloatfly Incubator played his magic began to form, nearby vicinity beginning to darken, lights seemingly snuffed out on their own and replaced by flashing spotlights. Illuminating only Maggot Corpse and Bloatfly Incubator.

• Synyster Gates - Magic E, AoE Magic F, Control Environment F, Performance F - As Bloatfly Incubator shreds on his guitar within 15ft of him darkens and lights begin flashing to simulate a Noise Punk concert - Grade E - 1 Post Cooldown

 

[Novama]

Mentions: Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk
OOC: looks like 2 days is too quick. moving to 3 days. I'll post again in 3 days.
Time: afternoon
Weather: summer heat, humid and sticky
Cooldown:
TLDR: One of the security is affected by maggot's squeal and lunges for him in rage. React or face one sided brutality. The crowd that gathers is stirring.
Post Listening:

Ryken Slums - Main Stage

As the unholy duet of Shotgun Blowjob raged on, a tangible ripple of confusion, anger, and begrudging awe spread through the crowd. The spectacle had captured their collective attention in an iron grip. Some recoiled, their brows furrowed in a mix of revulsion and bewilderment as they bore witness to this raw and visceral performance. Others, however, appeared entranced, their eyes wide with a curious mixture of shock and exhilaration. Perhaps they were drawn to the sheer audacity of it all, the unapologetic defiance that was the band's brand.

The sounds that Maggot Corpse and Bloatfly Incubator created weren't merely songs - they were serrated melodies of disdain and antagonism, brutally assaulting the airwaves. The band didn't just play music; they seemed to weaponize it, turning it into a device of disruption and anarchy.

Amid the tumult, a titan among the security staff emerged. His monolithic frame towered above the rest, a visible embodiment of authority and order in a sea of chaos. This hulking individual, known among the security detail as Brick, had been watching the spectacle with growing fury, his nostrils flaring with every offensive lyric and callous gesture.

His temper finally snapped when Maggot Corpse shot a particularly vile lyric towards the crowd, further fueling the simmering tension. It was a verbal assault meant to provoke, and it worked. Brick lunged at the vocalist with a roar of outrage, his massive hands extended towards Maggot's skeletal frame. (F grade attack)

The moment hung in the air, a clash of titanic wills. This was more than just a music festival; it had transformed into a battleground. Here was the establishment, represented by Brick, battling the epitome of rebellion in Maggot Corpse. It was a face-off that held the crowd spellbound, their collective breath held in suspense.

The outcome of this confrontation remained uncertain, but one thing was clear: Shotgun Blowjob had rocked the stage before even getting on stage and disrupted the peace of the festival in a way that nobody had anticipated. Their performance had become the unexpected highlight of the event, a clash of forces that no one would forget.

Brick

​

 

[Myxyzptlk]

MAGGOT CORPSE

Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Spiraling
Mentions: Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ) Novama

Maggot's vision blurred in due part to his maniacal thrashing on the festival grounds. Dirt scraped onto his skin through the wound in his broken shoes as a pathogen would. His balance too was seemingly off as his legs crossed over one another frequently and his lurching swayed him into stumbling over the trash cans that were turned into impromptu instruments. At times his hand frantically reached out and snagged one of the glass plates splattered among the ripped net. Maggot would in turn swing it from one side of his body and down into the floor in a maddening arc. The hollow thud of shattered glass on dirt made a disappointing sound of which Maggot's ears were not acutely aware to. For his earlobes were echoing with the cacophony of disorienting sounds all about him.

Short of creating his own hazards there was a menacing one storming his way toward the duo. It was a stark and glaring figure; audience members seemed to bend at his whim as he shouldered past them. Bodies bumped and others were shoved to the floor. Maggot in his own fury had nearly missed the hulking sentry charging him down. When Maggot's stinging eyes spotted the bull he had almost thought nothing of it. There was the smallest twinge of excitement which were muddled into the overload of emotions that slammed his nervous system. Maggot shuffled to get some balance, his body faced the crowd hovering around Brick.

Maggot let out a particularly vile growl. The lyrics of which were almost indeterminable from the sound of a rustic toilet bowl flushing a centuries worth of fecal matter. There was a particular loathing behind the noise. As bile hung low to the chest register and irritation mounted in the larynx. Each throbbing sound cooked into the microphone in a way where it seemed directed toward the audience members near Brick. The urge to take action and retaliate mounted in the roots of Maggot's nervous system. The vocalist's shouts portrayed that emotion in the delivery. The singer eyeing the unit down expectant of the brutality to come whether for good or bad.

• Low Growl - Magic E, Area of Effect F, Performance F, Mind Control F- A low groveling growl which causes listeners in the immediate range of a 15 foot radius to get angry and riot for an hour - Grade E - 1 Post Cooldown

 

[Gryphon3707]

BLOATFLY INCUBATOR

Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Feral
Mentions: Novama

Bloatlfy Incubator continued to dance around the chaotic mess ensuing among the festival grounds. Jumping from spot to spot slamming down on the strings of his guitar, incoherent blood curdling sounds being emitted from his amp. Bloatfly avoided the wrecking ball which was Maggot Corpse, in true guitarist fashion he played around him. Occasionally lashing out at the various spectator with a kick of shove. Thrashing his head forward and back, his hair moving with the terrifying noise being created by his instrument. The hulking figure of Brick dragging his attention as he watched his vocalist and the enlarged man face off.

Excitement filled Bloatfly as he watched the men meet, cackling as he jumped up and down with uncontainable excitement. This was the most feral Bloatfly generally got, only in times of violence and performance. Blood began pouring from both nostrils with the light show going on being further distorted and seizure inducing. Incubator watched intently with his wide bloodshot eyes at the events which may unfold next.

 

[Novama]

Mentions: Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk
OOC: Keep me posted on when you guys feel like posting. After this round, we'll be going into the final scene for this roleplay and chapter in shotgun blowjob. Also note that E grade ability was still on cooldown this round. When 1 e grade ability is used, all e grade abilities go on cooldown.
Time: afternoon
Weather: summer heat, humid and sticky
Cooldown:
TLDR: Brick got maggot. Brick dropped Maggot. Brick now moves to restrain Maggot while backup has been called in already.
Post Listening:

Ryken Slums - Main Stage

Amid the cacophony of sound and the chaotic dance of anarchy, the crowd's reaction was beginning to shift from one of curiosity to an overwhelming sense of electric anticipation. Fans of the underground scene recognized the raw energy of Shotgun Blowjob, but even the casual festival-goer was mesmerized by the showdown that was shaping up in front of their very eyes. Some cheered, some jeered, but no one could take their eyes off the spectacle. Whispers of "This is rock 'n' roll" reverberated through the gathering storm.

Brick, a giant of a man and as unyielding as his namesake, was a well-known figure in the security scene. A stern enforcer of order, he was now the center of everyone's attention as he powered his way towards the frenzied singer, Maggot. No one was safe from Brick's relentless path; he easily overpowered any unfortunate soul in his way, with the force of a bulldozer and a determination that was palpable. The crowd parted, half in fear, half in fascination, as he reached his target.

Brick's enormous hand grabbed Maggot by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him roughly into the air.

Time seemed to stand still, and the crowd's gasps were nearly drowned out by the lingering echoes of Bloatfly's guitar. In that moment, the effects of Maggot's [Pig Squeal] ability seemed to dissipate, leaving Brick free and focused, his eyes clear and his grip unyielding. The tension was unbearable, the held breaths of witnesses almost deafening.

With a disdainful grunt, Brick unceremoniously dropped Maggot to the ground, a thud that resonated in the hearts of those who witnessed it. The audience was left in stunned silence, torn between the rebellious energy of rock and roll and the realization that the line between performance and reality had been crossed.

Brick's mind snapped into focus, the maddening effect of Maggot's [Pig Squeal] ability dissipating as if a heavy fog lifting. His eyes narrowed, professional instincts taking over, and he quickly assessed the chaotic scene around him. The wild energy of the band Shotgun Blowjob, the frenzied crowd, the shards of glass and debris—it was a powder keg ready to explode.

With a practiced hand, he reached for his sending stone, calling in additional security support, his voice steady and authoritative. As he glanced at the figure of Maggot, a brief flicker of something like regret passed through his eyes. But there was no time for that now. Safety was paramount.

Brick's large frame moved with surprising grace as he would again go after Maggot, but this time to try and restrain Maggot, his actions methodical and deliberate. (E grade Attack) The crowd's reaction was a mix of awe and confusion, their cheers and jeers a distant roar in Brick's ears. His entire focus was on the task at hand: maintaining order, ensuring safety, and managing the unpredictable band before things spiraled further out of control.

The festival had taken an unexpected turn, and Brick knew that he was now at the epicenter. The next moments would be critical, and he was ready to face whatever came next.

The crowd held its collective breath, waiting to see what would come next from Shotgun Blowjob. The day was barely half over, and the festival's tale was far from over.

Brick

 

[Myxyzptlk]

MAGGOT CORPSE

Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Elated
Mentions: Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ) Novama

The sweat drenched from his shoulders and down to his hands. They followed the course of his veins and moistened the grip on Maggot's microphone. The singer's free hand had preoccupied itself with the base of the microphone stand. Unkempt nails dug into the skin on the palm of his hand; the tirade of slurs and vocal fry continued until his vocal chords were clasped together by the stiff concrete fingers which lifted Maggot Corpse into the air. This of course did not stop Maggot's attempt to perform although what little escaped emerged in the form of gurgles and croaks. Drool foamed it's way downwards onto Brick's hand and pooled at the wrists.

There was a gust of wind which brute forced its way into Maggot Corpse's lungs when his windpipe unclogged. There was a motion blur and he felt the center of his mass sink downward linearly. Maggot Corpse unable to comprehend the nature of gravity in the moment landed on the tips of his toes with one foot and on the base of his heel with another. The landing was awkward and his forearm scraped against the many layers of dirt and glass. There was crimson which cut into his beige paper skin. A satisfying peel of which began tattooing leaking marks and unthreading old scars. There was no yelp from Maggot Corpse as his overstimulated nervous system was currently ravaged by a host of other emotions and sensations.

He gazed at the turquoise sky and the turquoise sky gazed back. In his eyes riddled with nonsense he watched as the clouds formed indecipherable shapes. Wisps of cloud brushed their fingers together before bashfully retracting their palms from another. They animated and zig zagged into weird malformed shapes, a language spoken that no man could wish to decipher. They encoded and transcribed joyously before translating into phrases that Maggot Corpse properly understood. Bold font formed a catalyst for blue to fill in, as the letters filled shape he knew what they spelled out.

"SKRAM"

The meaning became readily clear to the shriveling & blooming larvae. What the welcoming text failed to visually perceive however was Maggot Corpse's instinctive reaction to the pain which was already manufacturing due to the forcefulness of Brick. The writhing carp had been audibly galvanizing the instrument he held with the sounds of static shock and malcontent. The harmony vomited from his lips with a high pitched gravely shrieking. Lyrics irradiated the atmosphere with the song of self-loathing. The consequences of blurting the unrelenting notes completely absent to Maggot Corpse.

The punker had only one directive with his spasming. Magic unfortunately drifted into the occupied space with an erratic boogey; it embraced the listeners with a chilly hug. Parasitic spikes latching itself into their skins and swirling into their ear canals. The collateral to come was an intended end-stage development designed to be terminal to any who offered themselves to it. Brick's momentary lapse from bloodlust to sanity would be providence for Maggot Corpse to act upon. The taunting was incessant and the spell violently lettered to the audience who donated their auditory stimuli to Shotgun Blowjob.

• Harsh Fry Scream - Magic E, Magic Area of Effect F, Performance F, Mind Control F, Magic Range F - A powerful metal scream which incites listeners within a 15 foot radius & 30 foot distance to incite anger into the intended targets and cause them to riot uncontrollably for an hour - Grade E - 1 Post Cooldown

 

[Gryphon3707]

BLOATFLY INCUBATOR

Time: Early Afternoon
Mood: Explosive
Mentions: Novama

The chaotic scene which unfolded in front of Bloatfly Incubator merely made the barely sentient guitarist of Shotgun Blowjob increasingly more rabid, laughing as the man jumped from one foot to the other shaking he head violently as he did this. The increasing downpour of blood exiting his nasal cavity beginning to be sprayed and cast out among the aggravated crowd. Slinking towards Brick, Bloatfly incubators bloodshot eyes darted back and forth as he moved towards the very large man. Attempting to come up behind him as he slammed on the strings of his Guitar. Bloatfly waited for a moment before opening his mouth and projectile vomiting on the man.

Laughing after his did so Incubator attempted to retreat slightly. Bouncing away while still facing Brick, the cackling of a creature that was merely an affront to whatever God created it filled the air as Bloatfly Incubator watched brick with overwhelming excitement at what the very large security guard may do next. His calloused and bleed fingers still slamming on his guitar. Incubator seemingly uncaring to the reinforcements that would soon arrive.

 

[Novama]

Mentions: Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk
OOC: Last scene. Rp pretty much ends when we ready for it to end at this point. The band came, they saw, and now its time to flee or get arrested.
Time: Late Afternoon/Early Evening
Weather: summer heat, humid and sticky
Cooldown:
TLDR: Maggot started stacking bodies and creating a crowd that raged out of control. Now the stage is wrecked and the crowd is mostly dead, unconscious, or dispersed. Security and Shotgun Blowjob or most of what remains.
Post Listening:

Ryken Slums - Main Stage

Shotgun Blowjob had made its mark at the Slum Music Festival in the most shocking way possible, and as the rock and roll crowd reveled in the chaos, even the seasoned security were caught off guard.

While Brick's built immunity shielded him from the incendiary influence of Maggot's screeches in the latest go around, he was not immune to the backlash of the psychic wave that rattled from the singer's core. An unseen force, like a tsunami of emotions, rippled through the crowd, causing a number of concertgoers to keel over instantly, unconscious before they even hit the ground. Those who remained upright were fueled by an unknown rage, their eyes wild, fighting with others around them or sometimes with just the air, as if battling their own demons. Maggot's eerie power had done its trick.

Brick, fighting the sudden pain in his head, lunged at Maggot for a second round of apprehension. But before he could lay a hand on the squirming singer, Bloatfly was there, guitar in hand, creating a literal barrier of sound and mania. The guitarist's intervention, a chaotic blend of strings and vomit, bought Maggot some precious seconds.

Just as Brick was about to regroup, his backup team arrived, the festival's elite security force. However, instead of going for the band members, they were immediately engaged in combat with the few frenzied audience members, turned rabid from Maggot's sounds. Punches were thrown, bodies were slammed, and the previously ecstatic atmosphere had turned into a battlefield.

---

Late Afternoon...

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden-red hue on what was once the prime festival ground. The scene now resembled a war zone. The stage? Demolished. Equipment? Ruined. And the field was now littered with unconscious bodies, some potentially lifeless, of concertgoers who had once swayed to the music's beat.

Security personnel, most of them bruised and battered, were now on a desperate mission to apprehend the members of Shotgun Blowjob. Distant crowd onlookers, those lucky or wise enough to stay at the fringes of the madness, stared in disbelief. They whispered among themselves, staying clear of the core ground zero, others just trying to process the horrors they'd witnessed.

It was a day that would go down in rock and roll history. The Slum Music Festival had promised an epic time of performances. But nobody, absolutely nobody, could have foreseen the havoc Shotgun Blowjob would unleash. It was a performance that would be talked about for generations – for all the wrong reasons.

Brick

 

[Myxyzptlk]

MAGGOT CORPSE

Time: Early afternoon
Mood: Buzzing
Mentions: Bloatfly Incubator ( Gryphon3707 ) Novama

After a certain point in the cataclysmic concert Maggot's eardrums were filled with little more than just a buzzing pitch. There was a peculiar numbness which flourished in his ears, causing him to feel removed from reality. Maggot's senses betrayed him in awkward ways; giving form to an almost third-person perspective. The curdling shouting hardly felt as if it came from him after so much of it throughout the course of the night. A state of paralysis as the meat machine Brick sauntered over Maggot's body only to be violently blown away by the barrier of sound that Bloatfly Incubator churned out. A projection of force which staved Maggot's otherworldly descent into catatonia.

Maggot shuffled to his feet, his body retracting and coiling like some bent, thin wire. The spell had all but claimed hearts and minds alike once the singer recouped. As soon as he was on his heels the shift of balance was shaken around and about. Confusion swirled into a mosh pit which vortexed into a full scale riot. The blessing of chaos was all that Maggot Corpse had desired on that evening. The relentless anarchy that corrupted the audience was a consecration of the holy ground on which they stood upon. Maggot's index fingers tunneled into his own ears as if to feel the sound of barbarism itself. The saucy leakage of blood was familiar to him, how long had he been drizzling so?

Brick became an afterthought for the band as the landslide of bodies blurred Maggot's vision to the man at the apex of the festivity. Haymakers flew over Maggot's scalp and elbows scraping past his ears. When a body full of vigor stiffened and entrenched itself into the floor there was a tinge of euphoria which entered the mind. However many hours dissolved into minutes throughout the frenzy was amiss. In the aftermath of the chaos there was hardly a thing recognizable about the soil they stood upon. The stage was deconstructed and torn asunder by an erosion of vicious hands. People's faces and bodies had adorned a gross leathery texture after they vaccinated their beings with concussive brawls.

At the point in which there was a sense of cohesion in the concert Maggot had been making his exit. Certainly not without tripping over a carcass of some unconscious party goer who had become drunk with brain damage following the ensuing battle. There was a ringing, a warm hum, a buzz which hovered in the confines of his brain. A lofty concussion from the boulders which crashed into his skull when Brick assaulted him. Maggot Corpse's own decorative concussion which whistled and caused his vision to shirk at any photosensitivity. Maggot pitifully clung to his microphone in one hand and the microphone stand scraped against the floor in another. The rest of their "instrumentation" was left far behind like some sick memorial to those who harmed another at the festival.

 

[Novama]

Mentions: Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk
OOC: Thanks for playing. grade will be coming later. Get the band into their next thread to keep things rolling.
Time: Late Afternoon/Early Evening
Weather: summer heat, humid and sticky
Cooldown:
TLDR: the end
Post Listening:

Ryken Slums - Main Stage

In the dusk of that fateful evening, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the grounds of what was once a pulsating musical utopia lay in ruins. It bore witness to what many are already calling the most tumultuous concert of the decade. At the center of the maelstrom: Shotgun Blowjob, the enigmatic band who'd defied all expectations.

The band left trails of the festival's pandemonium behind them. Their once animated figures seemed almost ghostly now, specters of the explosive energy that had once coursed through.

As the dust settled, it was clear that Shotgun Blowjob had left an indelible mark. A sea of unconscious or barely stirring bodies littered the grounds, victims of the sonic warfare and the subsequent physical confrontations. Overturned equipment, mangled instruments, and a demolished stage stood as testaments to the band's ability to incite unbridled chaos.

Witnesses who managed to retain some sense of composure recounted tales of Brick, the behemoth security guard who'd become a key player in the drama, being held back by reinforcements trying to contain the crowd's sudden fury. Yet, as night blanketed the scene, even he seemed lost amidst the wreckage, a mere footnote in Shotgun Blowjob's anarchic symphony.

Across the slum gossip, fans and critics alike are torn. Some hail the band's performance as a masterclass in punk defiance, a rebellion against the sanitized norms of today's music scene. Others see it as a dangerous descent into chaos, a reminder of the thin line between art and anarchy.

But perhaps the band's legacy isn't to be found in these debates. Instead, it's in the ringing ears, the bruises, and the memories – both harrowing and exhilarating – of those who were there. For they bore witness to a moment that will be etched in rock 'n' roll history, a performance that truly lived up to its name: a shotgun blast to the senses, a musical experience that none will forget.

And as the first rays of dawn shimmered over the now-quiet festival grounds, one message was clear: the world of rock and roll will never be quite the same again.

The End

​

 

[Novama]

Isekai Hell Grade​

Eccentric_Undead Gryphon3707 Myxyzptlk Vaudivolt

Changed hands and lost a player but it finished and that's what matters.

Aftermath:
The band known as Shotgun Blowjob would be banned from any music venue in Ryke slums until further notice due to the ruckus they raised at that year's music festival. Other Ryke venue's would be made warned about them as well.

Rewards:

Novama - 14pts (narrator bonus)

Maggot - 37pts
optional asset acquired [Member of Shotgun Blowjob F] - character is a member of the infamous band Shotgun Blowjob.

Bloatfly - 20pts
optional asset acquired [Member of Shotgun Blowjob F] - character is a member of the infamous band Shotgun Blowjob.

partial participation

Tensil - 7pts

fantasy reborn rewards can be requested if he returns