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Snippet #1790099

located in Pilgrim High, a part of Snowpocalypse: High School, one of the many universes on RPG.

Pilgrim High

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Clap.


Clap.


A dark figure descended the dim, hollow stairways of the Science Tower, accompanied by the mysterious dimming of lights with each step the figure took.
A Man ....nay, a highschooler, taller than Oan, in jet black robes of finest polyester laced red thread that formed intricate patterns throughout the costume. Skin, pale as white. Hair, black as night. His hands clasped together for a final.

CLAP.

"Well ...well..." Voice cold as the air that preserved lowest levels of the Tower, echoed throughout it.

"Visitors ..." He said contemptuosly.

"And they brought gifts. Oan the Ghost," Only one faction LARPers in this school refered to a GM that way, and they were the LARPwrights, adept storytellers who had perfected their craft and wrote the scripts of legend singlehandedly, they were known for being aloof and proud but for good reason -for someone had to write out a LARP and no one was better at that than a LARPwright.



Image




And no LARPwright was better than this one, who stood before them in the most realistic outfit of an *Wu-Jen. Complete with katana and tassled talismans.


He flicked a gaze at the addled jocks. "That's all you're going to do? ...Demand for food?" Then turned back to look at Oan and his crew, quirking an eyebrow. The two subfactions never saw eye to eye exactly, to the LARPwrights, the GMs were too involved in their games to see the meaning behind each LARP. And to the GMs, the LARPwrights had their heads too high in the clouds too see anything beyond their books and scripts.

"And what if they launch a coordinated attack on us while deciding..." He warned before shaking his head and sauntering over to the other two jocks, lifting their walkie-talkies out of their holders. Trusting the others to hold them down. LARPers may not agree with each other all the time, but they will not fight one another outside a duel. That much, he had confidence in.

"Now ....a little control of the situation." He flipped the devices so that each reciever faced the speaker of the other device's and tied them together with a shoelace he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. And when he activated both on at the same time, an ear-piercing screech filled the walkie-talkies' channels as audio output fed into input in a never-ending, ever-growing cycle.


SSSSssssrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEECCCCHHHHH!!!

He turned down the volume.

"Now, WE are in control of their communication. They can gather and try to re-coordinate their devices, waste their time, and we'll simply tune in to theirs right after. Eitherway, they won't be able to speak to each other over this ....noise-I mean, interference." He smiled gently as the jocks' channels were screwed with.


"Isn't it time we attacked them back?"



**An Wu Jen is an Eastern Sorcerer in the world of Dungeons and Dragons.