Super Otaku Brawl - Round One: Traverse Town

Nancy's fingers twitched, tapped against the familiar hardness of her typewriter. She'd rolled herself up into a bundle of nerves in preparation for something stressful and terrifying. Instead she'd found herself sitting in a living room amid a cacophony of dogs, drinking a seemingly infinite supply of tea.
All the while, Crabman had droned on about ancient dynasties and whippersnappers, lost jungle temples and the stock market.
All that did was give her no easy way to release the pent up terror. She needed to get out of here, find somewhere quiet, and think things over.

Anger Crabman spoke of times long gone, times which seemed frankly absurd. He was either very old, very mad, or both. Still, she'd typed out some notes. Maybe they'd come in handy some time.
She doubted it. Who cared about the legacy of Largenose III or Doc Coulton. Especially as they were probably entirely fictitious.
She glanced at Jake, preoccupied with the crackers. Anger Crabman, blustering about a secret meeting with some kind of magic IT consultant and a talking horse. Mr. Radcliffe, making the face of someone whose guests have outstayed their welcome but is too polite to ask them to leave. Jake, fidgeting on the back of a chair. He chirped softly to her.
"What is this guy's deal? Half of this doesn't even make any sense."
"I don't know. Nothing here makes any sense. The whole idea of a crazy battle and everything. I mean, this whole town is full of... Talking animals!"
She paused for a second after the outburst, aware that she'd interrupted the ancient Trol's droning. He didn't seem to care. A nervous smile crept across her lips. "...No offense, I mean."

Tobias cocked his head. If he had any recognisable body language he'd be displaying all the signs of worry. He didn't know precisely who Nancy was just yet, but she was clearly in over her head. If she was in over her head, then he was in deeper, after all, his head was technically a lot closer to the ground. She also seemed least likely to turn on him, maybe after Crabman by virtue of having no real motivation to do so, other than just being generally ill-tempered.
"It's no problem.", he squawked. "Would you like to find somewhere with less dogs?"


She stopped to consider it; Jake seemed to be the nicest person so far, for a very unspecific definition of 'person'. One more inclusive to feathers.
She fidgeted with the gun in her pocket, something he probably wouldn't miss. Birds were essentially eyes with wings, after all.
After some thought, she spoke.

"Yes," she said. "As a matter of fact, I think I would."

***

Crabman had been sceptical as to the intentions of the cadre. Revolutions happened all the time, and the two he had spoken to had all the signs.
He tried not to involve himself in revolutions now-a-days. Best to leave things to run their natural course. He always had a bit of a soft spot for the underdog, but if he started taking sides again, people would remember he existed other than as one of those abstract footnotes in the Guinness Book of Trol World Records.
Last time, he'd ended up being fired in a rocket into the sun. It had taken him almost six thousand years to get home to exact his revenge. By the time he returned, empires had risen and fallen, and the Trol race had returned to a hunter-gatherer state.
That had sucked. Hunter-gatherers were boring as hell.

He helped himself to a croissant that had all the texture and palette of cardboard.
"You are of course here because you were invited," said Tinkle Bellis, "but the reason you were invited is this; As you are no doubt aware, Baron Von Wasteland isn't actually the real prime minister!"
Yep, revolution.
"He is in fact guided by some unseen force, the same force who commands the enigmatic and very mysterious unit we have identified as the Salyer."
Crabman nodded. He didn't really know where they got their information from, but he genuinely didn't care. He was missing Boners for this.
"The prophet of mya," -that piqued his interest- "has said that this force may be inextricably connected to you in ways even he cannot fathom."
Crabman piped up. "whozza proffit? th olly one I kno is... well shes too busy for that seein malarkey nowadays nshit."
It took a moment for Tinkle Bellis to interpret that. She scowled. "What?"
"all im sayin is that shes way busy yeh whozza proffit?"
The woman gestured to the third troll. He was wearing a tinfoil hat and was vibrating like a hamster fed nothing but dr pepper and vitamin C tablets for its entire life.
As if hearing the other two talking about him, he juddered over.
"hey wat up", said Crabman.
The man doubled over backwards and whispered, lips black and cracked; "As The First One's Lemniscate Spool Unwinds, So Shall The Thread Fray And With It Shall All Worlds, For The Pulley Is Adjoined Unto Creation Itself. The First And Last, Decider Of All. Also Your Cable Subscription Is Due Renewal."
"id betre do that then thanks pal"
"No Problem."
Soupgal grimaced, every disgusting muscle in his face tensing up.
It was horrible.

***

In the present, Crabman shook his head, finding himself in a room deserted but for far too many dogs and their particularly irate owners. "aw whertheheckd those guys go? I was gonna tell em about seasson 4 of trol eastenders. them hackey writey gal bird sack kids. sure cant trust em bout anything these days", he muttered.