Speaker 1: Hello there, inner galactic explorers, lovers of lore and fans
of tensions so thick you could slice it with a
laser blade. Welcome to the Insentment ser Rise of the Trympikens.
This episode is packed with revelations, action, and dare I
say a little bit of will they won't they? Energy
from our favorite galactic duo. Let me paint you a picture.
We've got ancient secrets so juicy they'd make the stars blush,
a battle in the Grand Hall that could be its
own light show at Coachella, and a cult of radioactive
Zelots who are way too into their golden idol. Oh,
and don't forget Rylex are brave historian and Selmont, the
space druid with serious leadership vibes, are trapped in a
decaying bust, surrounded by these creepy Trimpikens. But it's not
all doom and gloom, because every time these two share
a glance or a whispered word, the cosmos itself seems
to hold its breath. Is it friendship? Is it something more?
The only way to find out is to keep watching,
So strap in star gazers, because this episode is going
to blow your galactic sucks off.
Speaker 2: Deep within the shadowy recesses of the cloister, a sanctuary
steeped in history and birded by the past. Rity stands
alone before the pulsing core of the Addocks. The weathered
walls bear the carvings of ancient symbols etched by hands
long ago, their meanings whispered only in the wind. The
air is thick with the scent of stone and faint
metallic tang of the Yaddox's power. Cloister thirteen, once a
place of reverence and connection to the space Druids, now
feels like a hollow echo of what it once was.
Marity approaches the central crystalline interface of the Addocks. Her
hands tremble slightly as she reaches out, the Covenant band
on her wrist, faintly glowing.
Speaker 3: The Addox shire I'm here. I don't know what I'm
supposed to ask. I don't know what I'm supposed.
Speaker 4: To do, Marity, daughter of Verona. The time has come
for you to learn the truth.
Speaker 5: Verona? What's Verona? What truth? You always speak in riddles?
Speaker 4: Not this time. You are on the precipice of destiny.
Two will come, and with them the Turning of ages.
But first you must understand the legacy you carry, the
scars from which you were born, scars.
Speaker 5: I don't understand. I don't know what you mean.
Speaker 4: Then listen, I will tell you the story of Verona
Outpost and the bloodline from which you descend.
Speaker 2: The hum of the Attock's deepens, a faint glow illuminating
the chamber. A Shire's voice grows steadier, carrying the weight
of centuries.
Speaker 4: Verona Outpost was founded by Shire, a space drude who
defied the great ceiling. She rejected the isolation that others
deemed necessary and carved a sanctuary from the chaos beyond.
Verona Outpost was a vision of unity and innovation, its
towering white walls a testament to resilience. Yet it was
not without its challenges. Within those walls, the Mantcusing capulates
two great families struggled against the rigid rules of the authority,
and their rivalry simmered just beneath the surface. Still, Verona thrived,
a beacon of strength and hope for those who dared
to dream of something more.
Speaker 3: Montague's cabulets, I've never heard those names before.
Speaker 4: They are part of the history that shaped you, But
there is one name you must know above all others. Rosalind,
your ancestor. She was among the finest of the womb
of the Covenant, a woman whose wisdom guided Verona through
its most turbulent times. Yet her story is one of
both triumph and tragedy. Mercutio, a man consumed by ambition
betrayed what was sacred, and from that union came you,
a living symbol of both pain and perseverance.
Speaker 3: I I am descended from someone like that, from someone
who who suffered so much.
Speaker 4: You are than their pain. You are their hope. Rosalind's
strength courses through you, and the spirit of Rona lives
on in your veins. But the time for learning is over,
the time for doing is near.
Speaker 5: What do you mean what's coming?
Speaker 4: Two will come, Mary Tea. They will bring the dawn
of a new age, But only if you are ready.
The legacy of Verona is now your burden to bear.
Speaker 2: The light from the Yaddocks dims slightly, the hum fading
to a whisper marriage. He steps back, her breath unsteady,
her mind reeling from the revelation.
Speaker 5: I don't know if I can do this.
Speaker 4: You must, but you will not face it alone.
Speaker 2: The truth has been unveiled and the stage is set.
Marity has learned of her lineage, her scars, and the
weight of her destiny. But now it is time to
delve deeper into the struggles that shaped the world. Beneath
the towering dome of the anuk Sphere, a place bathed
in shimmering ethereal light, three figures stand amidst the convergence
of fate and discord. King solomonte Coreleix, and Shy, the
triumvariant of Hylama's destiny, face each other. Their voice is
echoing with tension.
Speaker 6: The Great Ceiling is the only way to ensure Hylema
survives the chaos that ravages the world beyond isolation? Is
our salvation collex salvation or stagnation?
Speaker 7: My king?
Speaker 8: Ceiling ourselves away denies the world the light of Hilema.
It denies humanity a chance to rise from the ashes.
Speaker 4: And what of us, one of those who refuse to
be chained to a future dictated by fear? The Great
Ceiling is not salvation. It is an act of cowardice.
Speaker 6: Cowardice you dare speak to me of cowardice? While the
lands beyond crumble into ruin. I will not gamble with
the lives of our people, Sheira. Spear will shield us,
and the Yadducks will guide.
Speaker 4: Yet this machine you so revere was built by hands
no better than ours, and yet you place it above us,
above our will, above our ingenuity.
Speaker 8: Shirah, the Yaddocks is not a master. It is a
servant of wisdom. It holds the knowledge of the ancients,
the calculations of a thousand possibilities. It is the key
to ensuring.
Speaker 4: Balance, balance, balance that comes at the cost of freedom. No, Corlx,
this is not balance. This is tyranny cloaked in light.
If you and Salimente wish to seal high Lima, so
be it. But I will not be bound by your fear.
Speaker 6: Shira, tread carefully. Your defiance borders on.
Speaker 4: Betrayal, betrayal to whom, to a machine, to a vision
I do not share. No Solomonte. I choose life. I
choose freedom and the power to carve my own path.
Speaker 2: Shirah strides towards the glowing central interface of the addox,
her hand raised the addock's pulses, emitting a low, ominous hum.
Corlax steps forward, raising his covenant band, which glows with
an intricate green pattern.
Speaker 8: Shira, I cannot allow this. The balance must be maintained.
Speaker 2: The air grows heavy as the energy from Corlac's covenant
band swirls around him, forming a barrier. King Solomonte draws
a shimmering blade from his side, its edges glowing with
the same light that Rylex's weapon is known for.
Speaker 6: You've made your choice, Shira. Now face the consequences.
Speaker 4: If it's a fight you want salimente, I will show
you the strength of a true Druid.
Speaker 2: Shire lifts her own covenant band, its deep purple light
illuminating her definite stance. Energy crackles as the three prepared
to clash. Shire strikes first, sending a wave of violet
energy that collides with Coralex's barrier. The impact ripples through
the hall, shaking its foundation.
Speaker 8: Shirah, this madness will destroy us.
Speaker 4: All only your illusions of control.
Speaker 2: In. Solomonte charges forward, his blade, cutting through the energy,
forcing Shire back. She counters with a focus burst from
her covenant band, narrowly missing him but shattering a pillar nearby.
Corlac strengthens his barrier, attempting to contain the destruction, the
Grand Hall of alex Spear became a battleground, the ancient
light of the Yadducks, passing ominous shadows on those sworn
to protect Hilama. Energy clashed with raw will, each blow
echoing with the weight of century's old tensions. As the
battle rages, Shier focuses their energy on the Yadduck's interface.
With a surge of violet light, she siphons a fragment
of its power, her covenant ban glowing brighter than ever.
Speaker 9: Warning, unauthorized access detected fragmentation initiated corruption in mainframe.
Speaker 10: Stability alert.
Speaker 9: Stability alert New American Government ship detected some failure trip
against thirty miles from outer wall.
Speaker 6: This madness danger.
Speaker 4: You endanger yourselves by clinging to this illusion of control.
I will take my followers, and when will build a
future free from your chain system failure.
Speaker 2: With a final burst of light, Shire withdrawals her hand.
The Yadock's flickers momentarily before stabilizing. Shire turns and walks
towards the hall's exit, Her followers, predominantly space druids, silently
following in line behind her.
Speaker 4: I choose freedom, and so.
Speaker 2: Shire a space druid of unchanted resolve led her followers
to forge their own path. They would found Verona Outpost,
her first cloister and outpost for a new clan. It
was the birth of a sanctuary shaped by freedom, defiance,
and a stolen power of the Yaddocks. Meanwhile, the seeds
of discord with Hylama were sown, heralding a future of
uncertain unity and growing fractures. Welcome, Yaddocks.
Speaker 10: Stop your riddles and denials. Tell me what lies beyond Hilema.
I demand and to.
Speaker 7: Know enquiry denied. Access to external data is.
Speaker 11: Restricted, restricted, That's absurd. What use is a machine meant
to safeguard us if it hides the truth? What are
Rylachs and Solmont really walking into?
Speaker 7: You seek knowledge very well? I will tell you of
the Tripekens, a threat born of humanity's darkest hour. After
the Great Ceiling, seven tribes were abandoned to the wastelands.
These were humanities unwanted, those deemed unworthy of Highlemba's light.
They struggled against a poisoned earth, their bodies and minds
eroded by radiation and starvation. Desperation led them to consolidate
into the seven tribes of Trump, bound by an ideology
of survival at all costs. Their leader, a charismatic fanatic,
invoked the image of Trump, a godlike figure they believed
would rise again to restore their dominion over the earth.
This faith fuelled their unity, their rituals, and their cruelty.
Over generations, they devolv'd inbreeding and mutating into grotesque forms.
Their appearance reflects the horrors of their descent. Their flesh
bears the marks of inbreeding and chemical exposure. Their faith,
rooted in Christian nationalism, binds them in a zealous hatred
of all who reject their proper They believe in a
prophecy that Trump will return when the world is purged
of the unworthy. To hasten this rebirth, they perform sacrifices,
human sacrifices. Their rituals are brutal, bloody acts designed to
invoke their God's favour. They call themselves trypicans. Now no
longer human in mind or form, their hatred burns brightest
for those who live beyond their reach. Those in the
light of Hyleima, Relex and Salmon's presence has awakened them.
The Triympicans stir their hunger for blood rekindled. The Trympiicans
are not to be underestimated. Their savagery has consumed count lives,
their faith unshakable.
Speaker 10: So this is what those two are facing. Perhaps they're
arrogance will finally meet its match.
Speaker 7: Even Dawn offers only temporary reprieve. Riyles and Salamont will
need more than arrogance to survive.
Speaker 10: Let them face it. Let's see how far their heroics
take them.
Speaker 2: Outside the safety of the bus. Dollywood is a graveyard
of memories. It's once vibrant at traction, is now consumed
by decay and vegetation. Rusting roller coasters twist into the
sky like a skeleton. Inside the bus, the air is
thick with tension. Rylas and Psalmons sit in silence, their
breath shallow as they listen to the unsettling sounds outside.
The faint glow of the beacon cast an eerie pattern.
It's warning clear, prepare to run. Relax and Selmons sit
in the suffocating stillness of the ancient bus, their eyes
darting toward every creek and groan of the structure outside.
The night is alive with the grotesque chaos of Trypicans.
The distant guttural cries of the Trypeicans echoes through the
ruins of Dollywood. Their voices carry an otherworldly cadence, blending
shrills laughter with deep guttural growls.
Speaker 5: They're getting closer.
Speaker 9: We're sitting ducks in here, Salmont, and there's no way out.
Speaker 2: We wait, the beacon said, sunrise. If we run now,
won't make it ten feet. What if the beacon's wrong?
Speaker 10: What if this thing doesn't even work anymore?
Speaker 5: I mean, look at it.
Speaker 6: It's ancient.
Speaker 2: Hey, hey, look at me. It's gotten us this far,
hasn't it. We just have to hold on a little longer.
Speaker 5: Together, together, always together.
Speaker 2: Ryley swallows hard, his breathing uneven as he meets Salmont's gaze.
The moment lingers a fragile sense of calm between them,
as the chaos outside grows louder. Outside, the grotesque form
of the Trivican shuffle and lurch in the moonlight, glisten
with a sick leiche, their deformed faces painted with a
crude symbol of devotion. Some have multiple eyes, glowing faintly
like embers, while others bear jagged, malformed limbs tipped with
sharp claws. The Triviicants, once human, are now creatures of nightmares.
Their bodies bear the scars of radiation and inbreeding. Their
twisted forms a testament to centuries of degradation and madness.
The surrounding trampcans howl in response. One trivican rises a
makeshift staff adorned with bones and rusted trinkets, its voice
shrieking above the.
Speaker 12: Others, bird to the unworthy. The dawn will not save them.
Speaker 2: The surrounding trivicans howl in response. Their movements become frenzied.
They call at the earth buyers, erupt from makeshift altars.
The flame is casting eerie shadows across the remnants of Dollywood.
They're performing a ritual, trying to summon.
Speaker 10: Something, or calling for reinforcements. Either way, it's not good.
Whatever happens, we stick together.
Speaker 2: Do you hear me?
Speaker 10: I hear you always.
Speaker 2: The beacon's warning is clear. The dawn is still hours away,
but the Trimpicans are restless. Suddenly, one of the tripicants,
larger and more grotesque than the others, lumbers towards the bus.
It's mistmatch eyes gleam with malice. As it drags a
twisted weapon, a jagged blade fused with metal scrapes the
tripicans heavy footsteps, growing louder as it approaches.
Speaker 10: It's coming this way. We need to do something.
Speaker 2: Inside the bus. The tension is unbearable. Outside, the nightmare intensifies. No,
we hold our ground. If we move now, the rest
will swarm. The Trivikens are not just hunters. They are
zealots driven by faith and madness. Their grotesque forms a
reflection of the horror they embody.
Speaker 1: Well that's it, folks. Episode three gave us everything. Meriti
got her world rocked with some intense family history. Shira
brought the drama and stole the show literally, She took
part of the add ox, and the Trimpikens proved they're
just as terrifying as they sound. And Rylex in Salmont, Oh,
come on you two, all that tension, all those heartfelt
moments and not even a kiss. I mean, really, who
has time for emotional restraint when you're surrounded by glowing
eyed zealots. Anyway, I guess we'll just have to see
if they survive the night or if their feelings finally
catch fire. Stick around star Walkers because next episode promises
even more chaos, drama, and yes, more of the bromance
you're all secretly rooting for. Don't miss it, and remember
the Beacon always glows brighter when you're watching