A figure watched Python lead Taurtis off, rabbit ears twitching. Good. Now that that part of the plan was working, he'd thought of every eventuality. He chuckled to himself, a mad grin appearing on his face as he spoke to nobody in particular.

"I'm coming for you, mister Gree-on. Ready or not."

What it is, is that that cat had had a hat with a bat for Matt on the mat; that is what it is.
Have a meanwhile.

"TAURTIS!"

Grian ran down the beach, waving. Python pulled in beside the island, and the two old friends ran to each other. They pulled each other into a tight hug, muttering various things along the lines of how much they'd missed each other.

"How's the Empire?" Taurtis asked, at the exact same time as Grian inquired:

"How's the Republic?"

Grian laughed, and Taurtis put up his old fake smile. Grian saw this, and whispered something in Taurtis' ear, which made him visibly relax, his face falling into a more neutral one. They sat down on the sand, and Python joined them.

"So you two are old friends?" The latter asked, curious. Grian and Taurtis nodded in reply, before Taurtis asked something that he was curious about.

"Where exactly is this?"

"Hermitcraft. Or what's left of it." Python replied, as he thought about the various losses, destruction, pain and injuries that the server had suffered in the last three months alone.

Taurtis nodded, deciding to not pry further. They sat there for a moment, before Grian noticed something.

"Hey Taurtis," he asked, "Why are your headphones around your neck? Did you get used to negative emotions or...?" Taurtis suddenly looked incredibly guilty. He thought for a moment or so about what to say, before deciding to simply nod his head slightly.

Back to Sam of the gladiatorial variety...

There was the crunch of footsteps on grass. Sam snapped his head around, looking the person who had disturbed him dead in the eyes. He turned his body to follow his head, slowly standing up.

"Well well, a fellow mutant and positive empath!" He said offering his hand with far too much flair.

Jevin took it, shaking it slightly, before asking what Sam was doing here. But no matter how hard Jevin pressed, the straightest answer he got was 'bent yardstick'. But, eventually, Sam also grew tired of this game. Hence why the very last answer Jevin received was a slice at his arm with a knife, causing blue slime to drip out.

Jevin stepped back, letting off a blast of emotion towards Sam. Sam shrugged it off like it was nothing, and advanced towards Jevin. Jevin realised that he'd have to try different tactics, and released an intense blast of excitement. Then he lay back, exhausted, hoping against all hope that Cub had gotten his message.

Sam stood over Jevin, there was a sharp, painful blow to the latter's head, and he went out like a light. Sam wiped the slime off his knife, tasting a bit. He shuddered: it didn't have the nice metallic taste of blood. Too acidic. He picked up Jevin's limp body, and dragged him somewhere. Where? Who knows.

Oh no! Jevin! Whatever shall be done?
He'll be fine, I'm sure.
OdalRune, signing off from the past!