Basketball the Olimpt

63 of 569
Basketball
100% Happy
Owner
boop
Stolen
9 Apr 2023
Hatched
1 Nov 2023
2,632 +1
Views
646 +1
Clicks
540
Feeds
1
Item Collected
Recent Feeders
silvia
bgamer
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VEND
Quest Creature
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♥ вαѕкєтвαℓℓ ♥
ᴠᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ, ᴏʙᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ
ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ sᴛᴏᴄᴋ!
ᴍᴏsᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ.

ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ғʀᴏᴏᴛ's ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.
ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀᴅᴇ.
*ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ 100 ᴍᴀᴄʙᴏᴛs.
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sᴄʀᴏʟʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ғᴏʀ ᴀ sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴍᴀɴᴊᴜʟ
ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ's ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ
sɪᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʜɪs ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇs 🥰🥰🥰


▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɢɢᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪsᴄᴏʀᴅ sᴇʀᴠᴇʀ:

froot — 13/04/2023 21:13
if i could do anything to manjul i would smack him
homie has the GALL to ask for expensive a$$ travels
mastergemma — 13/04/2023 21:13
I would just threaten him for tokens 😇
froot — 13/04/2023 21:13
wait that's smarter
wait theoretically wouldn't the best solution be to bribe him so he wants to give you more
mastergemma — 13/04/2023 21:14
Will any of the quest givers actually survive if I get my cove to sick them?

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ sɪᴄᴋ 'ᴇᴍ. ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂


“Manjul.”

The Mirkang’s eyes were glazed over with stubborn focus, glued to the world map clutched in his hands.

“Manjul.”

Huffing, the figure at the doorframe took a step closer, the glaring Leila sun casting a shadow over the dusty wooden floor. If one were to listen closely, they’d be able to hear the skittering of Barthugs beneath the floorboards, shying away from the scalding heat of the desert’s rays.

Not the slightest bit fazed, Manjul grunted, making a point of refusing to look up from his map, not even as the intimidating furry mound stalked its way towards his desk. He would not have looked up if it weren’t for the map being slapped out of his hands.

The travelholic shifted his gaze upwards, trying not to squint. Who was this? The harsh sun left a blinding rim of light around the figure, and it was at times like these that he wished he had glasses like Arkimedes.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the door shut, not without sending a heap of sand over the splintered threshold. The room was, once again, cast in darkness. But unlike the usual blanket of comfort that tended to settle over him with the door closed, even the furred winter beast could feel his skin prickle from the figure’s icy gaze.

He could see them a bit more clearly now, with the dim candlelight at the front of his desk. They
were wearing a fur coat - what was it, mink? - far too large for their size. That was an understatement - their coat seemed to smother them, swallowing them whole. The overlapping strips of fur seemed to twist and twitch under the flickering candlelight, but perhaps that was a figment of his imagination, attributed to the effects of insufficient illumination and his deteriorating eyesight.

The sound of creaking wood was amplified by the sheer silence that enveloped them as the traveller leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. His chest rumbled as he heaved a sigh, and spoke.

“What’s up?”

Manjul could see a pair of sharp eyes light up amongst the squirming masses of fur. They blazed with a searing ferocity, and the Mirkang wondered what he could possibly have done to be deserving of such concentrated hostility.

A slender hand emerged from the depths, reaching over the desk to poke the beast in the chest, the unexpected force behind such a tiny finger leaving a small indent in his tropical shirt.

“You - promised - me -” The pokes to his chest grew in strength with every accentuated word, sibilant and venomous.

“A.” Poke. “Fair.” Poke. “Trade.” Poke.

There was a lilt to the young voice, which Manjul would otherwise have found endearing, if it weren’t for the predicament he was in.

He blinked.

“I did not scam you,” he started slowly. “It was a fair trade.” The beast drawled, allowing some sourness to seep into his tone. He inched backwards to swing and cross his feet atop the desk, setting some distance.

“Two travels for another, and a token. It was agreed upon.”

The small hand shrunk back into the darkness, but the narrowed eyes bore into his own with such a fiery defiance, even the 2.4-metre-tall beast found it difficult not to waver under the steely gaze. The unyielding eyes remained trained onto his for an intense minute, gleaming with warning. It took every inch of his willpower not to look away.

A high-pitched shriek split the air, the sudden outburst causing Manjul’s hands to fly over his sensitive ears.

“The travels were meant to be obtainable!” The screech shifted into a growl.

“Riddle me this.” The eyes burned. “How,” the head tilted. “Am I meant to fetch you a travel if it doesn’t exist?”

The voice went breathy with exasperation.

“I’ve searched everywhere. I even went to the Leila Market. The Leila Market. No one’s heard of it. What you’re looking for,” The figure shook their head, sending the furry shapes writhing.

“It doesn’t exist.”

Manjul snorted, the puff expelled from his nostrils causing the suspended dust to curve in the air, and pulled a fresh newspaper out from the waste basket. He flipped through the flimsy sheets, stopping on a page filled with photos boasting all the unseen places of Ark.

Very well knowing how much it was listed for, he tapped his finger on a certain photo, raising an eyebrow patronisingly, as if to say, The listing’s right here, didn’t you look?

This sent the figure into an unmatched fury. The serpentine creatures wriggled apart with a new intensity, unfurling like a rotten flower, the distorted vines of a Garguaith, spreading out like a twisted fan around the head. Manjul sucked in a breath.

He could see her clearly now. She was only a small village girl when he’d first encountered her, but it was clear now that she had experienced her fair share of Leila, sharpened by the dangers of the dark. The aura she exuded was powerful, suffocating even, with venom rolling off of her in waves. The dawning realisation was like a slow, painful blow to his chest. Those were Farlots, clearly mutated - membranous, jagged wings and broken patches of slick, greasy fur in the place of their normal pink, glittery wings and shiny coats.

“Hand over the tokens.”

The voice that spoke was unrecognisable. Gravelly, hoarse and grating.

The beast had never felt such raw fear in his life. But he couldn’t, his travels hinged on this very business, this establishment that he’d built from the ground up, he’d have his licence stripped! He couldn’t. He would guard his tokens with his life.

The orbs glinted.

“Well then.” The voice shifted into one of sing-song, dripping with poisoned honey, sickly sweet.

Manjul could see a delicate finger being raised in command, and all at once, a million beady eyes came to life, fixing onto him. They glowed.

“I guess I’ll just have to take them from you.”

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・ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ・ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛs・ᴡɪsʜʟɪsᴛ・ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs・
・ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀɪᴇs・sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs・ᴛs ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛs・ᴏʟᴅ ᴘʀᴏғɪʟᴇ

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About Olimpt Eggs

This egg was only given out for the Creature Release Week in April 2010.

About the Olimpt Creature

Olimpt are a very friendly species of cat. They roam the jungles of Ark and, naturally, enjoy catching jungle mice. As Olimpt evolve, they become more fierce. But they are always kind and gentle toward their owners.

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