Route ??

The bus hasn’t come yet, and it’s been [[ages->ages]]

A sweet little number named Lucky 32. Blackwalled tires, Illustrations of marine life, and a generally postive disposition. 32 likes everything you like. Its ideal day is driving its route with a 2 minute margin of error. Just enough time to keep them wanting, but not waiting. (if:$time is 30)[It has been 30 minutes you should check if your bus has [[arrived->arrived]]](if:$time is 40)[it has been 40 minutes you are certain a bus has [[arrived->arrived]]]

An articulated or "bendy" bus is a bus that has a rotor that moves a stator plate that causes the bus to bend. Interestingly enough the engine is still situated in the back of the bus and and sometimes uses a front wheel drive which means the drive axle must also bend. Articulated Buses are quite imposing and are known to frequently predate on smaller and weaker buses to add to their length. While predators by nature Articulated Buses still practice the tenants of [[Noblesse Oblige ->Noblesse Oblige]] while traversing route to route. When attacking an articulated bus it is often inadvisable to attack from the rear lest it pinch you between the back of the two buses or kick out wildly with its hind body.

The bus has not yet arrived. You know with some degree of certainty that it is coming. Its nature is such that it will arrive. You can check the arrival schedule, but that will not shift reality into it being there. It is late. You've been waiting for at least $time minutes. [[Your Bus->Your Bus]] should show up in regular 20 minute intervals. Sometimes an [[Articulated Bus->Articulated Bus]] will show up as a special treat to pick up two routes worth of passengers. Alas... You are [[destined -> destined]] to get the on the bus. It is impossible to know when the bus will get here without a communing with a greater power. Alas... The bus hasn’t come yet, and it’s been [[ages->ages 3]]

Ages yes, a measurement of time immemorial. Its creation is often attributed Th'thandres Mel'thandier'yl in the Age of Elves. However this is [[elven propoganda.->elven propoganda]]

Ages are mistakenly believed to be smithed upon The First Anvil, Aryl'equides in the time before ages by Th'thandres Mel'thandier'yl. This is pattently false and modern historians attribute the creation to primative dwarven cultures using a lit waxen rod not for illumination but for the documentation of time in subterrainian cities. While sometimes natural gases could effect the burn length of this Menir, this was the first creation of a time keeping device. This is especially important because subterranian cities have no ready access to the passing of the sun and rising of the tides. The creation of this instrument was thought to be made to better keep track of scheduled breaks by dwarven labor unions. You nod to yourself knowing that while [[High Elves->High Elves]] might have functionally infinite time, they had not dained to measure its passing. With the satisfaction of completing this train of thought to its logical conclusion you check to see if [[Your Bus->Your Bus]] has arrived. (set: $time to 40)

Not to be confused with the much chiller dank elves. High Elves live above earthly concerns of their plains dwelling and subterranian cousins. While not a seperate race of Elves, High Elves pledge themselves to certain tenents of living and in doing so trade their mortality for immortality and in so doing become immune to the end of most mortal creatures such as death, disease, and taxes. [[Bus?->arrived]] (set: $time to 50)

(set: $time to 30 ) You've been waiting for at least (print:$time) minutes. [[Your Bus->Your Bus]] should show up in regular 20 minute intervals. Sometimes an [[Articulated Bus->Articulated Bus]] will show up as a special treat to pick up two routes worth of passengers. Alas... the bus hasn't come yet, and it's been [[ages.->agesContinued]]

You cast your gaze up to the bus stop (if:$time is 30) [You cast your eyes on a sleek looking bus, its signage declares it to be a bus that is taking passengers but no number is present. You ask the driver if this is the bus you are looking for and nods his head. Quickly waving you inside. Your bus has [[arrived->Wrong]]](if:$time is 40)[A long furry bus rolls into station, This assuredly is not your bus but it is here. Waiting for another bus is certainly possible but in this case it has been $time minutes and you are starting to become cold. 32 would understand that you need to find your way home and this bus has [[arrived.->bussalo]]](if:$time is 50)[A somewhat normal bus rolls into station. while not depicting marine life on the side of its noble chassis it pictures land dwelling mamallian life. Most curiously of all it is operated and driven by a crab. Lidless unblinking eyes stare at you as if to say. "Good day sir, are you going to board, or are you waiting for the next bus?" While this might not be Lucky 32 you've heard that the crabline circles close enough to your domicile that it is a good enough alternative. 32 would understand that sometimes you can't wait and this bus has just [[arrived->crab bus]]]

Noblesse Oblige is a core philosophy of a ruling class to be generous and noble towards those less priveleged. While seemingly a good thing this has a curious effect of reinforcing a power divide and social hierarchy between larger and smaller buses. I should probably check to see if my bus has [[arrived->arrived]]

Yes, destined. Your actions are not your own. You are a sum of a chain of deciscions made long before your first reptillian thought emerged from the mired conciousness of your primordial brain. I [[won't ->won't]]get on the bus. Is the [[bus ->arrived]] here yet? (set:$time to 40)

You've arrived here to get on the bus. I cannot force you to get on the bus, but I know two things are true. The bus will come, and you will board the bus. Everything else is irrelevant. I make my own [[fate-> fate]] I will board the bus, not because you told me I have no other option but because I have excercised [[free will->arrived]] to do so.

Please listen to me okay? I came at you a little harsh, but the truth is you have to get on the bus. You need to be on the bus. [[Bad things -> Bad things]] will happen if you don't get on the bus.

The bus needs a rider. You are the Rider. I can say no more. [[I won't. ->defiance]] I am excercising my free will to ride the [[bus. ->arrived]] (set:$time to 50)

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. [[Uhh...->crazy1]]

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. [[Hey...are you okay? -> crazy2]]

The wheels on the bus go R o U N d and round, round and round, round and round. [[I'd like off this wild ride Mr.Toad. ->crazy3]]

The wheels on the bus go go R o U N d and go R o U N d, go R o U N d and go R o U N d, go R o U N d and go R o U N d. You feel it now, beneath you. The wheel of the world turning. You are unsure at first but gradually you feel the shifting of great gears larger then mountains. Your soul wrenches and cracks beneath your skin as you know in your heart you are on the bus. Destiny is neither the child nor the woman who birthed her. You are the Rider and the returned to the great wheel. The ground opens up beneath you and swallows you whole. Your route was always here, It will wait no longer for you to board it. The End.

This is definitely a bus. The question is whether it is your bus. While it contains everything a bus contains it is definitely most certainly not your bus. You sit wearily in a seat mostly familiar to you and ride. The bus cranks into motion disengaging the parking brake and shifting into drive. Did it always sound like that? This seems like the correct route. [[Is it turning. Are you turning? -> turning]]

You approach the bus, but soon come to realize this isn't a normal bus but infact a primative bussalo. The tribe will not have to go without warmth this winter. You clutch your car-a-bo hides and signal to the other riders to encircle the grazing bussalo. While you cannot hope to match its speed or power it has but one mind and the overwhelming numbers of the encircled hunters and their make shift spears will surely fell this beast. A snap of twig alerts the bussalo of danger and it flies towards the [[woodline. ->woodline]]

This will be an excellent chance to practice your crabonese you respond forming a claw with your fingers and gesticulating wildly as to say "Yes! Please! I LOVE BUS! Crab?" There is a long thoughtful expression before the crabline bus driver waves you aboard. You are unsure of your intonation as you do not possess a seperated plate lined forward mandible. You board the bus to find many similiarly crustacean occupants. [[They thought I would wash out of seaborn dialects major who's laughing now?->crabline2]]

Remembering your first lectures on seaborn societal customs you gesticulate wildly with your makeshift claw as to say: "Hello! I am not Seaborn, Accept! Fun Swim! Crab live where?" No one turned to look at your garbled show of greetings. The ones who did stared at you thoughtfully before returning to their own bus based activities. You take a seat close to the bus driver. and... [[I need to connect with these people. I may not be crab on the outside but its what's on the inside that counts. Crab? ->crabcornered]] [[Maybe I'll just wait for my stop.->crabexpress1]]

The bus hums to life as the chittering and clacking of your fellow occupants sing throughout the air, its less then a melody but listening closely you can follow along to some conversations. You hear of a trying incident where a mothers youngest started their first molt and dealing with the strange topic of leaving behind something you've lived with your whole life and to be weary of even their own parents as until their new carapace had hardened they would be easy prey for most predatory species. You hear a couple clacking the melody to Crustacious B.I.G.'s Gimme the Meat. You take in all this vast culture and turn to the pull your stop and step off the bus dispensign a simple "I Thank! Crab?" before returning home. The End.

While the parking break disengages and gears shift to drive you watch closely at the bus drivers express which seems to say something along the lines of "Are you cold? The bus schedule has been a little strange since the bus union workers strike." A thought shoots through you like a bolt of lightning as your eyes slowly widen with the realization that this is not a normal crabline bus driver, but a scab crabline bus driver. [["Strike you know? Why? Crab?"->crabpositive]] [["You Strike? Now? Crab?" -> Psychic Lance]] [[A long thoughtful expression->crabpositive]]

The crab clacks a response between turns as to say : "All crabs believe in collective bargaining, but we also believe in opportunism. The claw that snaps first gets the meat." You think on that. If this crab had not scabbed for this bus the tenious public transportation system would be at risk. In filling this position he has ensured that the crab unions effective strike will be surely lessened. However, without this crabs service you would still be stranded without transportation and would surely succomb to the elements. [[While not ideal you recognize the need to find work and gainful employment this crab might not be considered a hero but he is exactly what you need him to be in this moment.->crabexpress1]] [[Rude Gesture-> Psychic Lance]]

A stunning sensation lashes out from the center of the crabs being. Like a cord tethered rapidly and then snapped you feel your conciousness drift away from your body and become disjointed with this plane of reality. You are sundered and swim through the vast plains of unreality. Your primordial reptillian senses compose themselves to focus on a place in the distance. Large outstretched claws the length of galaxies outstretch from a screaming ball of conciousness the scale of which is impossible to determine. It is everywhere and nowhere. Now and tommorow. It has always been and will neverbe. You stare unto the face of God. "Crab?" The end.

Emerging from the darkness two torch wielding riders mimic the headlights of a predatory articulated bus. The hunters encircle the bus prying open the doors and sitting upon the drivers seat. The beast is felled. You will make it and carry this honor home to your tribe. The dead is done and you have hunted the bussalo. The End.

The axis of the world shifts as you feel a unity of motion. The bus has not turned. The world has turned in response to the drivers deft motions. [[Is this how it always was? -> yes]]

Yes. The bus is a device of a unimaginable power created by things beyond comprehension. A mortal mind trembles at the turning of the wheel. This is not the wheel, but sits upon its axis. You struggle to remain composed as your form crumbles one turn after the other. Your last thoughts are of gentle 32. The End.