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>Kyon: Be past Haruhi.

These imps are quite possibly the coolest things you have ever encountered!

They all have these big, cute eyes, plus they're all dressed in maid outfits for some reason! You think they're just about the most adorable things in the world.

That said, they also have this habit of trying to kill you. You've ended up having to partake in fisticuffs with them, wielding your good old BOXING GLOVES you happened to have lying around. Now your strife specibus is set to GLOVEKIND, although you're not really sure what other kinds of gloves you could possibly fight with.

Fortunately, it's easy enough to dispatch these imps. Even if they do constantly manage to somehow put girly bows in your hair just by hitting you, it's not exactly a useful ability in battle. You've been punching the snot out of these silly little frolickers for a good hour or so, and it never stops being fun.

>Kyon: Stop being Haruhi and be you.

These imps are quite possibly the most annoying things you have ever encountered.

It's bad enough that they constantly manage to put girly bows in your hair just by hitting you, but they also can make themselves spontaneously glow excruciatingly bright, as though a switch had been flipped. It made them kind of a pain in the ass to get rid of. However, after you alchemized yourself some SUNGLASSES, it became a bit easier, and with your ALUMINUM BAT, you've been making short work of them.

But you still have far too many stories to go before you reach your first gate, and whacking the hell out of these little bastards is only fun for so long. Damn you, Haruhi! How the hell did you get to your first gate so fast?!

>Kyon: Be Mikuru.

You cannot be Mikuru right now! She's SLEEPING!

>Kyon: Be future Mikuru.

You cannot be future Mikuru! The future has NOT YET HAPPENED (from YOUR PERSPECTIVE)!

>Kyon: Be past Mikuru?

You cannot be past Mikuru! The author is too busy with his CAGEY BULLSHIT for that!

>Kyon: Oh, Christ, fine then! Be present Haruhi.

Well, since you asked nicely...


You find yourself on an ISLAND SHORE, the eponymous SEASHELLS littering the ground. The breeze carries the fishy, tangy scent of the ocean to your nose. The humidity in the air causes you to sweat a little. The sun is rising, painting the sky in hues of orange and red.

To your EAST, you see nothing but the vast expanse of blue water, and to your WEST, you see crumbling, vast RUINS, no doubt left behind by some native civilization of island dwellers. They're long-forgotten now, with nothing but those ruins indicating they ever existed. Only the constant and soothing sound of WAVES breaking on the shoreline remains.


God, THIS IS BORING. Is this what your land is going to be like ALL THE TIME?