Your moirail is something of a shambling disaster -- his hair is a tangled, frizzy mess, his clothes are tattered at the hems and grimy, and he could stand a wash or five himself. But it isn't, you've realized, that Gamzee doesn't want to care for himself, it's more that he doesn't know how to take care of himself well. You're not sure why, since he had access to the same schoolfeeding as everyone else, but maybe it was because he was alone too much for so long. Maybe it's hard to care, or know to care, when there's no one to fuss over you.

The halls of the Gods are empty, echoing with unheard prayers. The forces of corruption and decay are growing in power. Soon they shall sweep across the world like an unholy plague. From the deep caverns beneath the majestic Dragonshard Mountains, across the mighty Greenweald Forest, to the fair city of Porthaven on the storm-wracked coast, there are fourteen people with the mark of a divine ruler on their skin. They do not know it, but they and only they can save the world from apocalypse and ruin. So naturally, they're going to spend as long as possible arsing about slaying monsters and looting ancient temples. 'Cos, you know, adventurers.

More than two sweeps after being returned to a restored Alternia, the trolls face impending adulthood and banishment from the planet. Gamzee Makara fully expects to be culled on conscription for poor health and sopor addiction - what he doesn't count on is the personal attention and protection of the Grand Highblood.

"And then I saw a new Alternia, for the old Alternia had passed away." -- St. Troll John Cusack How the Empire knelt to a clown, a mutant and a lawyer.