Capsule 2.7 has Landed
Inside there is a postal device from Lumps World.
Thank you to all Lumps holders, past and present, who have helped us on this journey so far. The capsule arrived containing gifts for Lumps holders, find out more about the rewards below.
Available to all Genesis and Rapture Lump Holders
15 Allowlist Spots ON GolemZGuard Vanguard Mint
Our good friends over at GolemZGuard have kindly given the Lumps community 15 allowlist spots for their upcoming Vanguard mint.
1/1 Shiny Lump
A 1/1 animated NFT version of your Lump! Each winning Lump in the new ‘Shiny Lump’ series will be custom made by artist Sam Drew and hung in the new Lumps Emporium.
5 CUSTOM LUMP Prints
5 Lump holders have the chance to win a custom print of their Lump! Delivered worldwide with a certificate of authenticity.
The Lumps community recieves another diary entry from our mysterious narrator. Read the entry below!
GIVEAWAY NOW OPEN!
Lumps Holders, please head to the Lumps World Discord and enter by following the instructions on the ‘Capsule Giveaways’ channel.
NEXT CAPSULE LANDS…
Wednesday 4th May 2022
We have been receiving interdimensional parcels with gifts and stories to help us understand more about the Lumps World metaverse.
Diary Entry 2.7
‘Come out with your hands up. We’ve got you surrounded.’
Sheesh. You can say that again.
Legions of Mohawks and dozens of skilled warrior Lumps from the Voodoo and Quantum realms beat at the fortress door.
‘Hold the line! Slime Boy will be here any minute to save us!’
It’s Slippy talking.
‘Well he better hurry the hell up! I can’t hold them much longer!’ Screams Buddy Jolly. He’s firing a forcefield at the door out of a jacked-up Silver-Screen era film projector. Right now that’s the only thing keeping that murderous mob out of here.
Sunkissed-Stu roars. What an ogre. At least the first dozen through the door are getting swept aside by his hair goliath arms. But they’ll keep coming. We’d need 10 Stu’s to deal with that mob. Not to mention the machinery #7 has at his disposal. If Slime Boy doesn’t arrive in the next few seconds, it’s Thank You and Good Night Lumps World. We’re toast.
‘Where in Slime Ear’s name is he!?!?’ Screams Deb, as dust falls from our crumbling citadel.
‘He’ll be here!’ Slippy responds, sharply.
But, not a second later, CRACK. The door is broken. The forcefield shatters and Buddy’s projector powers off.
It’s too late. They are in. And there’s only one thing we can do – fight. I try to catch Slippy’s eyes, but they are shut. Quick as a flash, Litter Boy slips between three or four mohawks, lightning fast, and ties them up with bin bag string. Good old Nick. Never shies away from a ruck. Illusion Isabelle ain’t so lucky though and, boom, I see her struck off her unicycle and swarmed by warriors. If it wasn’t for Stu’s horrendous breath knocking them back 5 or 6 paces, they’d have had her for sure.
They’re coming at me too. I clench my fists.
Slippy told me a true warrior fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.
In the stillness of battle, you sometimes think of these things. But it’s not long before you must get back to business.
I remember The Lumps World I once knew. And the Lump that led me to all this. I don’t know if they’re behind me any more or not. But I do love them both.
I breathe in and think of my training.
A leaping warrior Lump pulls back his staff to strike me – this is it. Before he can though, he disintegrates. Ripped apart by light. First one point. Then multiple beams. Is this Slippy’s power? The Slug is levitating to my left, eyes closed, humming quietly to himself.
The flash of light ends abruptly and the warrior is gone.
For a moment there is silence. We’re all expecting Slime Boy to appear any minute, but, instead, a tired old backpack drops from the sky and hucks against the ground. Plod. Slippy floats down next to me amidst the chaos of battle. Connected to the backpack is a thin clear tube which is attached to a small pistol.
‘Put it on.’ Says Slippy.
‘Put it on.’
As I reach down to touch the hallowed backpack, a silence seems to fall around the citadel.
The clicking heels of #7’s steel capped boots prick the air. He’s flanked by B.B. on one side, floating like a ghostly king, two or three feet off the ground, and, to the other side, a horse drawn carriage trundles across the bumpy stone floor, with another familiar face at the helm. Shelby. The disappearing kid who’d led me out into the bloody carnage of #7’s estate all that time ago.
What a reunion.
Without thinking I rise from the ground, levitating. I notice Slippy floating to my left.
“A reunion indeed,” #7 whispers.
I place the backpack on and grip the gun.
“And you, the guest of honour…
Buddy Jolly slowly releases a mohawk from a headlock, Sunkissed Stu spits out a Warrior Lump he’d been chewing up.
Litter Boy falls to his knees.
“He’s really here.” Delivery Deb manages to mutter.
I observe the citadel. There’s tears in my eyes but I can’t let them see it. Enemies and friends are staring up at me in unison. In disbelief. Like they are seeing a ghost.
In many ways, they are.
For the first time since the baptism of Slime, I catch sight of my reflection in the stained glass windows of the citadel ruins. The Slime has scorched my hair green, including my eyebrows; my eyes are covered with protective pink and red glass, which spins like a Catherine Wheel in slow motion; my reconstructed hands sit inside thick yellow gloves.
There’s no denying it, I look like Slime Boy.
I am Slime Boy.