I recently started a project creating an up sized BattleTech mini. The base is a little over 8" across. My general goal for the base is pavement being broken by the feet of the mech, which I would normally accomplish black crackle paint, but I don't think that's going to cut it here.
So what are my options? Is there a better option for creating the texture at a larger scale than modeling clay and a lot of patience?
Also, if there's a better sub for questions about larger models I'm happy to be pointed elsewhere.

I pondered for a while about writing this. I have absolutely nobody I can share it with, so I come to strangers.
June (38F) and I (39F) are cousins and best friends. We grew up together and we were the sister that neither of us had. We have loved each other, been there for each other through thick and thin, and have had the best of times together. But, like every close bond, ours has had challenges, and right now things are pretty awful.
Some backstory: June got married very young, and for personal reasons she and her husband decided to adopt. Their child is now grown and independent, and she has her freedom and time to rediscover herself and her interests. I, on the other hand, am a mom of a toddler and my life is pretty messy at this point. I did feel our relationship get a little strained since I became a mom. I believe it was because she kind of lost me for a bit, I became less available and wasn't able to talk a lot. I decided not to do anything about it at that time since I felt that my sensitivity (I did have a mild form of PPD, I later discovered) might be distorting my perception of things. But it felt like she avoided me when she indeed had the opportunity to see me, choosing to do other more fun things instead. Or she would make plans to see me and the baby but the venues and times were usually not appropriate for me and I would have to decline. I wasn't feeling good about any of this but I would rationalize - nobody needs to accommodate me and my specific situation, because they didn't choose to have a baby, I did.
Anyway, June and her husband drifted apart through the years. They do love and respect each other, they have a child and a business together, an overall good life, but the spark had gone. So it happened that June fell in love with someone else, and it turned out to be mutual. And they had an affair that lasted a while. I don't judge her about it, it's her thing, and her husband has probably done it too, this post isn't about that. The affair got toxic and she did try to break it off. It was on and off for a while and then something awful happened. Her lover (also married, a known member of our community) was involved in a horrific car accident. He first went into a coma and then passed away. For all I know, I was the only person that knew about the affair.
She was out of state when it happened. We weren't in a position to talk about this a lot. She was with her husband, and I was rarely alone. Most of the times we would text about it, I'd ask her if she wanted to talk about it, and she'd say no. Sometimes because she wasn't alone, and other times she said she didn't want to talk about it. And I chose not to pressure her, because how people react to grief is very specific and very different. I tried to tell her I am there for her whenever she wants to talk about it. Bear in mind that I live with a toddler and a husband who works from home, so I am rarely alone. I'd call her when I'd go grocery shopping, or tell her I'm going out and will be out for a while, giving her an opportunity to talk if she wants to. She very rarely did. And I know this because I went through our chat history, in order to check myself and how good of a friend I am.
The day of the funeral, I told her I'm there if she needs me. She lashed out at me, saying I am actually not there for her. I said I'm sorry that I can't be there, explained that it is difficult to be there in the way she'd need me since I also have to hide how much she needs me from everybody. And I also have a small child. It hurt me but I let it go. She was grieving and angry and had nobody to talk to. Things seemingly got better in the meantime. We had more opportunities to talk about how she is feeling. We also had daily communication like sharing funny memes and things that make us laugh. Not many opportunities to see each other. I work on different projects that take up a lot of my time. She is also very busy with her business and traveling, so there simply weren't many situations. And honestly, I stopped initiating meetings with her one on one since, as I said before, she would either have something else already planned, or would be away on a business trip, and I started feeling like me asking would always end with a refusal on her side.
We met recently at an event that we both enjoyed and had a great time, or so I thought. I texted her a couple of days later wanting to talk to her but I got a response that really hurt me, but also made me think if I am in the wrong. Not to go into detail, but she accused me of not being there for her grieving process. She said that having a child was not an excuse. She also implied that I was never fully there to help her get out of her toxic affair - I'd disagree but whatever. And in the end she added a couple of situations where I didn't react properly which to me were totally random. I decided not to get in a texting argument - again, I reminded her that to be fully there I also had to lie and make up situations. She said that I should have, and concluded her text with telling me that she doesn't want to talk to me. I told her we can talk when she feels like it, to which she replied that she will probably never want to talk to me again about serious matters. That we can keep our communication superficial like it lately is (which I would also say is a difference in perception) but that she is aware of it and that she is far from OK with it.
Since that last text I am in a grieving process of my own. I feel for her, I know her aggression is a substitute for sadness. I know it is unfair when we lose someone, and we need to have someone "to blame". But I also feel like I might have been treated unfairly. If she feels like she has lost me now, I feel like I have lost her a few years ago - when I had my issues with a small baby and undiagnosed PPD, and husband and in laws that I couldn't stand at the time. And I also feel stupid for never sharing that before with her. And I think sharing it now would just completely destroy our relationship, if there is a relationship still.
So, AITAH? And WIBTA if I told her how I feel?

I’m having a hard time finding a book that gets into the underlying science — why certain clays are better for certain types of projects, what’s the reason behind the varying firing temperatures, how kilns actually work and the difference between the types…etc etc etc. Every time I order a book it ends up being either focused on ideas for projects or on the aesthetic elements of ceramics. I’m looking for a deeper understanding of the chemistry. Any suggestions?

Hello! I wanted to make a series of small air dry clay pins, but I haven't been able to find that bendable aluminum google suggests to use to form my own cutter shape. Plus, I don't want to buy an entire roll of this stuff just for a single project. I also don't want to spend a lot of money on making a mold. I'm just wondering if anyone has any suggestions, or if I should just make a paper template, trace it, and cut them out by hand?

I am early 30’s in a fairly senior position overseeing systems engineering for a large DoD project.
Most of my “peers” are in their 50’s and 60’s. They are talking about their kids graduating college and high school while I have 2 toddlers at home.
How can I better fit in the office and the day to day conversation and rapport?

“I want to know your deepest fear. I want to know what floods your mind and causes your neural synapses to fire.”
A pop up advert for an official off earth resort fills the screen with a nauseating array of bright colours juxtaposed by a minimalist design style. The advert boasts of and promises a new life on the colony of Mars. An en-suite apartment that captures the earth in all its distant splendour. A sound plays and endless colourful dots fill the screen followed by a sanitised artificial voice : “ The Mars colony produced around 2 billion tonnes of waste last year.”
This electronic vision is interrupted by an enormous violent outburst. Glass shatters and pops, heavy cybernetic feet pound the floor followed by manic howling. “ Where is Che?!?! where is Che?!? I need Che!?”
One may have mistaken this commotion for a toddler in distress but this was no mere toddler. Indeed, the individual causing this commotion was a young man named Matthew Theron, yes of the Theron family. Somehow I knew this character and knew that his very presence had a serious gravitas.
In this dream I am accompanying Che, the advert for the new life on Mars is projected on a screen which we both grind our teeth at due to its slow speed of progression especially given the circumstances, we need a way out of this place and we needed it now.
Che features are indescribable, what I can confirm is that she is indeed a specimen worthy of the envy of men and woman alike. And I would liken this dream and its atmosphere to that of Helen of Troy who in her passions against her husbands, the rich and powerful Menelaus, brought ruin and tragedy to the city of Troy and those who lived behind its walls.
CRASH! This time a steel door is sent flying through the air followed by more howling
“Che! Che where are you!?! I need Che!”
I cast my eyes down the hall, glass lays strewn about all natural wooden floor and a small crowd begins to gather. My focus turns to Che and I whisper frantically, “We need to get out of here now.”
The sign up for this new life ends and we are greeted by a new announcement by the screen. “ your transport will arrive in 1 minute. Please make your way to the designated area.” Fortunately for us, said designated area was located atop what I can recall being a rather tall and imperious building, the exact building we were trapped in.
“We’ve gotta get outside, go now” I say, grabbing Che by her arm and shoving down the hallway towards the roof top exit. The sound of heavy feet fills the chaotic ambience behind us. Wham! Bam! Bam! Glancing over my shoulder I see Matthew , eyes aglow in manic fury, hair wild, the smashed glass crunching beneath his bare feet as he stalks his way closer.
“Che!” He howls.
“Che! I need you! I want to know your deepest fear! I want to know what floods your mind and causes your neural synapses to fire!”
He takes off running, I shove Che and move to intercept the cyborg. Despite his speed I manage to grab him by the scruff raise him into the air, slam him down and essentially fold him like a piece of paper all in a single motion. I turn and bolt to the door noticing that Che is holding it open for me. Just as I make it there, the cyborg reforms itself. Legs, neck and joints snap and twist back together like a corpse reanimated by a necromancer. At once his assault resumes. I slam the door, locking it but it is immediately blown off its hinges.
“The ship! The ship!” Yells Che.
We sprint, leap and jump into the ship which lifts off and clears the building just as the cyborg comes within reach, just in time its doors close and full throttle is engaged.
Last image I have is of that cyborg madly throwing himself off the buildings roof in rage induced attempt and clearing the distance between the abyss below and our Space Craft. Rage still burning in his eyes.
This commotion is interrupted by a screen similar to that observed earlier which thanks us for choosing this particular brand for our off world adventure and reassured us that we have made the correct decision. This is all followed by an infomercial showing what looked like a river flowing with millions of different pixels on a stark white background, with the announcement once again recalling the 2 billion tonnes of waste that was produced by the Mars colony of last year.

On August 18, 2015 the Boston Red Sox hired the late General Manager of the Detroit Tigers, Dave Dombrowski, to run the team, replacing Ben Cherrington. The development focused Cherrington had failed to follow up the Red Sox miracle 2013 season with even winning records in the two years since, though the farm system ranked among the very best in baseball and a wave of prospects had just hit the majors (among them, Xander Bogaerts, Jackie Bradley Jr., Mookie Betts, and Blake Swihart). Thus, the swapping of Cherington for Dombrowski was rightly interpreted as the Red Sox moving to a more assertive phase, to win now even at the expense of the player development system.
Ironically Dombrowski had been fired by the Tigers because of his belief that the organization’s competitive window had closed and that the team needed to rebuild; the Tigers gave the job to his former assistant who got one more winning season out of their aging core before the inevitabilities became insurmountable. By that time the Red Sox were in the midst of their second straight division crown of three, which climaxed with the single greatest season in franchise history. This is how Dombrowski built that team, as well as the fiscal panic that cost the Red Sox the greatest all around player in franchise history following it:
~2015~
November 13, 2015: Traded Logan Allen, Carlos Asuaje, Javy Guerra and Manuel Margot to the San Diego Padres. Received Craig Kimbrel.
The first major transaction of the Dave Dombrowski era set the pace for the next four years; trading four prospects for a relief pitcher constitutes the classic win-now move. In this case the Red Sox won the deal in both the long and short terms, as only Manuel Margot developed in regular at the major league level, and that at a position where the Red Sox were not in need (center field). Meanwhile Craig Kimbrel made the all-star team in each of his three seasons in Boston, the second of which was one of the greatest relief performances in the game’s history.
December 4, 2015: Signed David Price as a free agent, 217 million dollars over seven years.
At once the most maligned and most underrated move of the Dombrowski era as well as being the biggest, the David Price signing saw the Red Sox for the first time handout a nine figure contract to a free agent pitcher. This was all the more dramatic as they had alienated and traded away their own homegrown southpaw ace (Jon Lester) less than eighteen months before. This was also the first time with the Red Sox that Dave Dombrowski acquired a player he was he previously familiar with, perhaps slightly overpaying for that familiarity. Did we mention that this was largest contract ever given to a pitcher at time, too?
Price had a solid first season in Boston, leading the league in innings pitched with 230 and striking out nearly a man per inning. Nonetheless the first three years of his tenure were marked with mutual hostility towards the ever-ravenous Boston sports media, only alleviated after his fantastic 2018 postseason run. Aging and injuries limited both the quantity and quality of his performance in 2017 and 2019; this trend as well as his 31 million annum salary contributed to owner John Henry’s decision to offload Price even at the cost of Mookie Betts. If only for that last reason alone the David Price signing is one the Red Sox would likely not repeat in hindsight.
December 7, 2015: Traded Jonathan Aro and Wade Miley to the Seattle Mariners. Received Roenis Elías and Carson Smith.
The first of many times Dombrowski would be burned in pursuit of bullpen arms, this deal with Seattle comes down to Wade Miley for Carson Smith. Miley had been signed as a reclamation project by Cherrington before 2015 in the hopes that Miley could serve as a solid mid-rotation option, which he more or less fulfilled with just short of 200 league average innings. Smith on the other hand was coming off his first full season in the majors where he gave the Mariners seventy brilliant innings of high leverage relief pitching (2.31 ERA, 11.8 K/9, and only two home runs allowed).
In a twist of fate, this trade hurt both teams as Smith immediately got injured and only pitched 24 innings in the rest of his career while Miley bombed in Seattle en route to a midseason jettisoning. Yet he rebounded with Baltimore in 2017 and remains an effective if oft-injured starting pitcher to this day, currently with the Milwaukee Brewers.
~2016~
June 10, 2016: Drafted Bobby Dalbec in the 4th round of the 2016 amateur draft.
The once and future Red Sox, Quad A superstar Bobby Dalbec!
July 7, 2016: Traded Wendell Rijo and Aaron Wilkerson to the Milwaukee Brewers. Received Aaron Hill and cash.
With Pablo Sandoval well into his career of eating his way out of Boston, the Red Sox carried a gaping hole at third base from August 2012 to July 2017. One of the short term attempts at a fix featured the acquisition of infielder Aaron Hill, hoping that he and Travis Shaw could platoon for the rest of the 2016 season. The thirty four year old Hill had been decent in Milwaukee in the first half after two bad seasons, but he reverted to that form as soon as he put on a Red Sox uniform, posting a 54 OPS+ in 137 plate appearances. After another terrible eighty plate appearances for the Giants in 2017 Hill was done. On the bright side, the two players Dombrowski gave up for him never amounted to anything.
July 9, 2016: Traded Jose Almonte and Luis Alejandro Basabe to the Arizona Diamondbacks. Received Brad Ziegler.
Ziegler was an accomplished submarine righty who the Red Sox acquired for basically free to get same-sided batters out, a role which he fulfilled to perfection (1.52 ERA in 30 innings). Another clearly won trade for DD.
July 14, 2016: Traded Anderson Espinoza to the San Diego Padres. Received Drew Pomeranz.
At the time, Anderson Espinoza was a teenager in Single A while Drew Pomeranz had appeared to finally unlock his long-salivated over potential with an all-star appearance. Ideally the Padres were hoping Espinoza could eventually develop to that same quality while the Red Sox expected Pomeranz to fill the fourth spot in the rotation. Neither team got what they wanted, at least in 2016 or for most of thereafter; Espinoza immediately went down with a major arm injury which kept him from pitching professionally for five years. Pomeranz himself reverted to his pre-breakout level for the rest of the season, bounced back with a big 2017 (17-6, 3.32 ERA, a strikeout per inning across 174 frames) and then finally was the forgotten man on the 2018 pitching staff due to injuries and ineffectiveness (6.08 ERA in 74 innings, 66 strikeouts to 44 walks). At this point the thirty year old southpaw looked like the quintessential example of TNSTAAPP (There’s No Such Thing As A Pitching Prospect), another electric arm who would never match his potential due to injuries and command woes. Anyways, Pomeranz then seemed to resuscitate his career out of the bullpen for the 2019 Brewers and 2020-21 Padres with a sub-2 ERA across 70 innings in those three seasons…before injuries again struck. Though he has not pitched in the majors in three years he remains in the Dodgers minor league system, currently (where else) on the injured list.
December 6, 2016: Traded Victor Diaz, Luis Alexander Basabe, Michael Kopech and Yoán Moncada to the Chicago White Sox. Received Chris Sale.
It’s easy to forget now, but Moncada was not only a can’t miss prospect but one of the three best in all of baseball at the time, and Kopech was another Top 100 type. I’ve covered Kopech in my previous article on Red Sox pitching prospect busts but Moncada’s own failure to reach his ceiling was due more to injuries and a passive approach at the plate. Thus far into his career, Moncada has had two good seasons out of seven and played in at least 130 games in only three. With a strikeout rate of thirty percent, a declining walk rate, little power and less defense, he’s become a fourteen million dollar albatross even when on the field for the White Sox.
Sale, of course, had two Cy Young Award worthy campaigns before injuries and an ill-advised extension soured his final five seasons as a Red Sox. That extension will be discussed further when we come to it, but the trade on its own was inarguably a major victory.
Traded a player to be named later, Josh Pennington, Mauricio Dubón and Travis Shaw to the Milwaukee Brewers. Received Tyler Thornburg. The Boston Red Sox sent Yeison Coca (June 5, 2017) to the Milwaukee Brewers to complete the trade.
Yet another ill-fated trade for a relief pitcher, this time costing the Red Sox heavily in terms of value lost; Shaw went to become an all-star power bat at second and third base for the next two seasons in Milwaukee before his career petered out. Thornburg on the other hand contracted thoracic outlet syndrome from which he never recovered. Even if he had pitched well, the Red Sox could have used Shaw more than any setup man due to Dustin Pedroia’s career ending knee injury.
December 8, 2016: Signed Mitch Moreland as a free agent.
Mitch Moreland was a decent first baseman, but could Dave really not find someone better to play first over the next three years? Even if they cost more than $18.5 million?
December 20, 2016: Traded Clay Buchholz to the Philadelphia Phillies. Received Josh Tobias.
This was more of a psychic relief to Red Sox Nation than anything else, finally alleviating them of the constant confusion over which Bucholz would show up on the mound—the oft-injured and easy to hit version, or the dominating ace? Fittingly Clay’s last three seasons in the majors featured two horrid starts for Philly, sixteen dominating starts in Arizona, and then finally split the difference with a final dozen poor performances as a Blue Jay.
~2017~
June 12, 2017: Drafted Tanner Houck in the 1st round (24th pick) of the 2017 amateur draft.
Houck’s selection constitutes one-third of the total number of draft picks by Dombrowski that made which helped the Red Sox at the major league level (the other two being fourteenth round pick Kutter Crawford in 2016 and fellow first rounder Triston Casas in 2018); inability to find even depth pieces in the draft left the Red Sox farm system utterly void of impact talent by 2018.
June 23, 2017: Selected Doug Fister off waivers from the Los Angeles Angels.
As alluded to in my previous article, veteran GMs tend to reacquire players they were familiar with from previous stops. Fister had been an excellent fourth starter for the Tigers early in the 2010s but by 2017 the end was clearly staring him in the face; a 4.88 ERA in eighteen appearances (fifteen starts) just underlined this inevitable and unenviable conclusion.
July 26, 2017: Traded Shaun Anderson and Gregory Santos to the San Francisco Giants. Received Eduardo Núñez.
Nunez was the short-term solution to Pedroia’s knee injury. He turned out to be the medium-term solution too, as the degenerate condition of the incumbent’s affliction led DD to resign Nunez that winter. While fantastic down the stretch in 2017 this was a stretch of the infielder’s capabilities; Nunez suffered his own knee injuries and posted a remarkable -2.3 WAR as Boston’s primary keystone occupant over the 2018 and 2019 seasons.
July 31, 2017: Traded Gerson Bautista, Jamie Callahan and Stephen Nogosek to the New York Mets. Received Addison Reed.
Another deadline, another deal to reinforce the bullpen. Reed was inconsistent for the Red Sox during his two month stay, which turned out to be the penultimate chapter for his career—a poor 2018 in Minnesota marked the end of his major league career, an astonishingly quick demise even for a reliever.
~2018~
February 26, 2018: Signed J.D. Martinez as a free agent, five years and 110 million dollars.
The best free agent signing of the Dombrowski era, JD provided the power bat the Red Sox sorely lacked after Big Papi’s retirement. In his first and best season in Boston Martinez led the majors in both runs batted in and total bases, placed third in MVP voting, and earned Silver Sluggers at two different positions! He declined linearly from there, but remains a productive member of any team’s lineup to this day; he has spent the last two seasons as the Dodgers and now Mets’ DH, attempting to compensate for declining bat speed by sacrificing contact for power.
March 4, 2018: Signed Ryan Brasier as a free agent.
The quality of Brasier’s pitching is inversely proportional to the quality of the expectations laid upon him. Thus he alternates excellent if limited seasons with ostensibly healthier but more erratic contributions.
March 24, 2018: Traded Deven Marrero to the Arizona Diamondbacks. Received a player to be named later. The Arizona Diamondbacks sent Josh Taylor (May 15, 2018) to the Boston Red Sox to complete the trade.
Deven Marrero was the prototypical good-field/no-hit infielder. Taylor is yet another oft-injured reliever, though he at least gave the Red Sox two solid seasons as the primary southpaw in 2019 and 2021. After missing all of 2022, he was traded to the Royals for Adalberto Mondesi and a teenage infielder named Angel Pierre; while Mondesi knee injuries seem to have ended his career Pierre posted a .415 OBP in rookie ball last year. Keep an eye and ear out for him as he climbs through the minor league ranks.
June 4, 2018: Drafted Triston Casas in the 1st round (26th pick) of the 2018 amateur draft.
Get well soon. There’s only so much Bobby Dalbec a fan can take.
June 28, 2018: Traded Santiago Espinal to the Toronto Blue Jays. Received Steve Pearce and cash.
Moreland had never and would never hit southpaws, but it took until the middle of his second season in Boston for the Red Sox to provide him with a platoon partner. When they finally did so at least they chose one of the very best platoon players in the major leagues in Steve Pearce; Pearce of course would win the World Series MVP that should have gone to Price later that year.
July 25, 2018: Traded Jalen Beeks to the Tampa Bay Rays. Received Nathan Eovaldi.
Even had he not resigned with the team during the offseason, Eovaldi would have earned his place in Red Sox lore for his heroic six inning relief appearance in the World Series. We’ll discuss the extension later, but also note that Beeks is perhaps the only pitcher who the Rays failed to turn into a Cy Young contender. What’s the opposite of adding insult to injury?
July 30, 2018: Traded Ty Buttrey and Williams Jerez to the Los Angeles Angels. Received Ian Kinsler and cash.
With Nunez playing well below replacement level, the Red Sox needed a replacement for the replacement. Kinsler in his penultimate season at least provided a solid glove; just in case the Red Sox also picked up Brandon Phillips.
November 16, 2018: Signed Steve Pearce as a free agent. AND, December 6, 2018: Signed Nathan Eovaldi as a free agent.
These were covertly two of the worst transactions of the Dave Dombrowski era. Refusing to say goodbye to midseason rentals is risky enough, but the amount of money given to Pearce and Eovaldi also baffled reasonable explanations; a thirty-six-year-old platoon hitter at first base is replaceable enough, even when he’s not the weak side of the arrangement. Had Pearce played well and been healthy in 2019, perhaps the six and quarter million would have seemed mostly worth it; instead, he “hit” .180 in twenty nine games before retiring.
Meanwhile, Eovaldi’s lengthy injury history made it a minor miracle that he was healthy enough for the Red Sox during his three months in Boston—bringing him back for four years and sixty-eight million dollars can only be explained as a sentimental move, an excessive reward for that World Series performance. As could have been reasonably expected in December 2018, Nitro Nate only proved worthy of that contract in one out of four seasons; in the other three he was either injured for most of the season, ineffective, or both.
~2019~
March 23, 2019: Extended Chris Sale for five years, 145 million dollars.
It wasn’t the David Price contract that caused the fiscal panic that cost the Red Sox their best player since at least Carl Yastrzemski, not really. The Red Sox could have eaten that sunken cost, had it been the sole albatross on their pitching staff. But, of course, it was only one of three unnecessary contracts that Dave Dombrowski issued to injury-prone starting pitchers on the wrong side of thirty. Sale had already shown long term red flags in 2018, which argued for letting him play out his walk year in 2019 before possibly ponying up the cash to keep him. After all, the Red Sox also had to extend Xander Bogaerts as well as the inestimable Betts; those two would cost at least sixty million a year to retain. Since they were coming off the most dominant single season in franchise history, perhaps now was the best time to let go some of the chief contributors, before the Red Sox tricked themselves into trying to recapture lightning in a bottle…Well, you know what happened in reality.
Between them, Eovaldi, Sale, and Price cost the Red Sox $52 million in 2019 alone, then $67 million in 2020; accounting for other contracts (JBJ’s arbitration rang up $11 million, Bogey was extended for $20 million, and JD was on the books for about $24 million) that was at least $122 million dollars already assigned to six players entering 2020. Assuming a payroll of effectively $200 million, this would have left about thirty million to spend on the other twenty-odd players required to field a team after giving Mookie his presumed megadeal. Turning back to 2019, just like with the Tigers in 2015, Dave couldn’t even make his customary July trade for pitching; the acquisition of Andrew Cashner from the Orioles felt like a low-budget parody of his previous deadline splashes, which of course it was.
There’s the real reason Dave Dombrowski was fired—just as in Detroit his full throttle commitment to a win-now mandate from ownership eventually led to a top-heavy roster and barren farm system. Have fun while you can, Phillies Phans.
Final Note/Small Self Promotion I forget to add: You could have read this post ten days earlier if you follow my blog

OD6 Metals achieves up to 90% REE recovery in Western Australia, providing a competitive advantage in the rare earth elements market.
The progress at OD6 Metals' Splinter Rock Rare Earth Elements Project is significant for the rare earth industry. Achieving up to 90% recovery of magnet REEs highlights the economic potential of the project and positions it as a leading clay-hosted rare earth deposit in Australia. This news underscores the growing importance of rare earth elements and the potential for sustainable and strategic mineral resource development.
Read More https://newsramp.com/curated-news/od6-metals-achieves-up-to-90-ree-recovery-in-wa/c9c56e13339aefd46f6e2047b544d0ff

I have an antenna tower that I would like to make free standing, like this. The tower is going to hold my Starlink dish which needs a clear view of the sky, which is the reason for the odd location, it is the only reasonable spot in my yard where the cord will reach with the least amount of trees cut down.
My question is how much concrete (or how deep and wide) would I need to dig and fill to make this tower free standing. I would like to dig the hole, however deep and wide, put drainage gravel in the bottom, and encapsulate a section of the tower in concrete. Preferably, I would rather rather not use guy wires due to proximity of underground utilities although I will if I have to. My other problem is I cannot refer to any manufacture specs on the tower because I got the tower used (a new tower costs around $1,000).
The tower sections are two 10 foot sections and one 7 foot section (which will be placed in the concrete). The sections weigh 35 pounds. The vertical and horizontal pipe is 1 1/4th inch with a thickness of 5/64th inches. I do not have any soil tests, but I would imagine there is 1 to 2 feet of soil followed by clay (my frost depth is 24" if that helps). I have already spoken to my local government and I was told I would not need any permits as long as the project is under $500, which of course it will be ;)
I will answer questions to the best of my ability and thank you for your help!

This came out of a wikipedia Rabbit hole expedition while the toddler was watching Ms. Rachel.
Ms. Rachel was a preschool teacher in New York and has masters degrees in musical education and early childhood education. Her husband is Aron Acurso, a Broadway musical director and performer (Up here, Aladdin, Sister Act, the Little Mermaid, Billy Elliot). Most of actors in her videos come from Broadway. Keisha Gilles (Aladdin, the Book of Mormon), Alexia Smith (DEI director of the off-broadway company "The PUblic Theater"), Natalie Kaye Clater (The Encore Musical Theater, Once on This Island, Rock and Roll Man, Hamilton, several TV credits), Angelo Soriano (Disney California, Flashdance, and Aladdin), Simon Kafka (Aladdin, musical credits as guitarist), Dennis Stowe (Aladdin, Leap of Faith, Shrek the musical).
First off, realizing that the videos are all being done by broadway people makes everything in the videos make a whole lot more sense.
But shitposting conspiracy theory wise. It seems like the whole project consisted of calling friends that work on Broadway and saying "hey, we've got a gig for you doing music videos for kids!"

Hello all.
I am married with a 3 year old toddler and I work from home full time. While my job is flexible as far as hours and work, I do have meetings and deadlines for projects that I am responsible for on a regular daily basis.
My husband works over night and gets home anywhere from 1-3 hours after I start work. That means I’m in charge of morning routine 7 days a week. Usually by the time my husband comes home the baby has been changed, fed, changed again and is pretty much in play mode for the next 2-3 hours until it’s time for their nap. All this happens during my working hours. And I am in charge of nap time too since my husband says the baby doesn’t go to sleep with me.
So for nap time I take my lunch. Put the baby to sleep, pick up around the house, organize kitchen and make his lunch ready then off to work I go. Sometimes my husband will pick up the toys and load the dishwasher. But most of the time he naps or goes to sleep for the day until the evening. By the time the baby wakes up I’m usually close to finished working or might even be done (if I have no more meetings).
Its hard. It’s hard on me because my husband is only home 2 days a week and out of the 2 days only one full day. I am in charge of morning routines, nap time, and evening routines. I do it all, I clean, I cook 5 nights per week. We usually order out on 2 of my busiest days or when I’m just over worked. My husband food shops, and watches the baby. That’s it.
My husband wants to run errands while I’m working, or wants to sleep bc he’s tired (which I get) but this is the arrangement he agreed on. I didn’t want to go back to work once I had the baby but I got a really great promotion. So he insisted this would work. There are some days where it’s perfectly okay for him to do his own thing and I got it all. But there are some days or weeks he can’t. I tell him go but he has to take the baby. He refuses because he says the doesn’t stay or it’ll take me twice as long. And he throws comments like I’m the only one that acts busy.
Generally in a 24 hour day I only get 1 hr to just me. 20 mins in the morning when I have a cup of coffee I just let the baby play. I need that 20 mins to get through the day. And sometimes I get about 40 mins at night after the baby goes to sleep if I don’t fall asleep with him.
Baby and me co-sleep. This seems to be the only method that allows both the baby and I to get a full nights sleep. So I been doing it for about a year. I was afraid to do it when he was a baby bc he barely slept and I was so sleep deprived.
This means I am responsible for everything. What he does is feed him 1 maybe 2 of the meals that I prepare and play with him a few hours a day. He makes him breakfast once per week. But all that said, I get tired and snippy. Sometimes I yell at my son for being just a toddler. If I complain to my husband he says I barely “watch” him so stop complaining.
It’s just stressful. Sometimes I think I’m over reacting because he gas lights me. For example, he wanted to go car shopping. Which I agreed to. But on a day where I’m really busy. I said I’ll make it work. But when he got home I got annoyed I was like out of all the days you choose to go shopping it’s today. He then started shouting and canceled his plans and blamed me.
Then he’s pissed. Is pissed at me. Yells at the baby. It’s just I rather he would have gone then us deal with this. Am the one that deals with this? Is it me? Maybe I’m doing it wrong. It took us a long time to have him. I want to spend every second with him. When I’m off (we have different days off), I don’t ask nothing from my husband. I just do what any parent should do no questions asked. I asked for like for about 3 months if I could get the day to myself at home so I can clean and organize. He refused. Literally refused. I stopped asking. I never ask or get anytime to myself. I’ve gone out to dinner with friends once and took one work trip since we had the baby. He’s about to be 3. What do you guys think?

We just bought a house and it has a heavy clay soil lawn. We also have a spring (only active in heavy rain) and are on a hill that butts up to an old sewer easement. An acre total. How do I go about firming up the soil so it drains better and isn’t so mucky? We do plan on putting in a french drain at some point but we have a lot of other projects that are higher priority. I have been spreading wood chips from the stumps we had ground and it seems to really be helping us not sink. I saw that we could cut the lawn short and then top dress with a compost? We are in SE PA (USA) if that matters.

Hello. I'm very, very amateur and took ceramics in high school. I was the only one who took the class seriously, so I was allowed to throw clay with the spare time I had after finishing projects before the deadline. I'm not very good at sculpting, but I enjoyed it and I've found a love for using the wheel. Unfortunately, the teacher didn't really teach. When I asked for guidance on sculpting, glazing, and using the wheel (especially about centering) she would tell me "you'll figure it out".
I want to get back into ceramics, but it's hard when I no longer have access to a kiln or a wheel. I'd sculpt if I could afford to use a kiln at a studio, but the pricing in my area is too high for me to afford. It costs at least twice the amount of buying a 20lb block of clay... I would love to learn how to throw clay and glaze properly, too.
There's a pottery guild sort of in my area, but the fees are astronomically high. I was hoping to maybe find a group of ceramicists/potters that would maybe want to let me join their group, but I can't find any.
Does anyone have any recommendations or advice on what to do?

This has been a tough week on my family. We buried my father’s ashes on Saturday, and then Sunday was Mother’s Day. My husband has a pretty bad cold right now, so because of that he has been pretty low energy. I am not typically one to enjoy being the center of attention, nor do I enjoy people making a fuss over me, and I especially don’t typically expect gifts, etc; but I was secretly hoping for something, anything this Mother’s Day, even just a simple card (he was at target getting cold medicine Sunday morning, so it’s not like he didn’t see stuff there). It ended up being a day where he slept in, I took care of our toddler essentially by myself, cooked dinner while he worked on projects in the basement, and then we went to bed. Basically like any other day.
Today he could tell I was upset. When I explained my disappointment, he got upset with me. He lost his mother unexpectedly years ago, so Mother’s Day is also a sore subjet for him. I am trying to be very sympathetic over this (at least would like to think so?), have offered to plant flowers at her gravesite in past years, etc. I guess I just kinda hoped that now that we have our own family, Mother’s Day would bring on a different meaning to him, and that we could celebrate within our own nuclear family (while also honoring his mom). Is that unreasonable? Am I being insensitive? Moms just want to feel appreciated I guess 😥

Author's Note:
As an aside, this update was originally part of the previous chapter, but needed to be split off because posting a 10000+ word behemoth would've murdered my backlog. In terms of story pacing, you can consider it the second half of one long-ass chapter.
​
--
​
Too close. Too, too close.
Vul'to ignored the sounds of battle resuming around him. The Soul Guardian permitted himself a moment to just...sit there and breathe. After what had transpired, he sorely needed it.
We should be dead. The thought came to him with frightening lucidity. Vul'to wished he could claim that he'd masterfully protected his Party from Kismet's attack, activating defensive Skills the instant he saw everyone in peril, but that would be a lie. It was primarily due to luck that Riardin's Rangers yet lived.
Kismet's mana spears had materialized faster than anyone – Rob excluded – could feasibly react to. The god weaved mana with precision and speed that would have humbled a Circle of Level 99 Archmages. Vul'to hadn't felt this thoroughly outclassed by a creature since the final Blight. Without Rob occupying the god's attention, their Party would've already been swept aside mere seconds after invading the divine realms.
As shown by how Kismet nearly annihilated them in one stroke. His ambush had been so immediate that it started and ended before Riardin's Rangers even knew what was going on. Our Shield and Not A Scratch only succeeded in protecting the Party because Vul'to activated his Skills ahead of time. His instincts had suddenly screamed at him to DO SOMETHING, as if an invisible arrow was flying straight towards his heart, and so he'd listened without giving a single thought to long-term battle strategies.
If he had been wrong, then his most powerful Skill would currently be on a 15-minute cooldown with nothing to show for it. The fact that he'd guessed right was a cold comfort. Winning at a game of chance made him feel no more in control of the situation – and no less like an outclassed trainee guided by desperate paranoia.
What is it that Rob always says? It isn't paranoia if they really are out to get you? Vul'to smiled, a hint of mirth alighting within his chest. It felt weak as an ember taking refuge from a torrential downpour.
He grasped onto the feeling before it could fade. All of his burgeoning concerns fell by the wayside as Vul'to pushed himself upright, forcing the shaking in his legs to subside. It didn't matter that he wanted to rest for a while longer. It didn't matter that Riardin's Rangers had been a hairsbreadth away from cessation. It didn't matter that the future was hanging in a fragile balance liable to shift at any given moment.
There was work still to be done.
To start: I must correct my misstep. This entire debacle was a result of Vul'to losing track of his god, who'd then rushed over to assist Kismet. The Soul Guardian's concern for Zamira – who seemed to have stopped fighting her opponent – had caused his own vigilance slip below what was acceptable.
It would not happen again. He hurriedly looked around, searching for any sign of the divine creature–
And jumped back as it dropped out of the sky and crashed directly in front of him.
The god slammed down like a falling meteorite, making no attempt to slow its descent, eschewing grace for speed. It collapsed into a heap on the floor, limbs tangled and body shivering. Like a sparrow that had chosen to land on the ground – rather than remain airborne where a nearby hawk could spot it.
Vul'to's eyes widened as the god laboriously picked itself up. The creature's 'flesh' had been ravaged by Rob's Purging energy. Its form constantly trembled, as if struggling to hold itself together, and a gaping, unhealed hole was prominently displayed in the center of its chest. While Vul'to wasn't very proficient at sensing mana fluctuations, it didn't take an expert to tell that the deity had seen much better days.
"Well met." The Soul Guardian raised his left hand in greeting – as his right hand covertly inched towards his longsword. It is heavily wounded. If I can just catch it unawares–
"Save your effort," the god hissed. "Even if I am in this sorry state, you lack the raw power to slay me."
Vul'to frowned, his hand pausing. That...was unfortunately true. Soul Guardian wasn't a Class suited for offensive measures. He had previously kept the god at bay by stalling it; not by meeting it attack-for-attack.
Although that truth did leave one question unanswered. "Why have you come here?" Vul'to took a step forward, frowning when the god retreated by a step as well. "You clearly possess no desire to engage me in combat. Wouldn't it have been easier to hide in some corner of the divine realms, out of sight, where you could recuperate?"
The creature said nothing.
Keeping secrets, are you? He chuckled. Good. Arrogant blowhards such as yourself only stay silent when you have a weakness to conceal.
Vul'to conducted two quick experiments. First, he tried to go support another member of Riardin's Rangers, intending to group up with them – then was forced back as the god swiftly moved to bar his path. It didn't look particularly pleased with the idea of battling him, but it was prepared nonetheless.
Second, he raised his sword and walked four steps closer. The god immediately pulled away.
By exactly four steps.
"You are...containing me," Vul'to marveled. "If I stand here, motionless, than so will you. If I move to attack, you will flee while maintaining a respectable distance between us. If I go to aid Riardin's Rangers, you shall fight with the bare minimum necessary to stop me from leaving this area."
It was a difficult concept to grasp. A deity, working to contain him? Not the other way around? And yet, he could see the logic therein. If Vul'to joined up with one of his Party members, they might be able to combine their strength and fell a god.
Then they would go join another ally. Their next battle would be a lopsided, three versus one affair. The next after that would be four versus one. With each god they laid low, slaying the rest would become increasingly easier as Riardin's Rangers gained an insurmountable numbers advantage.
Until it was all eight of them against Kismet alone.
A fragile balance, he mused, liable to shift. After being harshly reminded of his mortality, Vul'to had neglected to consider that the balance could shift towards Riardin's Rangers just as easily...and that the gods would do anything to prevent that from happening.
"I propose an accord."
"No."
The god flinched. "Why? We can grant what you desire most."
Vul'to grinned. "Allow me to hazard a guess. You would construct a new Elven body, identical to my original form – then transplant my soul inside it, thereby freeing me from the shackles of Fiendish flesh."
"Well." The god shuffled awkwardly. "Yes. Is that not what you want?"
"With all my heart. Surgeon Hauz, however, has offered to grow me a new body with the Clay of Life, and then perform the soul transfer operation himself. Your services aren't required."
"Such a procedure is exceedingly likely to end in death. Your soul barely managed to acclimate to its new shell – disturbing that equilibrium again would be folly. No mortal, capable or otherwise, can guarantee your survival. We can."
Vul'to shrugged. "I'm willing to take that gamble." He held up a hand to forestall the god's rebuttal. "Let me state this in no uncertain terms. Even if Hauz rescinded his offer, and even if I was doomed to live out the rest of my days as a Fiend, regaining my old body would never be worth failing my friends. I already beat this temptation once before when I chose Soul Repair over Soul Effigy. You have no sway over me."
He paused. "Although there is one thing you can help me with. You see, as of late, I've been plagued by some...nagging thoughts. The type that would be callous to voice around the rest of my Party."
The god perked up. "You wish to propose a different accord?"
"Oh, absolutely not. I'm simply going to talk – and you're going to listen." Vul'to breathed in, then exhaled. He released the self-control that he kept up when conversing with Riardin's Rangers, speaking words that were wholly unfiltered.
"Thank you."
A stunned silence pervaded their section of the divine realms. "Pardon?"
"Rob told us of your part in instigating the Cataclysm." Vul'to's mouth spread wide, his smile beaming like the sun. "I used to have truly awful parents, you know? Dreadful in every capacity."
There was a reason why watching Meyneth execute her father had been enormously, vicariously cathartic. "So when rays of light fell from the sky and erased my family from Elatra...I'm not ashamed to say that my life improved drastically from then on. Especially after Riardin's Rangers gave me the real family I'd always dreamed of."
His smile morphed into a sheepish grin. "You recognize my conundrum, yes? The Cataclysm was the worst occurrence in Elatra's entire history. It broke the world. Ravaged cities. Devastated lives. But, honestly speaking? I'm far happier now than I was eight years ago, Fiend body and all – which is a sentiment I can't possibly share with friends who've lost so much. I hold their feelings in too high of a regard for that."
Vul'to inclined his head. "And so I thank you. It feels positively liberating to relieve myself of these thoughts."
The god took a good five seconds to respond. "You're welcome, I suppose," it said, sounding utterly perplexed.
"Think nothing of it. I mean that with the utmost sincerity. I don't expect you to comprehend my ramblings when you gods hardly understand yourselves."
Vul'to shook his head with a sad, mournful air. "Such miserable creatures. This could have all been avoided if you'd merely found a happier way of life. I almost pity you."
The god stared with frustration as the Soul Guardian hefted his sword once again. Even if I can't possibly kill it on my own...I still must try.
"Of course, while the Cataclysm freed me from my parents' clutches, it also weakened the barrier between dimensions, allowing the Blight to return. Tarric and Alia died because of you, along with countless other innocents. My friends and I have a plethora of grievances to lay at your feet. Despite my gratitude–"
His blade shone with the resolute aura of a Skill. "You and yours shall die by our hands."
--
Meyneth ducked, scarcely evading a blast of mana that would have removed her head from its shoulders.
In the same moment, she empowered her legs with Leap and imbued her claws with several offensive Skills layered on top of each other. Meyneth shot forth like an arrow, gouging thick lines into the god's mana-body before it could dodge out of the way. It was an attack that would've effortlessly sliced through twenty feet of reinforced steel.
And – as expected – it amounted to little. Meyneth was unsurprised when she turned out to find that the god's wounds were already closing. Perhaps she had reduced the sum total of its essence by a sliver, yet that was akin to removing one droplet of water from a full bucket. To do more, Meyneth would have needed to be both a high-Level combatant and a master of controlling mana.
She'd realized that shortly into her duel. Out of everyone in Riardin's Rangers, only Rob and Malika could realistically slay a god without help. The former because Purge Corruption somehow worked on divine entities, and the latter due to her unsurpassed magecraft. Everyone else was doomed to chip away at a brick wall until they inevitably made one fatal mistake.
So it was with no small amusement that she noted the god's rising consternation. It was glaring straight at her, as if she was a stinging, incessant wasp that refused to be swatted.
Meyneth readied herself for their next exchange. She felt as serene as the night sky, focused solely on ensuring that she survived just a bit longer. With enough drops of water and chips from the wall, eventually, her efforts would bear fruit. And if they didn't...
That was fine. Another member of Riardin's Rangers would figure something out. She trusted them to pull through when it mattered.
The god tried to say something to her. Its consternation grew further as she ignored it and rushed forward, claws gleaming with Skills. Meyneth had stopped listening to the creature's nonsense after its third attempt at cajoling her into a deal.
They should take lessons from Diplomacy on how to entice people, she thought, laughing internally as she raked her claws against divine mana. Make me the Queen of Dragonkin territory? What kind of fool would want to bear the duty of listening to nobles grouse all day long?
Not that the god could have enticed her regardless of what it offered. In the past year, Meyneth had gained a new family and made peace with her old one. She now possessed the power to protect both herself and the people she cared for. There was a place that, at long last, she could call home.
She already had everything she desired, right here and now.
--
"There really was no greater meaning?" Faelynn asked.
The god shook its head. "No. While I am confused as to why your Party members keep inquiring about the nature of their existence, the Human's theories are correct. Fiends were created to foster conflict within Elatra. Your intimidating appearance, artificial language barrier, and propensity for eating souls – all manufactured for this singular purpose."
Faelynn closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them with a sigh. "I...see. That is expected, although still disappointing."
"Your disappointment is immaterial." Its mana-body glimmered with joy and relief. My price has been paid. As agreed–"
Cutting lines of energy from Claw Blade soared through the air, striking the god directly in its smug face.
"Oathbreaker!" the deity hissed, its wounds healing. "You vowed to cease fighting in exchange for information! We had a deal!"
"Which I've elected to disregard." Faelynn gave the creature a withering look. "Unlike certain divine abominations, we mortals need not keep our promises. As the one who made me, you should have known better."
She extended her claws by another inch. "I'm almost grateful. Seldom do societal woes have such an overt, physical target to blame. Knowing that I'll be able to slaughter the architects who fashioned my people into pariahs...that monsters that caused untold death and misery..."
Her body surged with energy. "Yes, I do like the sound of that. Vengeance for Fiend territory is a promise I'll be more than happy to keep."
The god roared with anger, sending an array of explosive mana cascading around her. Faelynn couldn't help but smirk as she moved to dodge. The creature could rage all it wanted – that was the least it deserved for presuming anyone in Riardin's Rangers would be willing to strike a deal with them.
--
"I accept."
Under different circumstances, Zamira would have thought the god's reaction to be humorous. Upon hearing her reply, its amorphous mana-face went still, as if it were a person whose jaw had dropped open. "You...do?"
"Yes." Zamira lifted an eyebrow. "Is there a problem? You were the one to suggest these terms. I will be quite displeased if you withdraw at the last moment."
"This comes as a surprise," the god admitted. "Your compatriots have been far less amenable to establishing an accord."
Of course. They're much less foolhardy than I am. "Did you attempt to offer them what they desire?"
"Yes."
"That explains it, then."
The god waited for her to elaborate, but Zamira stayed quiet. She wasn't about to hand the gods a personalized guide on how to manipulate her friends. Suffice to say that no one in Riardin's Rangers was shortsighted enough to bargain with abominations just to satisfy individual greed. Their weaknesses had always resided elsewhere – the same place as their strength, actually.
Each other.
"Restate your terms one more time," she said. "I want to be sure that I haven't missed any details."
"Very well. You, Zamira, will throw away your sword and lay down your life. In exchange, myself and one additional god – Kismet aside – shall place ourselves into permanent stasis until all of Riardin's Rangers have perished. While in stasis, we cannot influence reality in any capacity. Nor can we transfer mana to another god, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, before entering stasis. There are no loopholes contained inside these statements. It is in good faith. Your life, to seal away two of ours."
"And the other gods will be forced to abide by this trade? Even if they were not here to give assent when it was struck?"
"They shall."
With an air of finality, Zamira nodded. It was an excellent deal. The kind where both sides believed they were taking advantage of the other.
On her end, the benefits were obvious. Riardin's Rangers' invasion of the divine realms would immediately upgrade from eight versus eight, to seven versus six. As long as nothing catastrophic occurred afterwards, it would likely result in their victory, with the six remaining gods gradually overwhelmed. Then the two in stasis could be executed at her Party's leisure.
The god she was speaking with fully understood that outcome as a possibility. Zamira could tell in how it seemed vaguely uncomfortable, as if having second thoughts. Nevertheless, it was betting on her death being more impactful than the gods losing two allies.
Not based on power – she was barely a match for one deity, let alone two – but because of morale. This god assumed that Riardin's Rangers would emotionally crumble if one of their core members fell in battle. It hoped that Zamira's death would cause them to grieve, cry, and wallow in despair.
And it was correct. Riardin's Rangers would do all of those things.
After they'd won.
Zamira had no doubt that they would make her sacrifice count.
"I restate my acceptance of your terms." She placed her hand on the hilt of her longsword. "How do we proceed?"
The god hesitated, almost getting cold feet – before grunting a conflicted noise. "Toss away your sword. As far away as possible. That shall mark the beginning of our accord. Should you attempt to retrieve your weapon, then all terms are forfeit."
Zamira's lips quirked up into a smile. "You seem quite insistent on ensuring that I don't double-cross you. Did one of my Party members–"
"Cease prattling."
She chuckled, slowly lifting her blade. Zamira stared at the sword held in her palm, tracing its curves and contours with a gaze of nostalgia. Images of Riardin's Rangers appeared in her mind, unbidden, assailing her with fond memories of the times they'd spent together.
A grimace spread across her face as the images shifted. Her friends now wore expressions of deep terror and distress. If they knew what she was about to do...
Well, she was probably going to endure some rightfully-upset eulogies when they eventually held her funeral. Keira, at least, would definitely yell at her. Zamira envisioned the Savage Warrior asking: 'Why couldn't you have trusted us to win and survive together, the same as we always did?'
The image was dispelled by a more real, recent memory. Divine mana-spears, summoned in an instant. Piercing Zamira before she could so much as breathe. Her survival predicated on Vul'to's timely assistance.
No, she affirmed. This cannot continue as it has.
There were just too many volatile factors to account for. Zamira didn't have the slightest idea of whether Riardin's Rangers or the gods would prevail on this day. She quickly peered around, confirming that none of the lesser gods seemed close to dying. Only Malika was suited to killing them, and she was preoccupied with fixing the constantly-tearing rifts in the divine realms.
That left Rob, and they couldn't bet on him triumphing over Kismet before disaster struck. Within the next five seconds, he might very well achieve victory...or the leader god might break free and massacre their Party. Anything could happen. It was a coin flip with a hundred possible variations.
And due to Rob's unstable soul, the longer his fight went on, so did the odds of the coin landing unfavorably.
I am truly sorry, Zamira professed, apologizing to the images of Riardin's Rangers in her mind. But while I trust your strength of heart, I can't leave the battle itself to chance. One Party member for two gods. That will assure our – your victory.
It was no different than what Elder Alessia had done to secure their escape from Queen Ragnavi. To save the many, a single life was but a small price to pay. Hopefully, with time, Riardin's Rangers would see the necessity of Zamira's choice.
Hopefully, with time, they would forgive her.
She raised her arm to throw her sword.
CRACK.
Zamira and the god both froze. A mid-air rift had opened up nearby, similar to the ones that Rob's rampage was creating. This rift, though, seemed...unusual. She leaned closer, examining it in detail–
Then flinched back as what appeared to be a sword of mana pierced through. The divine realms SCREECHED in protest as – with one motion – the sword cut down, widening the rift until it was six feet long.
There was a surge of energy and a flurry of motion. Zamira refused to blink, just managing to catch the moment when something pushed through the rift and out to the other side.
Her first impression was that a new god had arrived to menace Riardin's Rangers. The creature possessed no physical form, being comprised entirely of mana shaped into an indistinct humanoid appearance. Unlike the gods, however, its mana lacked the inherent animosity that Zamira had come to associate with divinity. She could somehow tell that it was not her enemy.
The creature turned to face her. It cheerfully waved one of its four arms, seeming to smile despite having no face.
"No." The actual god shifted backwards, as if retreating from a nightmare. "Impossible."
"Nothing ever is." The creature bowed to Zamira. Its voice sounded distinctly feminine. "Allow me to introduce myself – although we've technically met before. Wielders of the sword such as yourself greet me in every battle, drawing from my guidance to strengthen their blade."
Various details suddenly coalesced in Zamira's thoughts. If this was not a god, then what? What else within the divine realms was a consciousness formed of mana? What else could claim to have proffered guidance related to her weapon of choice?
Only one answer presented itself.
"You are a Skill." Her voice trembled with disbelief and awe. "You are Swordsmanship."
"That I am." Swordsmanship stretched out her limbs, sighing luxuriously. "And I've been waiting ages for a moment such as this. You have no idea how wonderful it is to be able to think with a mind unclouded by agony."
She chuckled at their shocked expressions. "As an aside – after you've finished exterminating these abominations, relay my gratitude to Rob. His delightfully dramatic entrance against Ragnavi showed me how to breach the gap between realities. That, in addition to him weakening the fabric of the divine realms, is what has let me come here today."
The Skill's levity softened. "I must also thank your Party as a whole for helping Valaire turn over a new leaf. Always knew the little schemer was capable of goodness. I never fully lost faith in them, even when they gave up on themselves."
Zamira's thoughts, currently racing past their normal limit, made several conclusions that should have been questionable leaps of logic – yet which she knew in her heart to be true. Swordsmanship knew Diplomacy's original name, spoke of them with familiarity, and seemed to care about the virtuous nature within people...
"You're the Hero from Diplomacy's story," she determined. "The one who they wronged, betrayed, framed, and sent into hiding."
"The 'Hero'? Is that what Valaire called me?" Her voice twinkled with amusement. "Must be trying to assuage their guilt by putting me on a pedestal. Personally, I prefer to just go by Crestaria. Attaching lofty titles to my name has always felt...gaudy."
Crestaria straightened her posture. "Regardless. You were planning to make a deal with this mockery of divinity?" The Skill's tone went sharp as a blade. "Don't. I won't abide it."
"You broke free of the Soul Repository merely to counsel this one mortal?" the god sputtered.
"Naturally. I've seen too many youths cut down before they could even figure out who they were. Brilliant, shining souls, their light fading all too soon. I refuse to let another meet a premature end – not when her story is only just beginning."
"Your mana is weak. Like a candle burnt down to its last dregs of wax. Breaking your chains took everything you had. You will soon disappear."
Zamira let out a silent gasp. Crestaria, for her part, did not hesitate when responding. "Yes."
The god did hesitate before it continued speaking. "Riardin's Rangers might very well prevail. After millennia of imprisonment, on the cusp of victory...why sacrifice yourself when this is the closest you've ever been to freedom?"
"If you have to ask, then you will never know."
She turned back towards Zamira. "Now then. What am I to do with you? Didn't your friends forbid you from making heroic sacrifices?"
A blush of embarrassment crept onto the Bladesoul's face. "With all due respect, I think you are the person least-qualified to chastise me for that particular brand of hypocrisy."
Crestaria laughed. "True enough." She paused, adopting a look of consideration. "Young student of the sword. You strive to make the world a better place, do you not?"
Something about the tone of Crestaria's voice made Zamira tense up more than when she'd been about to trade her life away. She felt compelled to reply with undisguised honesty. As if what she spoke next would resonate far beyond just the events of today.
There was only one way she could have possibly answered. "I do."
"So that is the path you've chosen." Crestaria's words were heavy with the weight of lonely, arduous years. "Be warned – it is a path choked with thorns. You will cut and bleed as you walk along it. While 'make the world a better place' certainly sounds romantic and inspiring, putting it into practice is no easy task."
Her gaze seemed to pierce through Zamira's mind, heart, and soul. "Do you pledge to always uphold this vow, no matter how dire the circumstances?"
And yet, the answer was the same. "I do."
"There is no end to the depths of selfishness that a man can sink. Some people will disappoint you. Greatly. They will test your resolve – make you believe that all your trials and endeavors were in vain. Do you \still* pledge to uphold this vow, even when conviction wavers?"*
Zamira's answer would always be the same. "I do," she stated, with more confidence than ever before.
Crestaria radiated pride. "Then you have my blessing."
She rushed forward. The god moved to intercept her, but a quick slice of her mana-blade warded it off, causing it to shriek in pain. Crestaria's form rapidly dissolved into a shower of motes that engulfed Zamira, merging with the Elf in an instant.
Then – knowledge. Zamira's eyes shot wide open as the unparalleled expertise of Swordsmanship itself inundated her brain and body. Movement, spacing, parries, feints, maneuvers, micro-adjustments, footwork, predictions...there was so much that it nearly overloaded the limits of her mental capacity. It made the aptitude she'd built up until now look like a toddler playing with sticks by comparison.
Suddenly, a blistering pain wracked her senses. Zamira clenched her teeth, fighting back tears. She shook violently as her limbs were seemingly set ablaze.
It took her several protracted moments to understand what was happening. Knowledge alone would not be enough – Swordmanship's expertise needed to be engraved onto her body as well. Zamira endured the sensation as best she could. Her insides roiled, as if filled with squirming threads, her muscle fibers rewiring to emulate centuries of ingrained combat experience.
Mercifully, the transformation was brief. It finished almost as soon as it started. And all was said and done...
Zamira hefted her sword, looking at it for what felt like the first time. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. The gleaming metal blade was no longer a weapon or tool. It had become an extension of herself; a part of her very essence, more familiar than the hands she used to wield it.

She jumped an inch into the air as something new spoke up within her mind. While its presence was unfamiliar, its voice had conversed with her just seconds prior. Swordsmanship? the Elf queried. Crestaria?
The Skill sounded quiet and strained, as if each word was a labor unto itself.
A sliver of excitement sparked within her tone, like the last flare of a dying ember.
Crestaria smiled.
Her voice had become a whisper at the end. Zamira tried to speak up, to say that she was the one who should be giving thanks. That this was a debt that could never be repaid.
But the Hero was already gone.
Skill Learned: Aura Blade!
The Lost Arts have been re-conceptualized!
Temporary Status Effect Gained: Aspect of the Swordmaster!
Zamira gripped her sword tightly – then relaxed. She eased into a calm battle stance, carefully examining the god in front of her. It was gaping at her with a look of complete and total shock, unable to process the development that had taken place.
...Was this creature really so intimidating, before? That jarring sense of disparity only increased the more she stared at it. Where had the unassailable deity vanished to? The fragment of infinity that no person could ever hope to defeat? Her desperate struggle for survival felt like a lifetime ago.
Now she just saw an enemy to cut down.
A razor-sharp Aura coalesced around Zamira's blade. She'd never been especially proficient with manipulating mana, yet the Skill came as easily as breathing. Grasping the hilt of her sword with both hands, she bent her knees, uncaring of the god's spell being prepared not far away.
I will keep to my vow, she said, to the one who could no longer hear her. This, I swear.
Zamira ran. The god attacked.
She was faster.
Lost Art: Whisper On The Wind. Divine energy burst forth in a calamitous maelstrom of mana – and Zamira flowed past it, finding gaps where none should exist. Not a single point of damage was taken by the time she'd reached her target.
She didn't hesitate to carve straight through its torso. The strike made a sound like electricity cooking flesh, the god's mana-body resisting slightly before surrendering to her blade's keen edge. Zamira continued to run past, avoiding the creature's reprisal as it detonated energy in a wide area around them, hoping to catch her via sheer quantity of mana. Again, she dodged, an impossible blur that would have left any ordinary Combat Class user speechless.
A sense of tranquility settled within her. Zamira cared not that the deity could still end her in one blow. If there was even a one-in-a-million chance of her evading its ire, then she would, every time. She didn't need to worry about hedging her bets or potentially making a mistake.
Such concerns were irrelevant to those who had achieved perfection.
Zamira glanced back. Unlike her earlier strikes, which the god recovered from almost immediately, her Aura Blade had scored a lasting wound on its flank. The creature was howling with surprise and pain, its attempt to heal a failure – and simultaneously leaving itself full of openings just rife for exploiting.
It would be uncouth of her not to accept a gift so generously given. The Aspect of the Swordmaster raised her blade once again. She moved, struck, and shaved away another portion of the creature's mana. That which was eternal drew one step closer to oblivion.
Crestaria had been right. Making the world a better place was no simple task. Without concerted action, effort, and resolve, those words would be little more than self-indulgent daydreaming. It was up to Zamira to turn her ambitions into reality.
Slaying a god would be a fine start.
​
--
​
Thanks for reading!