Annabelle flowers biography
Spring Day 55: Recording the Concrete
2024.05.14 07:12 rdk67 Spring Day 55: Recording the Concrete
I am sitting in one of the disused but quite beautiful parts of the neighborhood, waiting for it to rain.
The rain has already come and gone, a light rain that left traces of dampness on the pavement – the shade of the spring day darkens, becomes real, which is a comfort because that realness, that feeling of extra substance, comes from the water cycle working the way it's supposed to.
I feel it around my nostrils, on the cheeks of my face near the eyes, like I'm a frog looking up from its pond water, which is a pleasant feeling to sashay around town with. This is the spring we all know, the moisture appearing on my skin after drifting miles above the earth ten minutes earlier –
an epic plunge is what we are walking through, but it's already rising again, and let's face it – we live in a cook pot set on media, I mean medium – medium is the setting on the cook pot, which notice is more than a crock. From the frog’s point of view, it is ideal.
From our point of view, standing in the chop of the water cycle, we are soaring in the air – then minutes from now, we might be walking in the clouds, and who knows after that, but this is the context for comings and goings this mid-afternoon – this potential for levitation.
I find a broad and elegant tree stump to sit on and record the concrete. Someday we'll all have concrete recorders but today, we just have me.
The stumps are not indigenous to the property, at least I don't think so, but I'm not exactly sure why I don't think that, given that the facility that occupies the block was once probably a forest with abundant marshy places. The forest went, then some infrastructural evolution played out that upcycled into a world-class performing arts center.
Given that my art, before it is anything, is performative – watch the monkey paint words with a stick – I'm hand-in-glove with the performance of the plaza.
I am sitting in a grove of tree stumps, which automatically brings to mind entropy – we all will die someday, become handsome all-weather furniture that slowly disintegrates – but then the overwhelming pleasantness of the day causes the thought to move on, and the stumps become a moment in time that is also a cross-section of full biography, which is quite a thing to be sitting on, waiting for the rain.
The forecast, which I predict would be one of the more impressive modern achievements to the humans who lived through the ice age – just an opinion – the forecast –
I picture ice-age human faces in stunned wonder as weather prediction after weather prediction comes true. The forecast
says there is a one-hundred percent chance of rain later this afternoon, time precise to the quarter hour, but with Doppler weather radar, one can make one's own data-driven prediction about when the rain will start to the nearest few minutes.
Someday we'll wear watches that are nothing but countdown clocks ’til the next time the forecast calls for rain – when the clock reaches the nearest minute, it switches to seconds.
This broad, elegant stump I'm sitting on sets on a bed of gravel which, when it rains, can convince me it is river gravel – pick up a few of the rounded stones, give them a close look for evidence of the past. I briefly imagine
finding the remains of a sauropod, each piece of gravel containing a tiny piece of a single sauropod, which together add up to the most complete sauropod skeleton yet discovered.
The stump is all take and no give, and yet I think I prefer it to popping open a lawn chair – the imperviousness of the stump being conducive to recording the concrete.
My backside is about eighty-years wide, which is older than my age, which inspires thoughts about backing into predestination, at least where just sitting around on a fine spring day is concerned. Like a bump on a log in a way, and let's face it – the concrete doesn't get much more concrete than that. A splashing sound
comes from the page. I scan the paper like it’s the sky, and I'm waiting for an aerial firework to open, then I find the spot of rain splashed across the phrase think so – think so, is the phrase – which is followed by a second raindrop, this one hitting the word water, causing the ink to run a little.
A one-hundred percent chance – does that even make sense? I picture a barrel of rain, rolling across the plains. Perhaps we should feel lucky for being visited by such a probability – possibly years before it rolls around again.
Rain will undoubtedly fall at this time, we say to our ice-age guests, and they will hold up the one hand like it's rain, hold up the other like it's time, weigh the two sides side-by-side maybe, maybe invent that gesture where the dancer holds both palms above their heads, lifts them up and down like they're raising the roof.
Still, I'm not sure they'll really understand all those computer models, hypotheses wrapping themselves around big-data projects involving sensors and rain gauges deployed across the land, starting centuries ago. Science raised the roof, we might say, at least as far as weather prediction is concerned.
I sense the rain not exactly letting up, retreat to the interior of the performing arts center after taking a few notes.
Along part of the gravel is a long puddle of water from the overnight rain, and I would need but a few fish bones or raccoon tracks to believe the whole thing was situated beside a river, the sort of gravel bed surging with snow melt earlier in the season.
This being the Midwest, higher elevations are usually metaphorical, metaphorical before they are anything else, and I think about the campus surging with graduates this past weekend, the landscape of human potential, in all directions, inundated by them.
Inside now, I see a balloon bouquet along one wall of the concourse, with gold Mylar affirmation – The Best Is Yet to Come! – floating on the end of a ribbon.
A one-hundred percent chance of rain – imagine telling all those graduates, you have a one-hundred percent chance of finding love within a fortnight. Call it a graduation gift, then imagine all those rain gauges quivering in their brackets at the thought of measurements certain to be made, collated, used to improve the algorithms that animate the global gods of rain.
At the far end of the concourse, a lady is teaching a gentleman how to dance – they aren’t touching, aren’t even facing each other – side-by-side – and I hear her call out the moves, move-by-move.
Maybe he’s an actor and she’s going over a certain bit of choreography for an upcoming production. Maybe he’s a restless spirit, and she’s teaching him the art of haunting.
That ghost forest in the gravel outside is adjacent to one of the busiest intersections on campus, and yet, turn your back to it, and it becomes just another element in the stopping and starting of the cosmos.
I could see to either end of the block from that broad, elegant tree stump I was sitting on without really being seen from the street which, along with a lush stand of grass in a nearby raised garden bed, brings to mind the wide-open prairie from centuries past.
I picture deer bounding over golden rod. I picture foxes negotiating cone flowers.
The interior of the performing arts center is designed around the premise of potential – four theaters in league with the cardinal directions, plus a blindingly white amphitheater and a low stage in the concourse itself, where they hand out complimentary spliffs and pass around community bongs during free upbeat life-affirming musical programs, attended by folks after the workday is over, plus a helping of retirees.
Okay, not grass but alcohol, but you get the point – people enjoy shindigs now and then. The lady and gentleman are out of sight, but she’s still giving direction – I can hear their back and forth somewhere around the curve in the wall,
which might stand for the passing of time. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back! For real this time! I imagine myself destroying the pasodoble – no, god, my boot heels! The planks on the floor! I take it back!
The sun returns, so I pick up my things, head back out to that secluded space, spend a few minutes admiring the resoundingly designed program of the building.
Preformed white concrete panels are suspended twelve feet off the ground to establish the roof of the entrance. Ninety-degree angles abundantly in evidence. Brick pixelates the angled outer walls with the stuff of the earth. Ultra-high resolution, they call it around the masonic lodge.
Someone in the amphitheater is having their photo taken by a professional – everyone loves to do photo shoots there. She is wearing dark knee socks, a navy jumper and a blue bowl haircut, or maybe it’s a wig – I can’t tell from here. I picture anime or promotional material for this fine spring day.
A squirrel bounds through the grass – then poses in front of me, paws together, as though summoning oration.
A robin alights on the stone cladding of the raised beds, begins to stand exclusively on its left leg. The leg is angled under the center of mass – it’s a practiced move.
No one knows why the American robin does this – maybe it’s like bird meditation, though the memory of the American robin is so specifically extraordinary when it comes to navigation and geospecific locations that effectively, at the sensual level on up, it is living in a reality separate from our own, so who knows what meditation might mean.
They can see the magnetic fields of the earth in their eyes using a protein called cryptochrome, which reacts to magnetism. Cryptochrome – like something from the Marvel universe.
Maybe when the American robin stands on its left leg, it’s spacing out to the daytime reality of solar storms, the whole environment all aflutter with a phenomenology of waves passing around the material world.
The robin and the squirrel go their separate ways, and I feel the temperature drop – ah, me! the pasodoble! – as the next part of the front crosses campus.
A peel of thunder indicates the breaking of the sound barrier by means of electromagnetism and the displacement of gasses. Electromagnetic properties experience disequilibrium as a kind of earthquake in the sky that causes the air to vibrate in an awe-inspiring way – the sound magnetic fields make when they rearrange themselves in a gaseous atmosphere.
We are fluid dwellers, through and through, we humans and mammals and reptiles and amphibians and lichen gnawing on patches of the plaza’s concrete. Maybe from the standpoint of the atmosphere, land is just one big coral reef.
When that perfect destiny began to drop rain, the sound at first was curious, expectant – an all-squinty-eyed-and-kissy-faced sort of rain began to fall that grew into a snowy hum that seemed to have a simple song playing inside it, like someone playing a ukulele in the room next door, singing along.
The gig carries on for twenty minutes or so – an opening act – before the rain begins to march double time through the streets – barely soldiers even when they were soldiers.
Less tactic and more matador, this rain storm, and its boot heel crashes down on the planking of the still-lovely spring day. These magnetic storms are not
for war making, nor fighting bulls, nor even for entertaining that cosmic bird called the American robin. What are they for then?
American robins also configure their flight by the stars, by remembering features on the land, by creating mental maps of it all.
And they swim with both grace and endurance, as they navigate this liquid world, this concrete way of life.
In the moment, they are roosting in a tree, observing the silver magnetic waves marching through the streets. Made of what? The pasodoble! Concrete.
submitted by rdk67 to MetaphysicalWeather [link] [comments]
The rain has already come and gone, a light rain that left traces of dampness on the pavement – the shade of the spring day darkens, becomes real, which is a comfort because that realness, that feeling of extra substance, comes from the water cycle working the way it's supposed to.
I feel it around my nostrils, on the cheeks of my face near the eyes, like I'm a frog looking up from its pond water, which is a pleasant feeling to sashay around town with. This is the spring we all know, the moisture appearing on my skin after drifting miles above the earth ten minutes earlier –
an epic plunge is what we are walking through, but it's already rising again, and let's face it – we live in a cook pot set on media, I mean medium – medium is the setting on the cook pot, which notice is more than a crock. From the frog’s point of view, it is ideal.
From our point of view, standing in the chop of the water cycle, we are soaring in the air – then minutes from now, we might be walking in the clouds, and who knows after that, but this is the context for comings and goings this mid-afternoon – this potential for levitation.
I find a broad and elegant tree stump to sit on and record the concrete. Someday we'll all have concrete recorders but today, we just have me.
The stumps are not indigenous to the property, at least I don't think so, but I'm not exactly sure why I don't think that, given that the facility that occupies the block was once probably a forest with abundant marshy places. The forest went, then some infrastructural evolution played out that upcycled into a world-class performing arts center.
Given that my art, before it is anything, is performative – watch the monkey paint words with a stick – I'm hand-in-glove with the performance of the plaza.
I am sitting in a grove of tree stumps, which automatically brings to mind entropy – we all will die someday, become handsome all-weather furniture that slowly disintegrates – but then the overwhelming pleasantness of the day causes the thought to move on, and the stumps become a moment in time that is also a cross-section of full biography, which is quite a thing to be sitting on, waiting for the rain.
The forecast, which I predict would be one of the more impressive modern achievements to the humans who lived through the ice age – just an opinion – the forecast –
I picture ice-age human faces in stunned wonder as weather prediction after weather prediction comes true. The forecast
says there is a one-hundred percent chance of rain later this afternoon, time precise to the quarter hour, but with Doppler weather radar, one can make one's own data-driven prediction about when the rain will start to the nearest few minutes.
Someday we'll wear watches that are nothing but countdown clocks ’til the next time the forecast calls for rain – when the clock reaches the nearest minute, it switches to seconds.
This broad, elegant stump I'm sitting on sets on a bed of gravel which, when it rains, can convince me it is river gravel – pick up a few of the rounded stones, give them a close look for evidence of the past. I briefly imagine
finding the remains of a sauropod, each piece of gravel containing a tiny piece of a single sauropod, which together add up to the most complete sauropod skeleton yet discovered.
The stump is all take and no give, and yet I think I prefer it to popping open a lawn chair – the imperviousness of the stump being conducive to recording the concrete.
My backside is about eighty-years wide, which is older than my age, which inspires thoughts about backing into predestination, at least where just sitting around on a fine spring day is concerned. Like a bump on a log in a way, and let's face it – the concrete doesn't get much more concrete than that. A splashing sound
comes from the page. I scan the paper like it’s the sky, and I'm waiting for an aerial firework to open, then I find the spot of rain splashed across the phrase think so – think so, is the phrase – which is followed by a second raindrop, this one hitting the word water, causing the ink to run a little.
A one-hundred percent chance – does that even make sense? I picture a barrel of rain, rolling across the plains. Perhaps we should feel lucky for being visited by such a probability – possibly years before it rolls around again.
Rain will undoubtedly fall at this time, we say to our ice-age guests, and they will hold up the one hand like it's rain, hold up the other like it's time, weigh the two sides side-by-side maybe, maybe invent that gesture where the dancer holds both palms above their heads, lifts them up and down like they're raising the roof.
Still, I'm not sure they'll really understand all those computer models, hypotheses wrapping themselves around big-data projects involving sensors and rain gauges deployed across the land, starting centuries ago. Science raised the roof, we might say, at least as far as weather prediction is concerned.
I sense the rain not exactly letting up, retreat to the interior of the performing arts center after taking a few notes.
Along part of the gravel is a long puddle of water from the overnight rain, and I would need but a few fish bones or raccoon tracks to believe the whole thing was situated beside a river, the sort of gravel bed surging with snow melt earlier in the season.
This being the Midwest, higher elevations are usually metaphorical, metaphorical before they are anything else, and I think about the campus surging with graduates this past weekend, the landscape of human potential, in all directions, inundated by them.
Inside now, I see a balloon bouquet along one wall of the concourse, with gold Mylar affirmation – The Best Is Yet to Come! – floating on the end of a ribbon.
A one-hundred percent chance of rain – imagine telling all those graduates, you have a one-hundred percent chance of finding love within a fortnight. Call it a graduation gift, then imagine all those rain gauges quivering in their brackets at the thought of measurements certain to be made, collated, used to improve the algorithms that animate the global gods of rain.
At the far end of the concourse, a lady is teaching a gentleman how to dance – they aren’t touching, aren’t even facing each other – side-by-side – and I hear her call out the moves, move-by-move.
Maybe he’s an actor and she’s going over a certain bit of choreography for an upcoming production. Maybe he’s a restless spirit, and she’s teaching him the art of haunting.
That ghost forest in the gravel outside is adjacent to one of the busiest intersections on campus, and yet, turn your back to it, and it becomes just another element in the stopping and starting of the cosmos.
I could see to either end of the block from that broad, elegant tree stump I was sitting on without really being seen from the street which, along with a lush stand of grass in a nearby raised garden bed, brings to mind the wide-open prairie from centuries past.
I picture deer bounding over golden rod. I picture foxes negotiating cone flowers.
The interior of the performing arts center is designed around the premise of potential – four theaters in league with the cardinal directions, plus a blindingly white amphitheater and a low stage in the concourse itself, where they hand out complimentary spliffs and pass around community bongs during free upbeat life-affirming musical programs, attended by folks after the workday is over, plus a helping of retirees.
Okay, not grass but alcohol, but you get the point – people enjoy shindigs now and then. The lady and gentleman are out of sight, but she’s still giving direction – I can hear their back and forth somewhere around the curve in the wall,
which might stand for the passing of time. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back! For real this time! I imagine myself destroying the pasodoble – no, god, my boot heels! The planks on the floor! I take it back!
The sun returns, so I pick up my things, head back out to that secluded space, spend a few minutes admiring the resoundingly designed program of the building.
Preformed white concrete panels are suspended twelve feet off the ground to establish the roof of the entrance. Ninety-degree angles abundantly in evidence. Brick pixelates the angled outer walls with the stuff of the earth. Ultra-high resolution, they call it around the masonic lodge.
Someone in the amphitheater is having their photo taken by a professional – everyone loves to do photo shoots there. She is wearing dark knee socks, a navy jumper and a blue bowl haircut, or maybe it’s a wig – I can’t tell from here. I picture anime or promotional material for this fine spring day.
A squirrel bounds through the grass – then poses in front of me, paws together, as though summoning oration.
A robin alights on the stone cladding of the raised beds, begins to stand exclusively on its left leg. The leg is angled under the center of mass – it’s a practiced move.
No one knows why the American robin does this – maybe it’s like bird meditation, though the memory of the American robin is so specifically extraordinary when it comes to navigation and geospecific locations that effectively, at the sensual level on up, it is living in a reality separate from our own, so who knows what meditation might mean.
They can see the magnetic fields of the earth in their eyes using a protein called cryptochrome, which reacts to magnetism. Cryptochrome – like something from the Marvel universe.
Maybe when the American robin stands on its left leg, it’s spacing out to the daytime reality of solar storms, the whole environment all aflutter with a phenomenology of waves passing around the material world.
The robin and the squirrel go their separate ways, and I feel the temperature drop – ah, me! the pasodoble! – as the next part of the front crosses campus.
A peel of thunder indicates the breaking of the sound barrier by means of electromagnetism and the displacement of gasses. Electromagnetic properties experience disequilibrium as a kind of earthquake in the sky that causes the air to vibrate in an awe-inspiring way – the sound magnetic fields make when they rearrange themselves in a gaseous atmosphere.
We are fluid dwellers, through and through, we humans and mammals and reptiles and amphibians and lichen gnawing on patches of the plaza’s concrete. Maybe from the standpoint of the atmosphere, land is just one big coral reef.
When that perfect destiny began to drop rain, the sound at first was curious, expectant – an all-squinty-eyed-and-kissy-faced sort of rain began to fall that grew into a snowy hum that seemed to have a simple song playing inside it, like someone playing a ukulele in the room next door, singing along.
The gig carries on for twenty minutes or so – an opening act – before the rain begins to march double time through the streets – barely soldiers even when they were soldiers.
Less tactic and more matador, this rain storm, and its boot heel crashes down on the planking of the still-lovely spring day. These magnetic storms are not
for war making, nor fighting bulls, nor even for entertaining that cosmic bird called the American robin. What are they for then?
American robins also configure their flight by the stars, by remembering features on the land, by creating mental maps of it all.
And they swim with both grace and endurance, as they navigate this liquid world, this concrete way of life.
In the moment, they are roosting in a tree, observing the silver magnetic waves marching through the streets. Made of what? The pasodoble! Concrete.
2024.05.14 06:09 HopeHotwife ISO rooted cuttings, starting over again
Hi guys! I'm in search of some rooted cuttings and was wondering if anyone on here could help me out. I've moved a lot over the last few years with the military and we're finally settled in this house for a while. So if you're pruning or thinning or just experimenting with propagation, keep me in mind please! Lol.
Some of my favorites that I've had to leave behind and would love to replace are:
Annabelle Hydrangea Jasmine officinale Vetiver grass - Sunshine Pawpaws Dinner plate dahlias Oriental lilies Lavender Lemon and lime trees
I have a messy cottage garden starting up again finally. Comfrey, blackberries, a baby baptisia, irises, calla lilies, crinum, lemon balm, catmint, a Jude the Obscure rose, and purple heart are what I've managed to get going here so far outside of annuals. 💜
I love odd colors, fragrant flowers and pretty much any cottage garden plant.
submitted by HopeHotwife to gardening [link] [comments]
Some of my favorites that I've had to leave behind and would love to replace are:
Annabelle Hydrangea Jasmine officinale Vetiver grass - Sunshine Pawpaws Dinner plate dahlias Oriental lilies Lavender Lemon and lime trees
I have a messy cottage garden starting up again finally. Comfrey, blackberries, a baby baptisia, irises, calla lilies, crinum, lemon balm, catmint, a Jude the Obscure rose, and purple heart are what I've managed to get going here so far outside of annuals. 💜
I love odd colors, fragrant flowers and pretty much any cottage garden plant.
2024.05.13 14:25 Putrid_Turn7265 I'm afraid my sister is loosing her sanity, it might be our fault and there's nothing I can do about it
I'm worried, and I'm sad, as I have this weird feeling that my dear sister is already gone, and there's nothing I can do to get her back. I come from a family of 3 siblings : my sister June (28F), me (25F) and my brother Alex (21M). We also took in our cousin Ariane (17F) when she was younger as her parents' divorce was very rocky. She was with us from 10 to 15 yo. I have to admit June was always more of a mother to us 3 than our own mother. Our parents were great and provided us with everything we needed, but they were not really available for us. My mother was a workaholic and suffered from work-related injuries. Her right arm was left paralyzed from this. My father worked everyday, even on weekends, and he would be gone from 7am to 7pm.
June was left doing everything in the house since she was at least 12 yo : cooking meals, chores, groceries,... She was the one we would wake up in the night when we were feeling ill, or had an "accident". She was the one who would bandage us up when we fell. She was the one comforting us when we were sad or had a nightmare. She was the one who helped us do our homework and recite our lessons. She always made sure we were happy and safe. It's useless to say that we adored her.
I hate to admit that I began to resent her growing up. I was jealous of my friend's sisters who would take them on shopping sprees, had boyfriends and went to parties. While the only outing June allowed herself was her part-time job as a groomer in a nearby ranch. She only had 1 friend she never saw, and her social skills were terrible. She was shy, socially awkward, and had a hard time outside of the house. She never told us, but I think she hated school. When she turned 18, she began to work full time at the ranch. And even then, she would came back home and do all the chores and take care of us 3 teens. My boyfriend always calls her Snow White. Anytime he would visit, she'd be scrubbing the floor, ironing, cooking,... And she was always humming or singing, surrounded by our pets. We thought it was cute, and never realized she was overworked.
There was an incident when my brother found her passed out in the bathroom. She would always stay close to 1 hour in the bathroom in the evening. We used to joke that she had to scrub every inch of her body to get rid of the manure stench. Once, she forgot to lock the bathroom, and Alex got in. He found her asleep on the floor, laying on a bath towel. She later admitted she was sometimes so tired she'd actually had a 40 minutes nap on the bathroom floor, then 20 minutes to shower and get ready. She said it was because it was the only place our parents will not bother her, but now I think we also had our responsibility in this. One by one, we left the house. Al moved to the city with his girlfriend to pursue their music career, and they are doing great. I moved in with my boyfriend of 8 years and we are engaged, and Ariane went back to her father. June was left alone with our parents. She cried every time one of us would move out, she seemed so happy that it turned out great for us. When our father retired, June was 26 and finally felt comfortable leaving the house as well. She bought a small bungalow in the countryside. Our father was worried as the location is pretty isolated, but June has a big dog, and it's only a 10 minutes drive from their house. We thought she was doing great, and she was finally in her element. We saw each other at family events, and she seemed still tired, but serene. One month ago, Alex wanted us to reunite for old time's sake, the four of us and our s.o. June invited us to her bungalow, it had been a while since we all went there together. She had dressed a beautiful table, and we could see she had put her heart in a delicious meal as always. However, her behavior was very off... She was very quiet, and had a sad smile. Like her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were like... lifeless. She seemed very "cautious" around us. Walking on eggshells all the time. Like she was talking, but adding "I hope it's okay if I say that " or "You don't have to tell me if it's to personal". Alex' girlfriend's name is Annabelle. "You want more wine, Ann ... oops. Hope it's okay if I call you Ann, Sorry, I know some people don't like when you use nicknames".
The way she dresses also changed. She used to wear dresses all the time. Girly dresses, with flowers and frills. But now she wears large baggy pants and simple black tops. She has like a dozen in her bathroom. I also found antidepressants in her bathroom while looking for a towel. It worries me. She's always been the strong one, the pillar of the family. She never told anyone about mental health issues she might have. When we were outside, a murder of crows landed in her garden. One of them was on the fence and she told it "Not today yet, friend". She then turned to us and said "He's waiting for me to drop dead so he can eat my eyes, the rascal". There are spiders everywhere in the house. Don't get me wrong, the house is squeaky clean, but the spiders remained untouched. My boyfriend tried to smash one above the sink, and June screamed "No !! Leave Betty alone, she's a friend!". She pretended it was because the spiders keep the fly and mosquitoes outside. But I have a weird feeling. Ariane asked to see the large cabinet in which June exposed some wooden miniatures she builds. It's really cute. But we noticed she also got into resin, and in one of the drawers was a collection of dead insects preserved in resin. It was never in her character to do something like that, and Al joked about the kind of "Jeffrey Dahmer" hobby this was. She got defensive, and told us the bugs were already dead, she just preserved them in resin for whatever reason. Something weird also, she talks to an "entity" in her house. Apparently it locked her in the attic once, bangs on doors, and plays with the lightbulbs in the house. I don't believe in paranormal at all. But when we were eating, the kitchen light began to flicker. June sighed and said "Come on, sir. I have guests. Stop now". And just like that, it stopped. Ariane was pale as a sheet, she's very into ghosts and stuff. June didn't elaborate further than "Don't worry, he's annoying but harmless". Alex had taken his guitar with him. He asked June if she'd be down to sing with him for old time's sake. June would never have passed an occasion to sing. But she pretended she had a sore throat, and "maybe next time". I don't know. She's not the sister I used to know. I worry something wrong is going on. I talked about it to Alex, who said she was just tired, and maybe she missed us, which is why she looked so nostalgic. I also aksed my boyfriend, who thinks now she had more free time, so her creative side is expanding. And even if it's in a way we don't like, who should just be glad for her. I didn't talk to Ariane about it, she's young and I don't want her to worry. But I can't help but think about June. She's not the same person. We used to hug a lot, but now she seemed tense when I hugged her goodbye. Almost... scared. I need to talk to someone about this. But I don't know who. I can't force her to see a therapist. Hell, I don't even know if something's wrong with her, or if I'm just overreacting. I send her some messages, and she always replies with smileys and "take care". But I don't know. Maybe we staid away from her too long, she's feeling alone, something in her broke... It's like she's a ghost of her former self. A shell. I'm so scared she might do something bad to herself.
submitted by Putrid_Turn7265 to Vent [link] [comments]
June was left doing everything in the house since she was at least 12 yo : cooking meals, chores, groceries,... She was the one we would wake up in the night when we were feeling ill, or had an "accident". She was the one who would bandage us up when we fell. She was the one comforting us when we were sad or had a nightmare. She was the one who helped us do our homework and recite our lessons. She always made sure we were happy and safe. It's useless to say that we adored her.
I hate to admit that I began to resent her growing up. I was jealous of my friend's sisters who would take them on shopping sprees, had boyfriends and went to parties. While the only outing June allowed herself was her part-time job as a groomer in a nearby ranch. She only had 1 friend she never saw, and her social skills were terrible. She was shy, socially awkward, and had a hard time outside of the house. She never told us, but I think she hated school. When she turned 18, she began to work full time at the ranch. And even then, she would came back home and do all the chores and take care of us 3 teens. My boyfriend always calls her Snow White. Anytime he would visit, she'd be scrubbing the floor, ironing, cooking,... And she was always humming or singing, surrounded by our pets. We thought it was cute, and never realized she was overworked.
There was an incident when my brother found her passed out in the bathroom. She would always stay close to 1 hour in the bathroom in the evening. We used to joke that she had to scrub every inch of her body to get rid of the manure stench. Once, she forgot to lock the bathroom, and Alex got in. He found her asleep on the floor, laying on a bath towel. She later admitted she was sometimes so tired she'd actually had a 40 minutes nap on the bathroom floor, then 20 minutes to shower and get ready. She said it was because it was the only place our parents will not bother her, but now I think we also had our responsibility in this. One by one, we left the house. Al moved to the city with his girlfriend to pursue their music career, and they are doing great. I moved in with my boyfriend of 8 years and we are engaged, and Ariane went back to her father. June was left alone with our parents. She cried every time one of us would move out, she seemed so happy that it turned out great for us. When our father retired, June was 26 and finally felt comfortable leaving the house as well. She bought a small bungalow in the countryside. Our father was worried as the location is pretty isolated, but June has a big dog, and it's only a 10 minutes drive from their house. We thought she was doing great, and she was finally in her element. We saw each other at family events, and she seemed still tired, but serene. One month ago, Alex wanted us to reunite for old time's sake, the four of us and our s.o. June invited us to her bungalow, it had been a while since we all went there together. She had dressed a beautiful table, and we could see she had put her heart in a delicious meal as always. However, her behavior was very off... She was very quiet, and had a sad smile. Like her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were like... lifeless. She seemed very "cautious" around us. Walking on eggshells all the time. Like she was talking, but adding "I hope it's okay if I say that " or "You don't have to tell me if it's to personal". Alex' girlfriend's name is Annabelle. "You want more wine, Ann ... oops. Hope it's okay if I call you Ann, Sorry, I know some people don't like when you use nicknames".
The way she dresses also changed. She used to wear dresses all the time. Girly dresses, with flowers and frills. But now she wears large baggy pants and simple black tops. She has like a dozen in her bathroom. I also found antidepressants in her bathroom while looking for a towel. It worries me. She's always been the strong one, the pillar of the family. She never told anyone about mental health issues she might have. When we were outside, a murder of crows landed in her garden. One of them was on the fence and she told it "Not today yet, friend". She then turned to us and said "He's waiting for me to drop dead so he can eat my eyes, the rascal". There are spiders everywhere in the house. Don't get me wrong, the house is squeaky clean, but the spiders remained untouched. My boyfriend tried to smash one above the sink, and June screamed "No !! Leave Betty alone, she's a friend!". She pretended it was because the spiders keep the fly and mosquitoes outside. But I have a weird feeling. Ariane asked to see the large cabinet in which June exposed some wooden miniatures she builds. It's really cute. But we noticed she also got into resin, and in one of the drawers was a collection of dead insects preserved in resin. It was never in her character to do something like that, and Al joked about the kind of "Jeffrey Dahmer" hobby this was. She got defensive, and told us the bugs were already dead, she just preserved them in resin for whatever reason. Something weird also, she talks to an "entity" in her house. Apparently it locked her in the attic once, bangs on doors, and plays with the lightbulbs in the house. I don't believe in paranormal at all. But when we were eating, the kitchen light began to flicker. June sighed and said "Come on, sir. I have guests. Stop now". And just like that, it stopped. Ariane was pale as a sheet, she's very into ghosts and stuff. June didn't elaborate further than "Don't worry, he's annoying but harmless". Alex had taken his guitar with him. He asked June if she'd be down to sing with him for old time's sake. June would never have passed an occasion to sing. But she pretended she had a sore throat, and "maybe next time". I don't know. She's not the sister I used to know. I worry something wrong is going on. I talked about it to Alex, who said she was just tired, and maybe she missed us, which is why she looked so nostalgic. I also aksed my boyfriend, who thinks now she had more free time, so her creative side is expanding. And even if it's in a way we don't like, who should just be glad for her. I didn't talk to Ariane about it, she's young and I don't want her to worry. But I can't help but think about June. She's not the same person. We used to hug a lot, but now she seemed tense when I hugged her goodbye. Almost... scared. I need to talk to someone about this. But I don't know who. I can't force her to see a therapist. Hell, I don't even know if something's wrong with her, or if I'm just overreacting. I send her some messages, and she always replies with smileys and "take care". But I don't know. Maybe we staid away from her too long, she's feeling alone, something in her broke... It's like she's a ghost of her former self. A shell. I'm so scared she might do something bad to herself.
2024.05.13 04:12 thefinalroman Harlan Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden
 | Reddit Account: u/thefinalroman submitted by thefinalroman to ITRPCommunity [link] [comments] Discord Tag: Ravd Name and House: Harlan Tyrell Age: 53 Cultural Group: Reachman Appearance: Not particularly tall, with a body that has begun to show both its age and a slight paunch. Harlan maintains a great bushy beard of brown hair, and projects an air of intelligence and wit. https://preview.redd.it/2fyapy89r30d1.png?width=768&format=png&auto=webp&s=5f8abb5e72fae0aea7ff766ea4f410a50a7797d5 Trait: Numerate Skill(s): Avaricious (e), Architect, Scrutinous, Broker Talent(s): Reading, Writing, Architecture Negative Trait(s): N/A Starting Title(s): Lord Paramount of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South Starting Location: King's Landing Alternate Characters: N/A Biography: Growing up, Harlan always wanted to be more than what his family had been limited to. He had heard and read stories of the founding of his house, of Ser Alester Tyrell and his skill at arms, of the inheritance of Gareth Tyrell, and the good works they had done in order to establish the members of House Tyrell as the hereditary stewards of the Reach. He endeavored to live up to their works, to build the Reach into the greatest kingdom in all of Westeros. And yet, Harlan found himself saddled with a king who found that gold was best spent, rather than saved or invested. Time and time again, Harlan’s father and eventually Harlan himself tried to curb the appetites of King Mern IX, and time and time again they were rebuffed. It came to a head when, at the nameday celebration of the young boy Gyles Gardener, Harlan balked at the king’s wishes for an extravagant ceremony. “My king, he is but a boy, and not even in line for the throne.” Harlan had said politely, reviewing the ledgers of the Reach even as the king drunkenly rose from his seat. Wine sloshing from his cup, the king had gripped his steward’s shoulder with one hand, partly to stabilize himself, mainly to prevent the man from escaping. “I am the king, you dolt. And celebrations and festivities are all I wish. Glory and honor, good times and plenty are my right. You can keep your golden flowers, and count them as you wish.” The king then let out a loud guffaw, and declared that Harlan Tyrell would henceforth be known as “the Lord of Golden Flowers”, a mocking title for a house with no lands, no armies, and no prospects of advancement. Harlan took the issue in stride, and made the golden rose the symbol of his house. It would still be a house with no castle of its own, no lands, and yet House Tyrell would make sure the Reach grew. Then, the dragons came. Then King Mern IX rode off with the largest host Westeros had ever seen, and did not return, smoke and ash drifting off of the Field of Fire. When Gyles Gardener returned alone, grey-faced and utterly bereft, Harlan could not believe the irony. Would this boy, whose nameday farce had given Harlan his purpose, now ascend as his king? As fate would have it, no. Gyles, having seen enough horrors for one lifetime, elected to vacate his family’s heritage. Harlan, seeing where the wind was blowing, elected to open the gates to Aegon Targaryen, hoping to be spared whatever cruelty the Conqueror had in mind. As fate would have it, Harlan received something beyond all imagination: lordship. Not just over a single keep, but over the entire Reach. It was more than he could dream for, and more than he could handle at first. And yet, he made it work. Harlan forged stronger ties with Dorne, using money and economic ties where his predecessors once tried to use armies. He worked hard to integrate Lord Gyles (for the boy, now man, had won himself honor through combat) into the workings of the realm, ensuring that, no matter how many grumbled, none could say Lord Harlan was not doing all he could for the Reach. When the Conqueror died, Harlan scarcely glanced up from his ledgers. Even if the realm upended itself in war, the Reach could only survive through the might of its wealth, its power to raise and feed armies. So, Harlan continued, working hard with the Regent in order to ensure the prosperity of the realm. Rhaenys seemed content to dither away on an isle in the Stepstones, and Visenya had isolated herself in the Vale. So long as they did not bother him, he would not raise a finger against them. The Kingswood Catastrophe, the increase in holy fanatics, none of that compared to the Battle of Stonebridge. Lord Harlan had ventured forth to capture the Orphans, only to witness fire devour a river, eating its way down the Mander. His goal was ever the same: to build the Reach into the greatest region in all of Westeros. But, now he had a focus: to oppose those who would threaten everything, and to prevent madmen from burning it all down. Timeline
ACName and House: Gareth TyrellAge: 23 Cultural Group: Reachman Appearance: Gareth resembles a younger version of his father, sans the beard, and somewhat thinner. https://preview.redd.it/vhlpk1obr30d1.jpg?width=768&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=64e6c31a518ab1fd60e263224d8b605265db86f1 Trait: Mastermind Skill(s): Espionage (e), Devious Talent(s): Book Repair, Illumination, Poetry Negative Trait(s): N/A Starting Title(s): Heir to Highgarden Starting Location: King's Landing Alternate Characters: N/A NPCs
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2024.05.10 21:14 Smart_Bandicoot9609 I'd appreciate it if you could provide some feedback for these three short writing prompts.
1.He wasn’t used to seeing the chaple from this angle. The view from the last pew made it look larger but at the same time warmer and more agreeable. The pews in front of him were worn-out and the wooden floors and roof had begun to rot. Lighting was scant. No candles were lit and the moonlight didn’t reach through the dirt-stained windows.
This late into the night, most of the people were already gone. The only ones still present were a young lady, Ariadne, who had just lost her husband in the battle of Arras, Mr. Jackson the towns fishmonger who was praying for his son’s recovery from typhus and Lennie, the chapel's caretaker. But the priest, for the first time, wished that there were none. These people never did anything to him and as the town’s priest he knew well each and everyone of them. He knew their problems and used to advise and console them every Sunday after the sermon. He never wanted to hut them. But now it was too late to back up. The decision was made. The explosives were already laid out under the pews and the detonator was sitting beside him, hidden by his oversized vestment. Just like many able bodied men who didn’t join the front lines, he had learned how to make bombs and ammunitions to support the troops.
Two days ago, the doctors had told him that he wouldn't last the summer. The shadow in his lungs was worsening. Hearing the news his heart had sunk, turning his thoughts to God. To the God he had believed in his whole life and dedicated half of it. Even after the Great War broke out, he managed to keep his faith steady. He believed that God had a grand design, a reason for every sorrow. But he wasn’t so sure anymore. How could God betray him? Him who had done nothing but serve him for so many years? Did he really have a plan, or was it all a trick? He sat there silently, looking at the Bible, always in his hands, when suddenly, a creak broke the silence, drawing his attention to the temple's entrance.
There now stood Sister Margaret, the nun who tended the temple’sgardens. She approached the priest and asked
"Father Jonathan, are you alright?"
The priest looked at her briefly before turning back to the Bible.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Sister Margaret examined him for a moment, but decided not to press him further. She took a small bouquet from the folds of her dress, which she had gathered from the garden earlier that day, and gave it to him.
"I think they will brighten the temple for tomorrow's service. They will bring a note of beauty and hope,casting away the sorrow and darkness of the past few days. What do you think?"
The priest took the flowers and touched their petals with his fingers, letting their sweet fragrance fill the air around him. Knowing what he intended to do, he suddenly felt a sense of guilt.
"Thank you," he whispered.
As the nun made a gentle nod and turned to leave, the priest's thoughts began to waver. Her kindness and gentleness, the sight of these people seeking solace in the chaple, and the flowers in his hands rekindled his faith and hope.
But the moment lasted only a few seconds.His mortality began to weigh on him again,giving rise to new doubts and a sense of betrayal. As the hours passed and the candles began to melt, Jonathan remained lost in his thoughts.He opened the Bible, tracing with his fingers the words he had known since childhood,but they offered him no solace now. Every line seemed to mock him with promises of redemption and salvation. The temple seemed to swallow him up, its walls closing in around him, echoing with sinister whispers filled with uncertainty and confusion.
So, with the first rays of the new dawn already peeking through the windows, Jonathan made his decision. With his heart beating faster, he stood up and walked towards the altar. He placed the bouquet in a vase and returned to his sit.
Molly draw her snout and her whiskers twitched as she lifted her shoulders before dropping them again. She made no reply.
“Careful now. I hear this is your third empty-handed visit right? Man, I’m so sorry. I really am you know. Being demoted to sewer-patrol uff!”
With eyes glued at the muddy wall in front of her, Molly allowed him to prattle on without making a sound. Let him talk. What the hell does he know in any case?
“Hit the jackpot this week, I did. Guess what I stumbled upon two days back.”
Still staring vacantly at the wall in front of her Molly whispered “I don’t know. Trouble?”
“Always the joker. Well, I found blueberries! Can you believe it? Mr Ernie says I’m on the fast track to a promotion. And here I thought you and Miles would beat me to it.”
She turned her gaze toward him and tilting her head to one side, narrowed her eyes without making a sound.
“And Jonny scored ham! Real, fresh ham Molly! And the other day, Benny found a warehouse by the docks...I tell you girl, you should really team up with someone. That is, if it’s not too late already. Besides, Miles is gone. Just let him go. But man... I’m so sorry you know.”
The hair on Molly’s back raised, her ears flexed and all she wanted was to wipe that stupid smile of his off of his face. But her body was frozen solid. Only her back paws were now fidgeting against the soggy ground.
“Anyways.That’s life for ya Toodles!”
Alone in the waiting room, her thoughts caught up with her. Those were the days indeed. What a team they made! Molly and Miles. Miles and Molly. Not a single day went by without some exquisite find. They could uncover anything. Anything! The pride of the tribe, envied by all the foragers. That is, Miles was. She was just lucky to be his partner and his friend. She was never as good as Miles. He was smart, fast, strong and he could sniff out food from miles away. Always knew the best way to get it too..Despite his seemingly swallow and boisterous personality, he was serious-minded. Always had a plan, the best plan. While she felt she was just along for the ride. And the day she thought she could finally prove herself to Miles by stumbling across this god-damned chunk of peanut butter. What a fool she had been. She still remembered everything. How he pushes her away and fells in the trap instead of her. How she tries to free him. How they can hear the humans approaching. How scared she feels. How Miles calls after her, pleading her to help him. How she leaves him and runs. The next day she goes back for him but the trap is empty. She finds Miles’ dead body in the trash can nearby.
“Mr Ernie says you can pass now, Miss”. The new guys voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She got up and quickly made her way through the damp corridor to the overseer’s office. "No demotion this time. A warning will suffice for now given the circumstances” Mr Ernie told her.
************************************************************************************************************************
To me they seem a bit cringy and I am not sure how to fix it. I know I tell too much instead of showing especially in the first one. And I think they don't flow naturally. I am also not sure if the dialogue is natural and indicative of the characters' personalities.
(Overlook for now any spelling/grammar mistakes. English is not my first language and I didn't have the chance to correct them grammar-wise yet)
Thank you!
submitted by Smart_Bandicoot9609 to writingcritiques [link] [comments]
This late into the night, most of the people were already gone. The only ones still present were a young lady, Ariadne, who had just lost her husband in the battle of Arras, Mr. Jackson the towns fishmonger who was praying for his son’s recovery from typhus and Lennie, the chapel's caretaker. But the priest, for the first time, wished that there were none. These people never did anything to him and as the town’s priest he knew well each and everyone of them. He knew their problems and used to advise and console them every Sunday after the sermon. He never wanted to hut them. But now it was too late to back up. The decision was made. The explosives were already laid out under the pews and the detonator was sitting beside him, hidden by his oversized vestment. Just like many able bodied men who didn’t join the front lines, he had learned how to make bombs and ammunitions to support the troops.
Two days ago, the doctors had told him that he wouldn't last the summer. The shadow in his lungs was worsening. Hearing the news his heart had sunk, turning his thoughts to God. To the God he had believed in his whole life and dedicated half of it. Even after the Great War broke out, he managed to keep his faith steady. He believed that God had a grand design, a reason for every sorrow. But he wasn’t so sure anymore. How could God betray him? Him who had done nothing but serve him for so many years? Did he really have a plan, or was it all a trick? He sat there silently, looking at the Bible, always in his hands, when suddenly, a creak broke the silence, drawing his attention to the temple's entrance.
There now stood Sister Margaret, the nun who tended the temple’sgardens. She approached the priest and asked
"Father Jonathan, are you alright?"
The priest looked at her briefly before turning back to the Bible.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Sister Margaret examined him for a moment, but decided not to press him further. She took a small bouquet from the folds of her dress, which she had gathered from the garden earlier that day, and gave it to him.
"I think they will brighten the temple for tomorrow's service. They will bring a note of beauty and hope,casting away the sorrow and darkness of the past few days. What do you think?"
The priest took the flowers and touched their petals with his fingers, letting their sweet fragrance fill the air around him. Knowing what he intended to do, he suddenly felt a sense of guilt.
"Thank you," he whispered.
As the nun made a gentle nod and turned to leave, the priest's thoughts began to waver. Her kindness and gentleness, the sight of these people seeking solace in the chaple, and the flowers in his hands rekindled his faith and hope.
But the moment lasted only a few seconds.His mortality began to weigh on him again,giving rise to new doubts and a sense of betrayal. As the hours passed and the candles began to melt, Jonathan remained lost in his thoughts.He opened the Bible, tracing with his fingers the words he had known since childhood,but they offered him no solace now. Every line seemed to mock him with promises of redemption and salvation. The temple seemed to swallow him up, its walls closing in around him, echoing with sinister whispers filled with uncertainty and confusion.
So, with the first rays of the new dawn already peeking through the windows, Jonathan made his decision. With his heart beating faster, he stood up and walked towards the altar. He placed the bouquet in a vase and returned to his sit.
- "Oh, well what the hell" he thinks to himself as he lights his third-in-a-row cigarette. Today should have marked his 15th year without one, and under normal circumstances he would have been out, celebrating the occasion with Annabelle. She would have surely found a way to tease him, as always. Life was a never ending surprise around her. Just like five years ago when she used cigarette-shaped candles on his five-year anniversary cake. "Cigarette candles! How did she come up with such things." He thinks to himself. He tilts his head backward, eyes closed, letting the smoke exit his nostrils slowly. The wind on his face is hot and stifling, bringing with it the smell of smoke and burned flesh that still permeates the atmosphere. Ash, embers and burned paper are flying all around him tangling in his hair. Looking down now he can see what is left of Aldea. The city is dead. No more bright streetlights polluting the night sky. No more giant screens advertising perfumes and luxurious jewelry or asking you to donate money to hungry children across the globe. No more cars with their horns and their wheels against the asphalt. Nothing. Everything is dark, quite and still. The only light still visible, is coming from the leftover fires still smoldering here and there all around the eastern side. He is sitting alone on the roof's parapet, feet dangling, the only survivor left of the group that set out for the rooftop of "Nova Haven Luxury Suites" after the bombs started falling. A history professor had argued that they would be safer there, on the rooftop of the tallest building left standing. But he is dead now. Just like everyone else. Just like he will soon too be dead. "Guess it doesn't really matter where I stand now. There’s no escaping this. The stuff is everywhere". He mumbles between drags. He tries to stand up but the dizziness and nausea won’t let him. He can feel his fever getting worse too. He sits down again, thinking. What he can’t wrap his head around is how fast everything had happened. How instantaneously a whole city, a whole population can vanish, leaving nothing but vague trails of their existence and burned shadows on the walls. When he woke up two days ago, he had the exact same thought he had been having every morning since he became an adult. "If only the world could end, then I wouldn't have to wake up and go to work". And then the bombs started falling without a warning. No one saw them coming. Not even those astute guys from the Southern Intelligence Unit who spend their whole lives collecting information on local citizens to protect the nation from foreign threats. And now with the horrifying screams still in his ears, with the smell of death all around him and the stars brighter than ever above his head, he searches in his heart for that freedom and relaxation that he imagined the end of the world would bring but he finds only terror. Terror and grief. All he hopes now is to see the sun rise. He doesn't remember when he saw it for the last time. Perhaps when he was ten and his father had taken him fishing against his will. "Father-Son bonding" he had called it. But he wont see the sun rise. In the next few hours, his hair, already thinning will have fallen completely. His bruised, red skin will be filled with open sores and ulcers. And If there will be anyone left to find him, they will encounter a shriveled, disfigured body with dried blood all around its mouth and nose.
- “Hey there, Molly! What’s up girl? Still coming up empty handed, I see?” Danny's voice rang out through the waiting room as he strolled in. He cast a quick glance at the new guy by the corridor, twiddling and clutching a hunk of stale bread. “Your turn chump!”. The new guy sprang up with a jolt, and vanished through the dark corridor from which Danny had just emerged squeezing the piece of bread against his chest.
Molly draw her snout and her whiskers twitched as she lifted her shoulders before dropping them again. She made no reply.
“Careful now. I hear this is your third empty-handed visit right? Man, I’m so sorry. I really am you know. Being demoted to sewer-patrol uff!”
With eyes glued at the muddy wall in front of her, Molly allowed him to prattle on without making a sound. Let him talk. What the hell does he know in any case?
“Hit the jackpot this week, I did. Guess what I stumbled upon two days back.”
Still staring vacantly at the wall in front of her Molly whispered “I don’t know. Trouble?”
“Always the joker. Well, I found blueberries! Can you believe it? Mr Ernie says I’m on the fast track to a promotion. And here I thought you and Miles would beat me to it.”
She turned her gaze toward him and tilting her head to one side, narrowed her eyes without making a sound.
“And Jonny scored ham! Real, fresh ham Molly! And the other day, Benny found a warehouse by the docks...I tell you girl, you should really team up with someone. That is, if it’s not too late already. Besides, Miles is gone. Just let him go. But man... I’m so sorry you know.”
The hair on Molly’s back raised, her ears flexed and all she wanted was to wipe that stupid smile of his off of his face. But her body was frozen solid. Only her back paws were now fidgeting against the soggy ground.
“Anyways.That’s life for ya Toodles!”
Alone in the waiting room, her thoughts caught up with her. Those were the days indeed. What a team they made! Molly and Miles. Miles and Molly. Not a single day went by without some exquisite find. They could uncover anything. Anything! The pride of the tribe, envied by all the foragers. That is, Miles was. She was just lucky to be his partner and his friend. She was never as good as Miles. He was smart, fast, strong and he could sniff out food from miles away. Always knew the best way to get it too..Despite his seemingly swallow and boisterous personality, he was serious-minded. Always had a plan, the best plan. While she felt she was just along for the ride. And the day she thought she could finally prove herself to Miles by stumbling across this god-damned chunk of peanut butter. What a fool she had been. She still remembered everything. How he pushes her away and fells in the trap instead of her. How she tries to free him. How they can hear the humans approaching. How scared she feels. How Miles calls after her, pleading her to help him. How she leaves him and runs. The next day she goes back for him but the trap is empty. She finds Miles’ dead body in the trash can nearby.
“Mr Ernie says you can pass now, Miss”. The new guys voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She got up and quickly made her way through the damp corridor to the overseer’s office. "No demotion this time. A warning will suffice for now given the circumstances” Mr Ernie told her.
************************************************************************************************************************
To me they seem a bit cringy and I am not sure how to fix it. I know I tell too much instead of showing especially in the first one. And I think they don't flow naturally. I am also not sure if the dialogue is natural and indicative of the characters' personalities.
(Overlook for now any spelling/grammar mistakes. English is not my first language and I didn't have the chance to correct them grammar-wise yet)
Thank you!
2024.05.08 23:21 monkey_sage To kindness (and beyond) in 108 beads — Michael Lobsang Tenpa
 | Article Text: submitted by monkey_sage to Buddhism [link] [comments] Michael Lobsang Tenpa To kindness (and beyond) in 108 beads May 8, 2024 This article was originally written for the Jamyang Buddhist Center in London Very few things in the Dharmic traditions of the Indian subcontinent are as enigmatic as the origins of the number 108. While Shaivism, Vaishnavism, Jainism and Buddhism—along with the modern-day New Age authors—all have their own ideas about the signifance of the figure, no particular way to trace this number to its ultimate historical root seems to exist. Just like the mantric syllable OM itself, it is both mysterious and perennial. While Buddhism in no way claims to be the original source of this intriguing number, it does use it extensively. By the time of the great philosophers Chandrakirti and Shantideva, an important sutra they both quoted from, Descent into Lanka, already contained a chapter in which Bodhisattva Mahamati posed a hundred and eight questions to the Buddha, seeking to clarify such issues as "How is a thought purified?" and "Where do thoughts originate?" The Buddha responds with a hundred and eight statements of his own, quoting the awakened beings of the past as the source for his replies. In the Sūtra of Boundless Life (Tsedo), the Buddha repeatedly references the 108 names of Buddha Āmitāyus, praising the benefits of reciting and praising these names. For the Vajrayāna textual tradition, at least two early Tantric hymns (one of them translated here) listing the hundred and eight names of Tara were preserved in Tibet preserved, both beautiful in their way of praising our ultimate potential as exemplified by the goddess. Similar texts listing one hundred eight names exist for Avalokiteśvara, Khamgarbha, Samantabhadra, Maitreya, and for the Buddha himself. These, of course, mirror hymns of the same genre that exist in the Hindu tradition. On a more institutional side, the monastic university of Vikramashila is said to have had 108 temples: the main one, 54 smaller ones dedicated to the common teachings of the Buddha, and 53 for the practice of the uncommon tantric teachings. In addition to that, the Indian king Dharmapala was providing the means for the 108 panditas of Vikramashila to continue their studies and practice; this is perhaps the earliest recorded case of benefactorship associated specifically with this number. Still a powerful basis for rejoicing! Furthermore, the great master Vasubandhu, author of many quintessential treatises still used by the Tibetan and Chinese traditions, is quoted as creating 108 Dharma centres in Magadha, and the same number of centres in Odivisha (modern-day Orissa). When Buddhism arrived to Tibet, the sacred number became similarly embedded in the religious thinking of the country. Sources related to Padmasambhava's life state that a hundred and eight gifted youngsters were sent to the Indian subcontinent to train in languages and to bring back scriptures for the great translation project initiated by King Trisong Deutsen. When the translated teachings of the Buddha were being compiled into Kangyur (most likely during the period of the new translation schools, or sarma, with the final editions produced by Buton Rinchen Drup), the editors chose to organize the most important texts in 108 volumes. Almost 800 years later later, in the 19th century, the prolific non-sectarian scholar Jamgon Kongrul Lodro Thaye wrote a biography for the most important tertons, or treasure teaching revealers, once again symbolically enumerating them as one hundred and eight; this shows that the number remained highly significant throughout the entire history of the Tibetan literary tradition. 108 beads For people who did not grow up in an environment associated with one of the Dharmic traditions, the first encounter with the number 108 often has more to do with merchandise than anything philosophy- or practice-oriented: most mass-produced malas (prayer beads) used for practice or simply as jewelry have 108 beads. While scrolling through the numerous malas offered on Etsy and similar platforms, one might get to see a huge variety of bead-related creations, many of them beautiful as an ornament—even if not fully usable as a tool for serious Tibetan Buddhist practice. A mala (trengwa in Tibetan) literally means “garland”; in both Sanskrit and Tibetan this term can be used to refer to a string of flowers, to a range of mountains, or to any other garland, metaphorical or literal. However, when the word “mala” itself is used as a borrowed term in modern English, it almost exclusively refers to an Indian-style rosary, commonly used by the practitioners of the Dharmic traditions. The specific way of using a mala is slightly different in the different lineages of spiritual practice. Certain common points exist (such as the number of beads or the respect afforded to the rosary), and yet there are major differences as well, even when it comes to the material that a mala is made of. For example, while rudraksha seeds are used by both Hindus and Buddhist, other materials remain fairly exclusive to a specific tradition: tulsi basil malas are only popular amongst the followers of Vishnu, while the so-called “bodhi seeds” and “lotus seeds” are exclusively used by Buddhist. In many places, like the Pashupatinath complex and the Swayambhu hill in Nepal (where Hindu and Buddhist holy sites overall), an experienced eye would immediately recognise which tradition one belongs to by seeing one’s prayer beads. For Buddhists, malas, as a sequence of beads on a looped string, represent the unending flow of positive qualities. When explaining the significance of the crystal mala held by the four-armed form of Avalokiteśvara,famed translator Tulku Thondup Rinpoche notes that it is held “to symbolise that Buddha’s loving-kindness never ends”. On the Vajrayāna level of teachings, the beads also come to represent the deities of a specific mandala and the syllables of a mantra (or all the mantras one recites). The best way to create, keep and use malas in the Indo-Tibetan tradition is described in great detail in the Vajrayāna sources. A lot of these teachings are said to originate with Padmasambhava (quite appropriate, since one of his most important philosophical works is called A Mala of Views). According to these instructions, the rosary of a serious Vajrayāna practitioner becomes such an indispensable part of one’s life that it is never to be separated from the warmth of one’s body—never to be left behind. Of course, before forming such a bond with a rosary, strengthened by using it again and again on a daily basis, one would typically carefully choose a suitable one and bless it (or have it blessed), turning it into a valuable tool for one’s practice of mind training through mantra and prayer repetition. Parts of a mala Any Buddhist male made in accordance with the traditional instructions would have the following elements: Counting beads. These are the beads actually used for counting; they would always number as a 108 and be of the same material. While souvenir malas would sometimes combine multiple materials in order to look ornamental, that is not common for practice-oriented malas. Thread. While traditional sources recommend a cord woven out of 3, 5 or 9 threads and made by a young girl, most malas in this day and age are made using durable synthetic strings. The cord needs to be long enough for the beads to move around easily, but not so long that one has to struggle to reach the next bead. Head bead / Guru Bead. This is a bead (usually larger in size) that begins and closes the loop. Since it represents the guru, one would not go over this bead while counting; instead, one is supposed to turn the mala around and continue moving in the opposite direction.The string goes through this bead towards the bumpa and the knot. Bumpa. This little piece crowning the head bead often looks like a three-tier stupa, representing the three bodies of a Buddha; because of that, some mala-makers colloquially refer to it as a “stupa”. In some styles of mala making, the head bead and the bumpa are replaced with three guru beads following each other: white (closest to the counting beads), red, and blue (closest to the knot), also representing the three bodies of an enlightened being. Knot. Buddhist malas do not typically use tassels, as those are not durable and do not add any practical value. Instead, the bumpa is followed by a strong knot. These are of two primary types: fixed and adjustable. Having an adjustable knot on one’s mala allows one to adjust the tightness and the distance between the counting beads. However, since it takes some of effort to learn the way to make sliding knots (see a video instruction here), people who string their own malas sometimes go for a simpler fixed version. The following elements are added sometimes, but are not indispensable: Dividers. These three additional beads divide the mala into four equal parts; alternatively, they can be placed at irregular intervals, such as after the first 21 beads, in the very middle of a mala and so on. Often made from another material or from beads of a larger (or smaller) size, these bring up the overall number of beads to 111. Different masters have different views on whether having dividers is good in terms of creating positive interdependence. However, one of the malas used by the late Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, now preserved as a precious relic, includes multiple coral dividers—some even placed right next to the guru bead in a relatively unconventional design! Counters. There are two types of counters. One type (chu dzab) consists of ten small rings on a string, often combined with a vajra or a bell (or another auspicious symbol) at the end. Having completed one mala, one moves a small ring towards the body of the mala itself; when ten rings on one counter have been moved, one moves the first ring (representing one thousand repetitions) on the other counter, and then restarts the process. Some Himalayan practitioners have 6 or more of such counters on their mala, making the whole process a bit tricky to navigate but helping them keep track of the incredible numbers they are accumulating. Another type of counters is made of metal and is only moved around for keep track of larger numbers. These would often be shaped as an auspicious knot, a flower, a Dharma wheel, and so on. End beads. These are usually small decorative beads, often of the same material as the main beads, attached to the end of the mala string after the knot. On occasion, other decorative elements, such as metal flowers or even dzi beads, are added for auspiciousness or ornamentation. Plain malas might not have any of these. Common materials for creating malas Although a mala can be made from anything that can be fashioned into a bead, two distinct principles are often quoted as the basis for making one’s choice: that of general value and that of associated activities. When it comes to the value of malas, Padmasambhava (as quoted by such modern-day masters as Gyatrul Rinpoche and Zurmang Rinpoche) outlines three levels. The most valuable malas, according to him, would be made from such precious materials as gold, silver, diamond and coral—due to their worldly worth, we would also feel very special about them (although walking around with a diamond mala, as Zurmang Rinpoche jokingly points out, might not be the safest option for most of us). Medium-grade rosaries are made from seeds of beneficial plants, and the least valuable rosaries (that are still perfectly good for practice) would be made from wood, clay, stone, or medicinal substances. If one wants to choose a mala based on the activity one seeks to perform through one’s practice, a different logic is applied. Malas made of conch shells, crystal, seeds or most types of wood are appropriate for pacifying practices. Beads made from yellow and gold-coloured materials, along with apricot stones are good for expanding, or enriching. Coral, rubies, carnelian, red agate, mahogany and so on are used for magnetising, and finally, lava stone, rudraksha, bone and steel are meant for wrathful activities. Bone malas, although inexpensive and very easily accessible in Himalayan stores, are said to be exclusively meant for wrathful practices, which would normally already imply a certain level of Vajrayāna mastery already. Certain materials are also mentioned to have the power to multiply the power of one’s mantras; among those, bodhi seeds are praised most highly, with silver, copper, rudraksha, rubies, pearls and some other materials described as having similar, though less strong, properties. In terms of the malas most commonly used by lamas and common practitioners alike, some of the most popular materials for modern-day rosaries include the following. Bodhi seeds. Contrary to a common misconception, these have no connection to the bodhi tree (Ficus religiosa) that the Buddha sat down under prior to attaining enlightenment. The bodhi seeds used for making malas are primarily divided into two big categories: “Indian bodhi” (often sold in Bodhgaya and other places of Buddhist pilgrimage) and “Nepali bodhi”. While Indian bodhi seeds can be inexpensively purchased in India and abroad and are perfectly good for making malas, it appears that most texts praising the benefits of bodhi malas are referring to the Nepali variety (Ziziphus budhensis), originally planted in a specific region of Nepal by Padmasambhava himself. Due to their popularity, the price for these seeds skyrocketed in the recent years and is kept high by the demand in the Chinese market. The smaller the bead, the more expensive it is, to the point where a mala with 8-9mm beads can sometimes cost up 800-1000 US dollars. Some sellers occasionally try to pass a much cheaper type of seed, known in Nepal as raktu, for proper bodhi seeds. While somewhat similar in terms of their look, raktu seeds are extremely cheap (to the point where a whole mala can cost about 1 US dollar) and not very durable; when they dry down, a bead can easily be cracked by applying a little bit of pressure. Raktu malas often have an actual Nepali bodhi seed as the guru bead. Lotus. In the Chinese market, these seeds are also known as “moon and stars”: they can be distinguished by a number of smaller dots (representing stars) and a small hole (representing the moon). In terms of botany, these have no connection to the actual lotus plant (or any other flower resembling lotuses, such as water lily) and are the polished seeds of rattan (Daemonorops jenkinsiana). These seeds are relatively popular in the Kagyu tradition — the Sixteenth Karmapa used to give “moon and stars” malas as gifts on occasion — and are either dyed reddish brown or left white/beige. One should note that these seeds can also be imitated using plastic. Real rattan seeds would gradually get darker through use, while the plastic imitation would retain its original color. Sandalwood. There are two types of sandalwood primarily used for creating malas: the aromatic white sandalwood (Santalum album), known in India as safed chandan, and the non-aromatic red sandalwood (Pterocarpus santalinus), known as rakta chandan or lal chandan. Both are used to make beautiful malas, but it is white sandalwood in particular that is popular for making debate malas commonly used in the Gelug tradition. It is because of this connection that His Holiness the Dalai Lama can often be seen using a white sandalwood rosary. Rudraksha. Although often associated with Shiva worship and the Hindu tradition in general, rudraksha beads of different varieties (and with a different number of “faces”, or sides) are also used in Buddhism, especially in the Nyingma tradition. Some Nyingma lineages even recommend them as the primary material to use for three-year retreats—most likely because the main practices to be performed in such retreats have to do with advanced Vajrayāna techniques. That being said, such malas are not common amongst beginners and are not usually used for peaceful mantras. Stones and minerals. Multiple types of precious, semi-precious and common stones are used for making malas. One should note these stone-based malas typically a bit heavier than malas made from seeds or wood—if the beads are large (8mm and above), the sheer weight of the mala is likely to damage the string much faster than with wood-based malas. If that happens, the mala simply needs to be restrung, ideally (as the teachings state) within 1 day. Being the most common mineral on earth, quartz in particular is often used for making relatively inexpensive malas, including those made from transparent crystal; in India, these rosaries are known as sphatik, also commonly used by Hindu practitioners. Citrine, amethyst, rose quartz and other varieties of the same mineral are frequently used as well, along with lab-dyed and lab-grown quartz of different types. Lab-dyed quartz stones (painted and then heated so that the paint can enter the small cracks) are also frequently passed for other minerals, including peridot and jade. Two mineral-based materials to be careful with—often serving as ornaments in the Tibetan folk culture—are turquoise and coral. With turquoise, one has to be very careful with finding genuine stones, as most modern turquoise malas are made from imitation stones (including dyed howlite and magnesite), since the reserves of genuine unadulterated turquoise in the world are dwindling. Real coral is similarly extremely expensive; one large red bead made from sea coral can cost as much as 1000 US dollars, so if a full “coral” mala is affordable, it is definitely made from other stones or imitation materials. Two more stone-like substances that are popular in the Buddhist world are pearls (available in various colours, including pink and black) and amber. Buddhist monastics in India and Nepal are often seen using amber malas, desirable for their yellow color that is seen as auspicious for Mañjuśrī practice; however, checking whether the amber is real can be a bit tricky unless a mala is purchased with an authenticity certificate from the Baltic countries where most of the amber in this world is still found. A cheaper, younger form of amber known as copal can also sometimes be used, but even that is often imitated using tree resins or simply plastic. At the end of the day, the material of the mala one uses depends on one’s personal inclinations; while some materials are historically praised above others, it also crucial that one’s mala sits comfortably in the hand and brings one joy. Having met many high teachers from the different Buddhist traditions of Tibet—Rinpoches, tulkus, khenpos and geshes—I have seen them use a wide variety of malas, from humble plastic to beautiful natural amber, with almost everything in between. The most common materials have always been Nepali bodhi, rudraksha, and white sandalwood. In his book on mala creation and use, Zurmang Rinpoche also mentions that the following types of malas are to be avoided:
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2024.05.06 20:45 Inevitable_Way_3458 Something touched my husband that makes him pale every time speaking of it
Hi, I wanted to share my husband's story: My husband and I worked for an inventory company that had us inventory home depots and Lowes on the entire West Coast, such as Cali, Arizona, Las Vegas, Washington, and Utah. For context, we would be driving in teams in 3 vans, and our bosses would fly out to the city that we were going to be inventorying another piece to add in our team that contained mine and my husband's was my husband's brother and girlfriend when we got sent to Vegas for the second time we were placed in a hotel that was very sketchy like the kind you see in horror flims my husband and I were walking to our room and we felt as if something/someone was watching us after a while we got ready for bed and I always fall asleep first than my husband as it's kinda complicated for him to fall asleep in new places around 3 am or so my husband wakes me up by hitting my side crying and terrified and screaming now my husband is NEVER phased so for him to be crying and pale caught me off guard he kept saying "it grabbed me !" And " it burns!" I looked at his arm, and there were red marks on him. After 30 minutes, there was a mass message from my boss advising us to pack up because we are leaving Vegas that afternoon which was odd because we usually stay to do two home depots, but we were now only scheduled to do one my husband was still pale and clear as day disturbed later on at work my boss came to our team and asked if we were okay because at 3 am she heard screams turns out she heard my husband screaming... and our other teammates said at 3 am ALL hotel phones were ringing nonstop. My husband had to be cleansed by his mom. A month and a half later, we were in AZ after doing inventory. Our team was driving to the following location, but during that time, we pulled over * my husband's brother was driving * and saw a staircase my husband's brother and girlfriend went up as my husband and I stayed behind to change out of uniform my husband gets a call from his brother and invited us to come up the stairs because at the top there was a rosary with flowers and covered in holy things I didn't want to go, but my husband went mind you my husband and I are NEVER separated even at rest stops but I stayed behind next thing I know my husband's brother and girlfriend come down gagging I asked what was wrong and they said the minute that my husband went up . it went from smelling like flowers to smelling like rotting flesh my husband came down the stairs looking sad and heartbroken as he told me he feels like if that thing that touched him was still with him. We left that job, and one day, we were watching the first Annabelle, and during the part where the demon grabs the mom, my husband went pale and sweaty. I asked if he was okay, and he responded, "That's what grabbed me that night, and it said you're coming with me" I believe in God I pray to God and I see that God and his angels were protecting me those times and I praise God for doing so even my husband who wasn't big on believing in our lord and savior is now more open to my beliefs in God he doesn't seem to feel a dark presence anymore which is a big relief. Thank you for reading my story
submitted by Inevitable_Way_3458 to ParanormalEncounters [link] [comments]
2024.05.06 02:07 Lost_With_Direction 32(M4F) NorCal/Online Sweet, Kind, Hopeless romantic Looking For Friends Maybe Leading To More
Happy Sunday,
Thanks for checking out my post. So, like the title says I'm looking to make a friend that could lead to something romantic, or if it doesn't at least I've made a cool friend.
I'm 32, 6'1, and 195 lbs. I have dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and dimples. I get told I look in the 24-28 age range very often. For the past few months I've been on a path of self/life improvement. I eat super clean, workout 6x a week, work on my mental health often, and try to maintain healthy hobbies.
There are some areas in my life where I might be considered a conundrum. I work as an armed security guard -- gun on my hip and Kevlar under my duty shirt. At work I'm one of the guys. I relay stories about my past; being a bouncer and out on security patrols encountering danger... at home (and in my free time) I hang out with my cats, write poetry and short stories, go hiking, take road trips to the beach, read often (mostly fantasy and general fiction), play the occasional video game, and cook (a lot). I love flowers and gentle things. I wish the world was a gentler place. Sometimes it feels like I lead a double life. Even some of my guy friends don't know how "soft" I am. The closest ones do. Frankly, I got made fun of a lot growing up for being sensitive. I guess I'm pretty selective on which parts of me people get to see. That's why I'm here, I want to find someone to share that softer side with.
Personality wise I'm very kind and try to show it to everyone and everything around me. I'm super affectionate and sweet. I'm gentle but also very protective. Sometimes, I can be a tad insecure -- I'm betting it's already shown in this post. I'm usually lighthearted and will be goofy/silly to get a laugh out of someone. Quite a few people have told me I feel warm and safe and it's my most favorite compliment(s) I've ever received. There's plenty more good and bad that comes with me, but I don't think this is supposed to be a biography, lol. I'm also super big into cuddling and showing my affection. I don't think any of of my friends or former partners would describe me as anything close to cold.
I'm hoping that you are more than anything: kind. Somewhere close to 23-39, fit enough to go places and do things like a 10 mile hike or swim in the ocean (if this is a irl thing), can appreciate a sometimes grim sense of humor, and aren't totally adverse to reading a book, and can find joy in little things.
So, yeah, thanks for reading this, and if you think we'd hit it off as friends or more ( I really am open to both) I hope you message me. I'm happy to share pics if that's important to you/whatever dynamic we find.
submitted by Lost_With_Direction to r4r [link] [comments]
Thanks for checking out my post. So, like the title says I'm looking to make a friend that could lead to something romantic, or if it doesn't at least I've made a cool friend.
I'm 32, 6'1, and 195 lbs. I have dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and dimples. I get told I look in the 24-28 age range very often. For the past few months I've been on a path of self/life improvement. I eat super clean, workout 6x a week, work on my mental health often, and try to maintain healthy hobbies.
There are some areas in my life where I might be considered a conundrum. I work as an armed security guard -- gun on my hip and Kevlar under my duty shirt. At work I'm one of the guys. I relay stories about my past; being a bouncer and out on security patrols encountering danger... at home (and in my free time) I hang out with my cats, write poetry and short stories, go hiking, take road trips to the beach, read often (mostly fantasy and general fiction), play the occasional video game, and cook (a lot). I love flowers and gentle things. I wish the world was a gentler place. Sometimes it feels like I lead a double life. Even some of my guy friends don't know how "soft" I am. The closest ones do. Frankly, I got made fun of a lot growing up for being sensitive. I guess I'm pretty selective on which parts of me people get to see. That's why I'm here, I want to find someone to share that softer side with.
Personality wise I'm very kind and try to show it to everyone and everything around me. I'm super affectionate and sweet. I'm gentle but also very protective. Sometimes, I can be a tad insecure -- I'm betting it's already shown in this post. I'm usually lighthearted and will be goofy/silly to get a laugh out of someone. Quite a few people have told me I feel warm and safe and it's my most favorite compliment(s) I've ever received. There's plenty more good and bad that comes with me, but I don't think this is supposed to be a biography, lol. I'm also super big into cuddling and showing my affection. I don't think any of of my friends or former partners would describe me as anything close to cold.
I'm hoping that you are more than anything: kind. Somewhere close to 23-39, fit enough to go places and do things like a 10 mile hike or swim in the ocean (if this is a irl thing), can appreciate a sometimes grim sense of humor, and aren't totally adverse to reading a book, and can find joy in little things.
So, yeah, thanks for reading this, and if you think we'd hit it off as friends or more ( I really am open to both) I hope you message me. I'm happy to share pics if that's important to you/whatever dynamic we find.
2024.05.02 20:23 picklesupreme Bad Tony’s nominees are here!
Thank you to everyone who submitted names! If you want to just get to it, here is the voting form: https://forms.gle/NVvnGRrrwyXBAND7A
And the nominees are…
Best Fake Accent
Sutton Foster - Sweeney Todd
Daniel Radcliffe - Merrily We Roll Along
Aaron Tveit - Sweeney Todd
Kara Young - Purlie Victorious
Jeremy Jordan - The Great Gatsby
Most Athletic Performance
All The Acrobats - Water For Elephants
Justin Guarini - Once Upon A One More Time
Daniel Radcliffe - Merrily We Roll Along
Sutton Foster - Once Upon A Mattress
Everyone - Illinoise
Best Ensemble
The Outsiders
Here Lies Love
Merrily We Roll Along
Once Upon A One More Time
Hell’s Kitchen
Back to the Future
Water For Elephants
Ensemble Member Who Really Lives by the Motto that there are “No Small Parts”
Amber Ardolino - Back to the Future
Carson Stewart - The Notebook
Max Rackenberg, Rocco Van Auken, Brady Wagner aka all the Frankie Jr.’s - Merrily We Roll Along
Jonathan Christopher - Sweeney Todd
Best Playbill Biography
Hillary Clinton - Suffs
James Monroe Inglehart - Spamalot
Paul Alexander Nolan - Water For Elephants
Nik Walker - Spamalot
Taran Killam - Spamalot
Best Playbill Design
Merrily We Roll Along
Cabaret
Water For Elephants
Here Lies Love
The Notebook
Best Use of Pop Culture References to Connect With the Youth: Combined with the Best/Worst/Corniest Jokes Category, because they both had very similar nominees.
All the Lesbian Jokes - Lempicka
“I’m Done With the Spanish Flu” - The Great Gatsby
The George Santos Reference - Spamalot
The Ozempic Jokes - Spamalot
Lots of Things - The Mean Girls Movie
Best Merch
The Notebook, Specifically the Tissue Boxes
Once Upon A One More Time
Gutenberg!
Suffs
Merrily We Roll Along
Best New or New-Ish Performer
Liam Pearce - How to Dance in Ohio
Ali Louis Bourzgui - The Who’s Tommy
Nichelle Lewis - The Wiz
Hannah Cruz - Suffs
Brody Grant - The Outsiders
Most Highly Critically Acclaimed Play that Only 17 People Actually Paid To See
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding
Uncle Vanya
Days of Wine and Roses
Prayer For the French Republic
Lempicka, starring Mariand Torres
Performer Who Did Not Get To Show Off Enough In Their Role: thank you to u/Comprehensive-Fun47 for suggesting this category and its nominees!
Sierra Boggess - Harmony
Julie Benko - Harmony
Beth Leavel - Lempicka
Steve Carrell - Uncle Vanya
Christina Sajous - The Who’s Tommy
Worst Show to go Into Blind
Days of Wine and Roses
Lempicka
Merrily We Roll Along
The Who’s Tommy
Here Lies Love
Best Official Social Media of a Production: There are so many posts to choose from to best represent each of these shows marketing moves; I just went ahead and chose my favorite post from each nominated show.
Gutenberg!
Lempicka
The Great Gatsby
The Outsiders
How To Dance In Ohio
Best Theatre-Related Social Media
Bryan The Business Analyst
MickeyJoTheatre
Kate Reinking
BroadwaySHO
The Theatr App
Most TikTok Worthy Song
Woman Is - Lempicka
Roaring On - The Great Gatsby
Kiss Me - The Notebook
Best Stage Door Experience
Merrily We Roll Along
Harmony
Sweeney Todd
The Great Gatsby
Lempicka
Worst Stage Door Experience
Gutenberg!
Sweeney Todd
Days of Wine and Roses
The Great Gatsby
Merrily We Roll Along
Role Most Likely To Be Stolen By James Chosen in a Movie: And yes, these all were suggested more than once.
Tamara de Lempicka - Lempicka
Anyone - Spamalot
Bud or Doug - Gutenberg
Jay Gatsby - The Great Gatsby
The Cowardly Lion - The Wiz
Single Best Costume
Aaron Tveit’s Bloody Shirt that Sold For $6k - Sweeney Todd
This Cinderella Dress - Once Upon A One More Time
This Glinda Dress - The Wiz
Emcee’s Dress During “Money” - Cabaret
Rafaela’s Jacket - Lempicka
Single Best Prop
The DeLorean - Back to the Future
The Notebook - The Notebook
Rosie the Elephant - Water For Elephants
The Typewriter - Merrily We Roll Along
The Hats - Gutenberg!
Craziest News Story
Lauren Boebert at Beetlejuice
My Son’s A Queer Postponement/Cancellation
Ethan Slater and Ariana Grande
New Sweeney Todd Casting
Two Great Gatsby Musicals
Best Post on Broadway
Eva Noblezada Last Show Updates! - u/elaerna
Tired of the "what show should I see" posts? Help me build a flow chart we can pin! - u/FlowersBloomUntil
Sweeny Todd is just a guy????????? - u/badwyrm
MEGATHREAD of Spamalot (2023-24) Knights Who Say "Ni!" bits (Alex Brightman, et al.) - u/Thatchos
Gutenberg Guest Roster - u/Apprehensive-Sir1988
Best Producer on Gutenberg!
Lin-Manuel Miranda
Weird Al
Audra McDonald
Idina Menzel
Steve Martin and Martin Short
Worst Snack Allowed in the Theater
Anything with Crinkly Wrapping
Chips
Spaghetti Sauce
Popcorn
Alcohol
Worst Things To Do As An Audience Member
Be On Phones
Talking
Singing Along
Filming
Shame Performers For Not Stage-Dooring
Worst Behaved Audience
Sweeney Todd
Moulin Rouge
An Enemy of the People
Aladdin
Student Matinees in General
Best Bathroom Attendant
Stephen Sondheim Theatre (& Juliet)
Al Hirschfeld Theatre (Moulin Rouge)
August Wilson Theatre (Funny Girl, Cabaret)
Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre (Parade, The Outsiders)
Broadhurst Theatre (A Beautiful Noise)
Single Best Song to Come Out of This Season
Great American Bitch - Suffs
Great Expectations - The Outsiders
Evanesce - Days of Wine and Roses
Woman Is - Lempicka
Here Lies Love - Here Lies Love
Best Play That Did Not Premiere On Broadway
Oh, Mary!
Primary Trust
Jonah
Death, Let Me Do My Show
All The Devils Are Here
Best Musical That Did Not Premiere On Broadway
Dead Outlaw
Operation Mincemeat
Here We Are
Teeth
The Connector
Most Anticipated Show of Next Season
Sunset Boulevard
Romeo + Juliet
Boop!
Gatsby
Our Town
Old Friends
…
That’s all of them! Please let me know if there are any better links I can put in, or if any of the links don’t work.
I know there are some statistics nerds on this subreddit, so if anyone can come up with some wacky statistics related to these nominees, that would be real cool! Or if anyone wants to design the program for this year’s Bad Tony’s, that would also be really cool! Alright, anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
submitted by picklesupreme to Broadway [link] [comments]
And the nominees are…
Best Fake Accent
Sutton Foster - Sweeney Todd
Daniel Radcliffe - Merrily We Roll Along
Aaron Tveit - Sweeney Todd
Kara Young - Purlie Victorious
Jeremy Jordan - The Great Gatsby
Most Athletic Performance
All The Acrobats - Water For Elephants
Justin Guarini - Once Upon A One More Time
Daniel Radcliffe - Merrily We Roll Along
Sutton Foster - Once Upon A Mattress
Everyone - Illinoise
Best Ensemble
The Outsiders
Here Lies Love
Merrily We Roll Along
Once Upon A One More Time
Hell’s Kitchen
Back to the Future
Water For Elephants
Ensemble Member Who Really Lives by the Motto that there are “No Small Parts”
Amber Ardolino - Back to the Future
Carson Stewart - The Notebook
Max Rackenberg, Rocco Van Auken, Brady Wagner aka all the Frankie Jr.’s - Merrily We Roll Along
Jonathan Christopher - Sweeney Todd
Best Playbill Biography
Hillary Clinton - Suffs
James Monroe Inglehart - Spamalot
Paul Alexander Nolan - Water For Elephants
Nik Walker - Spamalot
Taran Killam - Spamalot
Best Playbill Design
Merrily We Roll Along
Cabaret
Water For Elephants
Here Lies Love
The Notebook
Best Use of Pop Culture References to Connect With the Youth: Combined with the Best/Worst/Corniest Jokes Category, because they both had very similar nominees.
All the Lesbian Jokes - Lempicka
“I’m Done With the Spanish Flu” - The Great Gatsby
The George Santos Reference - Spamalot
The Ozempic Jokes - Spamalot
Lots of Things - The Mean Girls Movie
Best Merch
The Notebook, Specifically the Tissue Boxes
Once Upon A One More Time
Gutenberg!
Suffs
Merrily We Roll Along
Best New or New-Ish Performer
Liam Pearce - How to Dance in Ohio
Ali Louis Bourzgui - The Who’s Tommy
Nichelle Lewis - The Wiz
Hannah Cruz - Suffs
Brody Grant - The Outsiders
Most Highly Critically Acclaimed Play that Only 17 People Actually Paid To See
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding
Uncle Vanya
Days of Wine and Roses
Prayer For the French Republic
Lempicka, starring Mariand Torres
Performer Who Did Not Get To Show Off Enough In Their Role: thank you to u/Comprehensive-Fun47 for suggesting this category and its nominees!
Sierra Boggess - Harmony
Julie Benko - Harmony
Beth Leavel - Lempicka
Steve Carrell - Uncle Vanya
Christina Sajous - The Who’s Tommy
Worst Show to go Into Blind
Days of Wine and Roses
Lempicka
Merrily We Roll Along
The Who’s Tommy
Here Lies Love
Best Official Social Media of a Production: There are so many posts to choose from to best represent each of these shows marketing moves; I just went ahead and chose my favorite post from each nominated show.
Gutenberg!
Lempicka
The Great Gatsby
The Outsiders
How To Dance In Ohio
Best Theatre-Related Social Media
Bryan The Business Analyst
MickeyJoTheatre
Kate Reinking
BroadwaySHO
The Theatr App
Most TikTok Worthy Song
Woman Is - Lempicka
Roaring On - The Great Gatsby
Kiss Me - The Notebook
Best Stage Door Experience
Merrily We Roll Along
Harmony
Sweeney Todd
The Great Gatsby
Lempicka
Worst Stage Door Experience
Gutenberg!
Sweeney Todd
Days of Wine and Roses
The Great Gatsby
Merrily We Roll Along
Role Most Likely To Be Stolen By James Chosen in a Movie: And yes, these all were suggested more than once.
Tamara de Lempicka - Lempicka
Anyone - Spamalot
Bud or Doug - Gutenberg
Jay Gatsby - The Great Gatsby
The Cowardly Lion - The Wiz
Single Best Costume
Aaron Tveit’s Bloody Shirt that Sold For $6k - Sweeney Todd
This Cinderella Dress - Once Upon A One More Time
This Glinda Dress - The Wiz
Emcee’s Dress During “Money” - Cabaret
Rafaela’s Jacket - Lempicka
Single Best Prop
The DeLorean - Back to the Future
The Notebook - The Notebook
Rosie the Elephant - Water For Elephants
The Typewriter - Merrily We Roll Along
The Hats - Gutenberg!
Craziest News Story
Lauren Boebert at Beetlejuice
My Son’s A Queer Postponement/Cancellation
Ethan Slater and Ariana Grande
New Sweeney Todd Casting
Two Great Gatsby Musicals
Best Post on Broadway
Eva Noblezada Last Show Updates! - u/elaerna
Tired of the "what show should I see" posts? Help me build a flow chart we can pin! - u/FlowersBloomUntil
Sweeny Todd is just a guy????????? - u/badwyrm
MEGATHREAD of Spamalot (2023-24) Knights Who Say "Ni!" bits (Alex Brightman, et al.) - u/Thatchos
Gutenberg Guest Roster - u/Apprehensive-Sir1988
Best Producer on Gutenberg!
Lin-Manuel Miranda
Weird Al
Audra McDonald
Idina Menzel
Steve Martin and Martin Short
Worst Snack Allowed in the Theater
Anything with Crinkly Wrapping
Chips
Spaghetti Sauce
Popcorn
Alcohol
Worst Things To Do As An Audience Member
Be On Phones
Talking
Singing Along
Filming
Shame Performers For Not Stage-Dooring
Worst Behaved Audience
Sweeney Todd
Moulin Rouge
An Enemy of the People
Aladdin
Student Matinees in General
Best Bathroom Attendant
Stephen Sondheim Theatre (& Juliet)
Al Hirschfeld Theatre (Moulin Rouge)
August Wilson Theatre (Funny Girl, Cabaret)
Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre (Parade, The Outsiders)
Broadhurst Theatre (A Beautiful Noise)
Single Best Song to Come Out of This Season
Great American Bitch - Suffs
Great Expectations - The Outsiders
Evanesce - Days of Wine and Roses
Woman Is - Lempicka
Here Lies Love - Here Lies Love
Best Play That Did Not Premiere On Broadway
Oh, Mary!
Primary Trust
Jonah
Death, Let Me Do My Show
All The Devils Are Here
Best Musical That Did Not Premiere On Broadway
Dead Outlaw
Operation Mincemeat
Here We Are
Teeth
The Connector
Most Anticipated Show of Next Season
Sunset Boulevard
Romeo + Juliet
Boop!
Gatsby
Our Town
Old Friends
…
That’s all of them! Please let me know if there are any better links I can put in, or if any of the links don’t work.
I know there are some statistics nerds on this subreddit, so if anyone can come up with some wacky statistics related to these nominees, that would be real cool! Or if anyone wants to design the program for this year’s Bad Tony’s, that would also be really cool! Alright, anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
2024.05.01 02:35 NamoAmitabha_ Great Master Shandao’s Pure Land Ideology-14
The root potentials are not differentiated. By reciting the Name, a rebirth is confirmed.
‘differentiated’ here means pick and choose. The Buddha does not pick and choose the root potential of living beings. As long as he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha, he will attain a rebirth.
第十章 不擇根機 稱名必生
「擇」是選擇、挑選。對任何根機的眾生不加選擇，只要稱念彌陀名號，必得往生。
The Pure Land which we desire to be born is truly pure and adorned. How about every one of us? After we have learnt the Buddha Dharma, we contemplate ourselves especially and we know that we are the defiled man who is filthy and sinful, who is impure with greed, hatred and delusion. After further thinking, doubts arise in us: I am this defile man of impurities, with heavy karmic hindrances. Are you sure I can attain a rebirth in such a Pure World of Ultimate Bliss? Standing from the angle of a mundane, this doubt is unavoidable.
一、念佛法門廣攝萬機
（一）眾生的疑慮
我們所嚮往的淨土，是那樣清淨莊嚴，而我們每個人自身呢，特別是學佛之後反觀內省，就知道自己污穢、罪垢，貪瞋癡三毒不淨。這樣想一想，難免起疑惑心：像我這樣一個染污不淨、業障深重的眾生，果然能往生那麼清淨的極樂世界嗎？
站在凡夫這一邊，難免有這樣的疑問。
(2) ‘living beings of the ten directions’ refer to the living beings in the nine Dharma realms.
In other Dharma Doors, only the man with superior good roots and sharp wisdom are able to cultivate the path. Those who are with inferior root potential and low mentality are unable to learn the Dharma. Anyhow, some living beings will be left out. But in the Dharma Door of Amitabha recitation, it pervasively brings in living beings of the superior root nature, the mediocre and the inferior ones. None will be left out. It is the Dharma Door for all men. So, it is thus described, ‘The one Dharma which gathers in the myriad potentials.’ The six syllables Name is the one Dharma which can rescue all living beings.
‘The one dharma which gathers in the myriad potentials’ has its evidence derived from the 18th Vow when it is thus stated, ‘living beings of the ten directions.’
（二）「十方眾生」即九法界眾生
其他法門，上根利智能夠修學，下根劣智就學不來，總有眾生遺漏在外。可是念佛法門，上、中、下三根普攝，無一人不能修，無一人不當修，所以是「一法攝萬機」——以六字名號一法，救度一切眾生。
「一法攝萬機」的根本依據，就是第十八願當中的「十方眾生」。
‘living beings of the ten directions’ is an expansive scope. ‘Ten directions’ means it is not limited to our Saha world only. It is inclusive of all the empty space in the ten directions, all the living beings in all the worlds pervade the Dharma realm. ‘Living beings’: Other than the Buddha Dharma Realm, the other nine dharma realms belong to living beings. These living beings include the Bodhisattvas of the Equal Enlightenment and also those in the Avici hell. Everyone is inclusive.
「十方眾生」包括得很廣泛。「十方」，不限於我們娑婆世界，而是十方盡虛空、遍法界一切世界的眾生；「眾生」，除了佛法界，九法界都屬於眾生，上至等覺菩薩，下至阿鼻地獄眾生，通通包括在內。
In the passage on Vows, these words are stated, ‘except for those who have committed the five rebellious acts, who slander the Proper Dharma.’ It seems that the Buddha will not save those who have committed the five rebellious acts, who have slandered the Dharma. But Great Master Shandao has clarified this point based on the Contemplation Sutra, the lowest position of the inferior grade, saying that these are words of preventive measure, giving warning to the living beings so that they will not commit such severe offences. But if they have committed these offences, the Buddha will still save them.
願文裡雖然有「唯除五逆，誹謗正法」八個字，似乎五逆謗法的人不救，但善導大師已經根據《觀經》下品下生說明這是抑止意，警示眾生不要犯此重罪；如果已經犯了，還是要救。
In the Adornment Sutra, another version of the Sutra of Immeasurable Lifespan, it has clearly stated the rescue of living beings in the three evil paths:
Living beings from the realms of hell, hungry ghosts and animals are born in my Land after receiving my Dharma Transformation. They will attain Annutaraksamyaksambodhi very soon.
《無量壽經》異譯本《莊嚴經》明確說明救度三惡道眾生：
地獄、餓鬼、畜生，
皆生我剎，受我法化，
不久悉成阿耨多羅三藐三菩提。
In the ‘Great Amitabha Sutra’ it is thus stated, ‘All the man and devas, the flying insects and wiggling worms, who on hearing my Name are filled with compassion. They are excited and joyful. All of them are able to be born in my Land.
《大阿彌陀經》說：
諸天人民、
蜎飛蠕動之類，（蜎ㄩㄢ；蠕ㄖˊㄨ）
聞我名字，
莫不慈心，歡喜踴躍者，
皆令來生我國。
‘The flying insects, the wiggling worms’ refers to the worms which fly and crawl. These living beings are most stupid and deluded. Throughout hundreds of thousand Kalpas, they are unable to leave transmigration. Dharmakara Bhikshus talks about these living beings and says, ‘They will all be born in my Land.’
「蜎飛蠕動」是指飛蟲和爬蟲。像這樣的眾生，是最極愚癡的，百劫千劫無法出離。而這樣的眾生，法藏比丘說「皆令來生我國」。
2.Great Master Fa Zhao’s verses: Transforming the tiles into gold
(1) Prelude
At the causal ground, that Buddha has brought forth these magnificent vows, ‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ He does not differentiate if you are poor or rich, if you are with low mentality or are very talented. He does not differentiate if you are greatly learned, that you have upheld the pure precepts. He does not differentiate if you have transgressed the precepts and are heavy in sinful roots. As long as you turn over a new leaf to recite lots of Namo Amitabha Buddha, even the broken tiles can be transformed into gold.
This is the Great Master Fa Zhao who has made use of the verses of Great Master Ci Min to explain the meaning of the 18th Vow in the Sutra of Immeasurable Lifespan.
二、法照大師「變瓦成金之偈」
（一）引文
彼佛因中立弘誓，聞名念我總迎來；
不簡貧窮將富貴，不簡下智與高才；
不簡多聞持淨戒，不簡破戒罪根深；
但使迴心多念佛，能令瓦礫變成金。
這是法照大師引用慈愍大師的偈文，解釋《無量壽經》第十八願的含義。
(2) Explanation
（二）釋義
‘At the causal ground, that Buddha has brought forth these magnificent vows’: That Buddha Amitabha Buddha was known as Dharmakara Bhikshu. He has brought forth the expansive and magnificent great Vows. Generally speaking, the magnificent vows refer to the forty-eight Vows. Here, Great Master Fa Zhao has specially pointed out the 18th Vow. ‘Magnificent’ means expansive and limitless, inclusive of all living beings. ‘On my attainment of Buddhahood, if…’ refers to the vows. ‘if they cannot attain a rebirth, I will not certify to Proper Enlightenment.’ ‘If living beings in the ten directions cannot attain a rebirth when they call my Name, I swear that I will not accomplish Buddhahood!’ This is called ‘swearing’. It is known as the ‘taking an oath, making Vows.’ It is a serious matter.
「彼佛因中立弘誓」：彼阿彌陀佛因中叫法藏比丘，建立了弘廣的大願。「弘誓」，總的來講，指四十八願；法照大師在這裡特別指第十八願。「弘」是廣大無邊，任何眾生都包含在內。第十八願：「設我得佛」就是願；「若不生者，不取正覺」——「如果十方眾生稱我名號不得往生，我誓不成佛！」這叫「誓」，合稱「誓願」，非常殷重。
‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ This is a brief explanation of the 18th Vow. The merits and virtues of hearing my Name is inconceivable. Living beings who recite my Name Namo Amitabha Buddha are all welcome by him to his Western World of Ultimate Bliss. No one is left out. ‘surely’ means no one is left out.
「聞名念我總迎來」：這是簡略地解釋第十八願。聽聞我的名號功德不可思議，念我阿彌陀佛的名號的眾生，通通被迎接到西方極樂世界去，沒有一個遺漏在外。「總」是一個不漏。
Below, four verses are used to explain the ‘living beings of the ten directions’ in the 18th Vow.
‘He does not differentiate if you are poor or rich:’ ’differentiate’ means to pick and choose. ‘or’ means whether, either. Dharmakara Bhikshu has brought the vows, ‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ He does not differentiate, choose or pick, saying, ‘This is a poor man. I will not save him. That is a rich man, I will save him.’ This is not the way! There is no differentiation in poverty and wealthiness.’ This is the meaning of ‘he does not differentiate if you are poor or rich’
下面用四句話解釋第十八願的「十方眾生」。
「不簡貧窮將富貴」：「簡」是挑選、揀擇，「將」是又、且。法藏比丘「聞名念我總迎來」的誓願，並不分別、挑選：「這個貧窮的，我不救；那個富貴的，我救」——不是這樣！沒有貧富的差別，這叫「不簡貧窮將富貴」。
‘If you are with low mentality or are very talented’: ‘with low mentality means a man with inferior root potential who is lacking in wisdom, who is not knowledgeable. ‘talented’ refers to a man with great wisdom, who is of superior root and sharp wisdom. According to Dharmakara Bhikshu, he has vowed that, ‘Whether you are with little wisdom or are very talented, if you have heard of my Name and are mindful of me, I will come forth to welcome every one of you.’
「不簡下智與高才」：「下智」，下等根機、智慧低劣、無智無識的人；「高才」，高等智慧、上根利智的人。法藏比丘的誓願，「不管是下智人、高才人，你聞名念我，我通通來迎」。
‘He does not differentiate if you are greatly learned, that you have upheld the pure precepts. He does not differentiate if you have transgressed the precepts and are heavy in sinful root.’：You are well-learned and you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I will come forth to welcome you. You have little learning but you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I also come forth to welcome you. You uphold the pure precepts strictly and recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I will come forth to welcome you. If you have transgressed the precepts, that you are very sinful. But if you recite the Buddha’s Name, I will also come to welcome you. Amitabha Buddha does not choose and pick. He does not differentiate who you are as he bestows his Great Kindness equally to all. This resembles the sun which shines on the good men and it also shines on the evil men. Amitabha Buddha lights of kindness shine forth equally, taking pity on all Amitabha reciters, rescuing all Amitabha reciters. For a wealthy man whose richness is the greatest in the country, if he does not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, he cannot attain a rebirth. For a beggar who does not have any money if he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively, he can arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss.
「不簡多聞持淨戒，不簡破戒罪根深」：你廣學多聞念佛，我來迎；少學寡聞念佛，我也來迎。你嚴持淨戒念佛，我來迎；破戒罪深念佛，我也來迎。阿彌陀佛沒有選擇，沒有分別，平等大慈。如同太陽的光明，照著善人，也照惡人。阿彌陀佛平等慈光憐憫、救度一切念佛人。富翁，富可敵國，不念佛，不能往生；乞丐，不名一文，專修念佛，能到極樂世界。
‘As long as you turn over a new leaf to recite abundant Buddha’s Name,’ ‘As long as’ seems very simple. ‘As long as you act this way’. ‘Turning over a new leaf’ are important words. It means that you have a change of mind. You have turned around from the former thoughts which rely on self-effort. Now, you only rely on Amitabha Buddha. You do not feel inferior, neither do you become arrogant. All the poor men, rich people, men with little wisdom, talented men, men with wide learnings, with little learnings, people who uphold the precepts, who have transgressed the precepts should have a change in mind. ‘To recite lots of Namo Amitabha Buddha’ means to recite exclusively, continually. They enjoy and love to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha.
「但使迴心多念佛」：「但使」，聽起來很簡單，「你只要這樣」；「迴心」這兩個字很重要，迴心轉意，迴轉原來靠自己的心，來靠阿彌陀佛，既沒有下劣想，也不起高慢想。貧窮、富貴，下智、高才，多聞、寡聞，持戒、破戒，都要迴心。「多念佛」就是專念佛，相續念佛，念佛不嫌多。
‘lots’ is a general trend of practice, without limitation. This is because the root potential of living beings is different. Some are busy while others are relaxed. If we set ten thousand as lots of recitation, some might not reach it. While others might feel too little.
「多」，是一個大致的方向，沒有限定。因為眾生根機各有不等，時間各有忙閑，如果定一萬句為多，有人達不到，還有人嫌太少。
So, here is only a general trend in practice. We have to set a demand on oneself. As it is spoken by Great Master Shandao, ‘Setting a demand on yourself to recite diligently throughout the whole life.’ This is known as ‘lots of recitation.’
所以，這裡只是一個大方向，自己要求自己。像善導大師所說的「勵心克己，畢命為期」，這叫「多念佛」。
The poor man might feel this way, ‘I do not have money to accrue merits and virtues. I am afraid I cannot attain a rebirth just by reciting the Buddha’s Name.’ Is this the right way of thinking?’ The answer is no! We must turn around and let Amitabha Buddha decide, ‘I am poor and I cannot afford to give a lot. But I recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. Amitabha Buddha will surely come to welcome me!’ It is unnecessary to spend lots of money. Amitabha recitation is a Dharma Door that a poor man can afford to practise. We do not have to spend money to buy this Name. Talking about this, if we need to buy the six syllables Name, how much money should we spend? So, it is not because of being poor or rich. The poorer the man, the more we need to rescue him, to relieve him. Dharmakara Bhikshu has thus said,
‘In the immeasurable Kalpas, if I do not become a great donor to relieve the poor pervasively, I vow not to accomplish the Equal Enlightenment.’
貧窮的人會覺得「我沒有錢作功德，像我這樣光念佛怕不能往生吧」，這個心對不對呢？這個心不對！要迴轉過來，任憑阿彌陀佛：「我雖然窮，不能大布施，但是，我念阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛必定接引我！」不用花錢，窮人能修得起的法門，就是念佛法門。這句名號不用花錢買。話講回來，這句六字名號，如果花錢買，花多少錢能買得來呢？所以，不在於我們是貧窮還是富貴，甚至越是貧窮的越要救濟。法藏比丘說：
我於無量劫，不為大施主，
普濟諸貧苦，誓不成等覺。
All of us are the poor men who are lacking in wealth, lacking in merits and virtues. We do not have the merits and virtues of Dharma wealth. As long as we can recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, Amitabha Buddha will rescue us to the World of Ultimate Bliss. If we have to rely on building the temples, cultivating the merits and virtues only we can arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, only the rich men are qualified to be born there. This is not the case.
不論在財富上，還是在功德上，我們都是窮人，沒有功德法財。只要念佛，阿彌陀佛就會救度我們到極樂世界去。如果靠建寺院、作功德才可以到極樂世界，那麼，只有富人才有資格了——不是這樣。
Even the rich men must also have a change of mind. As it is said, ‘It is not easy for the rich to practise the path.’ These words are true indeed. When a man is rich, he is high in status and he is honoured by others. It will be difficult for him to learn the Buddha Dharma. One reason is that he is very arrogant, feeling that he is higher than others, that he is very special. Another reason is it is not easy for him to encounter the genuinely Good Knowing Adviser. He might have many friends but they come not because of learning the path. They come for money. Internally, he is arrogant and externally, there is a lack in good affinities. Besides, as he is rich, happy and at ease, he will only fall into enjoyment. This is very difficult for him to cultivate the Path. The rich men feel this way, ‘I have donated lots of money. I have accrued lots of merits and virtues. So, I am qualified for a place in the World of Ultimate Bliss.’ Can this be the proper view? This is improper. He must have a change of mind, ‘Though I have cultivated lots of merits and virtues in the Buddha Door, they are the merits and virtues with leakage. They are incomparable to the merits and virtues of the six-syllables Buddha’s Name.’ So, a rich man must put down the mind to rely on his own effort. He must learn to be humble, to have a change of mind to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha sincerely.
富貴人，也要迴心。「富貴學道難」這句話確實不假。有錢，地位顯貴，難以學佛。一方面是因為他有驕慢心，覺得自己高人一等，比別人優越。另一方面不容易遇到真善知識，雖然有許多朋友，但不是為道而來，而是為錢而來。內存驕慢，外缺善緣，加上富樂自在，耽於享受，這樣學道就很困難。富貴人覺得「我布施了多少錢，作了多大的功德，所以我到極樂世界有分」，這樣的想法正確嗎？不正確。要迴心轉意：「縱然我在佛門裡作了功德，但這還是有為有漏的功德，與六字名號的功德無法相比。」所以，富貴人要把那種自我倚仗的心放下來，謙卑下來，迴心老實念佛。
A man with little wisdom is often enveloped in inferiority. He is thinking, ‘I am so stupid and deluded. I have no wisdom. How am I going to attain a rebirth?’ He must also have a change of mind. The rescue of Amitabha Buddha does not depend on how cultured you are, how many Sutras you have read, whether you are a university lecturer. These are not taking into consideration. Even though you are stupid, deluded, low and inferior, there is no difference for you to attain a rebirth in the Pure Land. People who are simple -minded, deluded, with little wisdom can believe in the Pure Land Dharma Door easily. Great Master Yin Guang has thus said, ‘Two types of people can have faith in the Pure Land Dharma Door easily. They can easily become the honest Amitabha reciters. Who are the two types of people? The first type is the wise men. The second type refers to people who are simple and a lack of wisdom. These are the two extremes: the wisest and stupidest.
下智的人往往心存卑劣：「我這樣愚癡，沒有智慧，怎麼能往生呢？」這樣的心要迴轉。阿彌陀佛的救度，不是看你有多少文化、讀了多少經典、是不是大學教授，不是看這些。雖然愚癡卑劣，往生淨土沒有差別。愚癡少智的人往往比較容易和淨土法門相應。印光大師講：淨土法門，兩種人最相應，最容易成為老實念佛人。哪兩種人呢？一種是上智的人，一種是下愚的人——最上智慧的和最下愚癡的，這兩個極端。
Only the wisest and the stupidest would practise Amitabha recitation persistently.
Once these two types of people are resolute and firm in the exclusive cultivation of Amitabha recitation. No one can change them. Why is this so? The wisest men have widely studied all the teachings and Sutras, penetrating all the Dharma Doors. They know that only the Dharma Door of Amitabha recitation is the best. So, they can be honest in their practice, reciting the Name of the Buddha, relying totally on the Original Vows of Amitabha Buddha without taking a side glance. These wisest men are such like Nagarjuna Bodhisattva, Vasubandhu Bodhisattva, Great Master Tan Luang, Great Master Dao Chuo, Great Master Shandao. Why do those who are stupidest recite Namo Amitabha Buddha honestly? They say, ‘I do not know much. I can only recite Namo Amitabha Buddha!’ Can you still remember the story I have told you previously, the story ‘Do have mercy on me, Amitabha Buddha’?
唯上智與下愚不移。
這兩種人一旦專修念佛了，他的志向堅定，不能改變。為什麼呢？上等智慧的，廣研一切經教，通達一切法門，知道唯有念佛法門最好，所以他能老老實實專念這句名號，仰仗彌陀本願，心無旁騖，像龍樹菩薩、天親菩薩、曇鸞大師、道綽大師、善導大師。下愚的人為什麼可以做老實念佛人呢？「我什麼都不會，我只有念佛！」上次講了「阿彌陀佛你可饒了我」的故事，大家還記得嗎？
There was an elderly lady who had put in lots of effort trying to attain a rebirth. She heard people saying this, ‘If you cannot recite the Sutras, you cannot attain a rebirth.’ She was illiterate. She did not want to trouble others to teach her just in case they might get irritated. So, she asked her daughter, ‘Please check the dictionary for me and tell me how to pronounce this word.’
Her daughter is not a Buddhist. She asked, ‘Mum, you are so old already. Are you taking examination in the Buddhist University?’
‘You do not understand! Just tell me how to pronounce it.’ So, she spent lots of effort learning Amitabha Sutra. Then she learnt a Mantra. It is so hard for her. Later, she had a chance to learn the Pure Land Principles as explained by Great Master Shandao, and understood that whatever kind of potential a person can be, if he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively, he will attain a rebirth. Immediately, she turned to the western direction and hit her head hard on the ground three times, ‘Oh, Amitabha Buddha, you have mercy on me! You have mercy on me!’ For the sake of attaining a rebirth, she copied the Sutra every day, memorized the Sutra, checked the dictionary. It is truly hard for her. She was so afflicted.
有位老太婆，為了往生，費了好大勁。聽說不會誦經不能往生，她又不識字，問人家又怕人家不耐煩，就問她女兒：「幫我查查字典，告訴我這個字怎麼讀。」
她女兒還沒入佛門，說：「媽，你這麼大年紀了，你還要考佛教大學啊？」
「你不懂！你告訴我怎麼念就好了。」她費了好大勁，學了《阿彌陀經》，還學了一個咒，非常辛苦。後來她聽了善導大師闡釋的淨土教理，得知任何根機專修念佛一定往生，她馬上向西方磕了三個響頭：「阿彌陀佛，你可饒了我了！你可饒了我了！」她為了求往生，每天抄啊，背啊，查字典啊，非常艱難，非常苦惱。
Then, there is another lotus friend. What does she study? She is nearly seventy and she is learning the ‘Expansive Treatise of the Sequential Bodhi Path.’ She has already no time to learn all these! What time does she have, with impermanence before her eyes, with the yellow mud nearly covering up her neck? What she should swiftly do is to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha! For the sake of doing her assignment, every night she studies the book and takes notes. The next day, she must answer questions. She said, ‘I wake up at three every morning. At night, I have to study until very late. I was so tired, sweating all over!’ All these happen just because she can read. If she cannot read, she will surely recite Namo Amitabha Buddha honestly, am I right? This happens all because she does not understand the root, the source of the Dharma Door. If she can understand, people with little wisdom can simply recite Namo Amitabha Buddha just like us, in accord with our identity. This is good enough.
還有一位蓮友，學什麼呢？快七十歲了，在學《菩提道次第廣論》。學這些，來不及了！無常就在眼前，你現在黃土都快埋到脖子了，哪來得及啊？要趕緊念佛！結果她為了交作業，每天晚上都要看書，還要做筆記，第二天要回答問題。她說：「三點鐘就要起床，晚上有時要學到半夜，累得渾身是汗，太累了！」就因為她認識幾個字，她要是不認識這幾個字，不就老實念佛了嗎？這都是不瞭解法門的根源。瞭解了，下智的人就以我們的身分老實念佛就好。
In Xuan Cheng, an old lady by the Name Yao Chun Lin attained a rebirth in the Pure Land at 84. She is an illiterate and she is very pious. As her ancestors have faith in the Buddha, she is influenced by the Buddha teaching from a very young age. But she does not understand the Buddha’s principles and she only knows how to pray with incense and bowing. During the Cultural revolution, no one is allowed to believe in the Buddha, no one can make offerings to the Buddha. So, secretly she burnt incense in the hole of the mud stove, to make offerings to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. As the kitchen stove belongs to the Kitchen God, she prayed to the Kitchen God and said, ‘Kitchen God Bodhisattva. I do not have a place to burn incense for Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. Do you mind if I burn the incense at your place?’ It looks as though she is very stupid. Actually, she is very kind, abiding by her position. After the Cultural Revolution, people are free to have their own faith. At the beginning, she was quite worried, that the law of the Government prohibits her faith. So, she still conducts her prayer secretly. After some time, her daughter told her, ‘What era is it now, that you are still hiding your prayers? Now, we are free to believe in the Buddha. Mother should simply make offerings to the Buddha openly.’ Only then did she bring the Bodhisattva out to make offerings. But she still does not know the aim of learning the Buddha Dharma. She only knows she must be kind and accrue virtues, besides helping others. Later, a lotus friend told her, ‘Old lady is so sincere in your prayers. How come you do not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha?’
宣城有位老太太叫姚春林，八十四歲往生淨土。她一個大字不識，人很虔誠，因為祖上信佛，所以從小受過佛教的影響，但是不明佛理，只是燒香拜拜。「文革」時期不准信佛，不准供佛。她就在土灶的鍋洞裡偷偷地點香供觀音菩薩。因為灶上屬於灶王爺的地盤，她就跟灶王爺打招呼說：「灶王菩薩，我沒有地方給觀音菩薩燒香，就借你這個地方燒一燒，你沒有意見吧？」她這個心，好像挺愚鈍，其實很善良，很本分。「文革」之後，信仰自由了，一開始她還有點怕，還怕政策再不讓信佛，還是偷偷的。日子久了，她的女兒說：「這都什麼年代了，你還偷偷摸摸的？現在信佛自由了，你可以放心大膽供佛了。」這樣她才請菩薩來供。但是，她還是不知道學佛的目的，只知道行善積德，為人要善良。後來一位蓮友對她說：「老人家這麼虔誠！你怎麼不知道念佛啊？」
She asked, ‘What Buddha should I recite?’
‘Recite Namo Amitabha Buddha!’
‘Oh! Recite Amitabha Buddha, but I am praying to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva.’
‘Besides making offerings to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, you should recite Amitabha Buddha, to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss.’ Only then that she managed to hear about the World of Ultimate Bliss. At that time, she was already eighty-one -year- old. After another two months only then she began to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha at home, phrase after phrase. Besides, she also got herself a recital device. She still continued to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. But in her heart, there is still some doubts. A lotus friend came to tell me, ‘The elderly lady Yao is a very pious woman. But she is still very worried about her qualification to go to the World of Ultimate Bliss. Besides, she has not met with any left home people her whole life. Now, she is very ill. I think it will not take long. Can Shifu go to see her as she wishes so much to see a Shifu.’ I listened to this and felt that she was a worthy lady. I went to see her. On seeing me, she put her palms together respectfully and we started chatting.
She said, ‘I am afraid that I am not qualified. I am illiterate. I do not know any Sutras either. Do you think Amitabha Buddha want people like me?’
I told her, ‘Yes, Amitabha Buddha wants you! As long as you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, Amitabha Buddha will take all in! He welcomes you to go as you are his precious child!’
On hearing this, she was so happy and said, ‘It is so good! It is so good! It is so good!’ She exclaimed three times. You see, this is having ripe good roots. After hearing my words, she has no doubts at all. She continues to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha whole-heartedly.
她問：「念什麼佛啊？」
「念阿彌陀佛！」
「哦！念阿彌陀佛——我供的是觀音菩薩。」
「供觀音菩薩，你也要念阿彌陀佛，要求生西方極樂世界。」她這才聽說極樂世界。這個時候，她已經八十一歲了。又過了兩個月，她才開始念南無阿彌陀佛，一句一句在家裡念，還請了念佛機。念歸念，她心裡還是有疑惑。一位蓮友就來跟我講：「這位姚老太太，人很虔誠，但是就怕自己不夠格，不能到極樂世界。另外，她一輩子沒有見過出家人，她現在病得很重，估計差不多快要走了。師父是不是去看看她，她很想見見出家人。」我一聽，感覺她很可貴，我就去了。她一看見出家人，就恭敬合掌，然後就跟我聊上了。
她說：「我怕不行啊，我一個字也不認識，什麼經都不會，像我這樣的人，阿彌陀佛要嗎？」
我說：「阿彌陀佛要啊！你只要念佛，阿彌陀佛一個不漏！非常歡迎你去，把你當寶貝！」
她一聽就高興了：「那就好！那就好！那就好！」連講三遍。你看，這就是善根成熟了，講了她就不懷疑，就專心念這句名號。
She was down with the last stage of liver cancer. Liver cancer (Hepatocellular carcinoma) is a very painful disease. But she did not have the pain. She only felt numbness in the area around the liver. When the two daughters came home, she would ask them to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. One day, the two daughters were sitting by her side. The younger daughter recited softly but the eldest daughter was silent. The old lady was not happy, asking her the reason for not reciting. The eldest daughter was shameful when her mother asked her and answered, ‘Mother, I recited in my heart.’
她是肝癌晚期——肝癌是很痛的，但是她身上一點痛苦都沒有，只是肝部有點麻木的感覺。兩個女兒一回來，她就叫她們念佛。一天，兩個女兒在旁邊，小女兒小聲念，大女兒沒張口，老太太就不高興了，問她怎麼不念佛。大女兒被媽媽這一問，不好意思了，說：「媽，我在心裡念。」
‘What do you mean you are reciting with your heart? Why can’t you open your mouth?’ She did not allow her to recite in her mind, asking her to open her mouth to recite.
Her children are mostly very filial. Once they reached home, she would say, ‘Everyone recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. Do not talk other nonsense.’ So, everyone also recited Namo Amitabha Buddha. After sometimes, she was too ill. The lotus friends went over to conduct aided recitation. At that time, the weather was especially hot, around August. The lotus friends recited six syllable words she would recite six syllable words. The lotus friends recited four syllable words she would recite four syllable words, ‘Amitabha, Amitabha… ‘When the recitation was loud, she would be loud too. Sometimes, she even sat up to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, following our recitation. In such a situation, it looked as though she was leading the lotus friends to recite Amitabha Buddha. Though the weather was so hot, lotus friends who joined the aided recitation said instead, ‘This is the only old lady who have made us so energetic in aided recitation!’ No one was talking. Everyone recited Namo Amitabha Buddha for the whole session.
「什麼在心裡念？你為什麼不能開口啊？」她不許她在心裡念，叫她開口念。
她家裡的孩子都挺孝順的。一回到家裡，她就說：「你們都念佛，其他事不要閒扯。」大家都念佛。這樣過了一段時間，說是不行了，蓮友們去助念。那時候天氣特別熱，我記得是八月分。蓮友助念，她隨你怎麼念：你唱六個字，她也唱六個字；你念四個字，她也念四個字，「阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛……」；你要是念大聲，她也念大聲。有時候她還坐起來念佛，跟著我們的聲音。那種情形，簡直就是她在帶蓮友念佛。雖然天那麼熱，助念的蓮友卻說：「這樣的老太婆，我們為她助念，感到就是有勁！」大家一句閒話都沒有，一句佛號念到底。
I was getting ready to go to Nanking the next day. So, I do not have the chance to send her. On that day itself, she passed away early in the morning. Later, I went over to see her and she looked very good. She had passed away in the most supreme way, in the most adorned manner! Her hands and bones were softer than baby just as if she was boneless. Everyone went forth to shake hands with her. After the cremation, there appeared the relic, the relic flowers. After such an experience, her two daughters started to have faith in the Buddha. The whole family including the old and young members, males and females come to a few tens in number take vegetarian food for forty -nine days on her behalf. She is truly a very wonderful lady! This is a lady with low wisdom. She is illiterate but she has attained a rebirth in the Pue Land. So, we can see it does not depend on our cultural level to attain a rebirth.
我當時要準備第二天去南京，就沒有機會送她走。就是那一天，她清早往生了。後來我去看她，她的面色、氣韻非常好，走得非常殊勝，非常莊嚴！手和骨節簡直比嬰兒還柔軟，就好像沒有骨頭一樣，所有的人都跑去跟她握手。火化之後，還得到舍利子、舍利花。有了這個經歷，她的兩個女兒都開始信佛了，家裡的男女老少，大大小小一共幾十口人，都為她吃素四十九天。所以，她也是很了不起的！這就是下智的人、沒有文化的人往生淨土。可見，不是靠我們的文化程度去往生。
There is another interesting story. In Zhejiang, Cixi, there is a Upasika by the surname Yan. Her hometown is Zhejiang Yu Yao. Her neighbour at her hometown is an old lady, by the surname Chen. So, she calls her Chen Po. Chen Po is different from other people. Ever since she was young, Upasika Yan has been seeing Chen Po enjoy Amitabha recitation. She recites on her own, without any guidance. Anyway, who is going to teach her Amitabha recitation? Maybe it is passed down from her ancestors, that she knows there is the Buddha Dharma. But she does not know about the attainment of a rebirth in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She only likes to recite, ‘Amitabha, Amitabha, Amitabha…’throughout the days and nights. One day, Upasika Yan has learnt the Buddha Dharma and she thinks of the old lady in her hometown. She went home to visit her mother. Then she said to Chen Po, ‘A Po, it is good to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha! Do you know about the World of Ultimate Bliss?’
還有一個故事也很生動。在浙江慈溪，有一位姓嚴的居士，老家是浙江余姚。她老家隔壁有一位阿婆，姓陳，她就喊她「陳婆」。這位陳婆跟別人不一樣，嚴居士小的時候就看見陳婆喜歡念佛。她念佛也沒有人教，那時候誰教她念佛呢？她大概 也是祖上帶來的，知道有佛法，但是不知道往生極樂世界，就喜歡念佛，「阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛……」一天到晚念。嚴居士後來學佛了，就想起老家還有這麼一位老太婆，回去探望母親的時候，她就對陳婆講：「阿婆，你念佛好啊！你知道極樂世界嗎？」
Chen Po answered, ‘I do not know.’ Upasika Yan is very expedient in her way. She knows A Po believes that a man will go to hell after his death. So, she asked, ‘Do you know after passing away, we must go to see the King Yama?’ ‘Yes, I know.’
陳婆回答：「我不知道。」
嚴居士比較善巧，她知道阿婆相信人死後有下地獄這回事，就問：「你知道人死了要去閻羅王那裡嗎？」
「那我知道。」
Again, she asked, ‘Are you afraid to go to see the King Yama?’ She answered, ‘That is not good! I do not want to go there.’
She said, ‘The World of Ultimate Bliss is a good place. It is better than the heavens. If you go to the World of Ultimate Bliss, then, you do not have to go to the place of King Yama. Do you want to go?’
‘Yes, of course, I want to go!’
她又問：「去閻羅王那裡怕不怕？」
「那當然不好！不願意。」
她說：「極樂世界是非常好的地方，比天上還好。到了極樂世界就不用到閻羅王那裡去了。你要不要去呀？」
「那好啊，那我當然要去！」
Chen Po is that simple. She knows there is the World of Ultimate Bliss. She does not want to go to the place of King Yama to undergo judgement. With this kind of mind, she recited Namo Amitabha Buddha, Namo Amitabha buddha… from morning till night. This is the first time she has heard about the World of Ultimate Bliss, that by reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha, we can go there.
陳婆就很簡單，知道有一個極樂世界、不要到閻羅王那裡去審判，就懷著這樣的心念佛——南無阿彌陀佛，南無阿彌陀佛……一天到晚念。這是她第一次聽到念佛可以到極樂世界。
Later, Upasika Yan went back to her hometown again and her mother told her, ‘Our neighbour A Po is sick. She is on the bed. Do go and take a look at her!’ Upasika Yan went over to see her and found that she did not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha on the bed. Upasika Yan asked, ‘A Po, you like Amitabha recitation so much. Now, why are you not reciting?’ She asked, ‘Can I recite Namo Amitabha Buddha while lying on the bed?’
後來，嚴居士又回老家一趟，她媽媽說：「隔壁的阿婆病了，躺在床上，你去看看吧！」嚴居士就去看她，見她躺在床上不念佛。嚴居士說：「阿婆，你這麼喜歡念佛，現在怎麼不念佛啊？」
她說：「躺在床上也能念佛嗎？」
Upasika Yan told her, ‘No problem! You are sick now. So, it is inconvenient. Amitabha Buddha does not mind. You can lie on the bed to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha.’
She said, ‘I am worried that I should not recite on the bed. I wanted to recite but I dared not do it. It is so good for you to tell me this. I believe in you. I have seen you growing up before me and I know you will not lie to me.’ Good! She started to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha again.
嚴居士就跟她說：「沒關係！你現在生病不方便，阿彌陀佛不嫌棄，你躺在床上也好念佛的！」
她說：「我就怕不能念佛，我想念還不敢念。你這樣告訴我就好了，我相信你講的話，我從小看著你長大的，知道你不騙人。」好！她又開始念佛。
After the passing by of one more month, Upasika Yan’s mother told her, ‘Our neighbour A Po has already passed away. She has left in such a supremely wonderful way.’
又過了一個多月，嚴居士的媽媽說：「隔壁的阿婆走了，走得非常殊勝。」
No one in the old lady’s home believes in the Buddha. Before she left, she told her daughter the time she would be leaving.’ But her daughter did not believe in her. She said, ‘Mother, you look so good. Where are you going?’ She did not take her words seriously. So, she passed away silently, with no aided recitation. When her daughter came back and found that her mother had already passed away. But her body is still very soft. She was very frightened because she had no faith in the Buddha. She did not know what has happened. She ran to see Upasika Yan’s Mother, her neighbour and said, ‘Do come and see what has happened to my mother. Is she death already or still alive? Why is her body so soft?’ You see, this is a very common old lady who is not cultured, who only recite Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively. She took care of her recitation and she left in such a supremely wonderful way.
老婆婆家裡沒有人信佛，她走的時候提前告訴女兒她什麼時候要走。女兒不相信：「你精神好得很，你往哪裡去啊？」沒當一回事兒。她是一個人悄悄走的，沒有人助念。她女兒跑回來一看，媽媽死了，身上還是軟的，就害怕了，因為不信佛、不瞭解怎麼回事，就跑到隔壁找嚴居士的媽媽：「你看看我媽怎麼回事，是死還是沒死？怎麼身上是稀軟稀軟的？」你看，就這麼一個平常的老太太，沒有文化，專修念佛，守著這句名號，走得非常殊勝。
Great Master Yin Guang said that he had been travelling tens of thousand miles to and fro from the south to the north. He has met with lots of people. In most cases, Amitabha reciters who are honest, simple will pass away peacefully and at ease, even though there is no manifestation of lights or auspicious marks. But those who has penetrated the sects and teachings, who look down on the Pure Land practitioners, who are very well-known often leave the world in a pitiful and chaotic way. At the last moment of life, the well-versed ones, the wise ones suffer a loss in comparison to the uneducated ones, the ones with no wisdom. You may be winning now, but at last you will lose. This is not good.
印光大師講，他走南闖北，往返萬餘里，見過很多人，往往是老實愚癡的念佛人，即使走的時候沒有什麼放光動地的瑞相，但最起碼都走得安詳自在；那些通宗通教、蔑視淨土的人，雖然有很大的名聲，但是走的時候總是呼爹叫娘。到最後，有學問、有智慧的人反而輸給沒有學問、沒有智慧的人。大家不要現在贏過人家，到最後輸給人家，那就不好了。
Of course, if the wise ones are not proud of his wisdom, in the way just as described by Great Master Yin Guang, that he is able to put down his body and mind, that he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha sincerely just like the common old ladies, his wisdom will be much more supreme. This is because not only he can attain a rebirth, he can also propagate the Dharma to benefit living beings. This is much better.
當然，有智慧的人如果不倚恃自己的智慧，像印光大師所說的，也能夠放下身心，老老實實學一般的老太太來念佛，他的智慧就更加殊勝。因為他不僅可以自己往生，還可以弘法利生，那就更好了。
The ones with great learning should have a change of mind. They should not be so proud of their knowledge that they refuse to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. They should think this way, ‘My knowledge and understanding are very limited. Even Manjushri Bodhisattva, Samantabhadra Bodhisattva are also seeking to attain a rebirth in the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, what is more so for a common man like me?’ They should transform the mind of arrogance to seek a rebirth in the World of Ultimate Bliss.
多聞的人，也要迴心，不要認為自己廣學多聞，就可以不念佛。應該說：「我們的智解很有限，文殊菩薩、普賢菩薩都求生極樂淨土，何況我這個庸庸凡夫呢？」迴轉高慢的心，求生極樂世界。
Those who uphold the precepts should also have a change of mind to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss. By doing so, their Brahman conduct will be guaranteed. They are confirmed to attain Buddhahood.
How about those who have transgressed the precepts, who are deep in sinful karmas? Most of them will feel that they are finished, ‘I am finished. I am sure to fall down!’ May be Amitabha Buddha will not rescue people such like me.’ This type of thinking is improper too. They should have a change of mind. With a mind of regrets and repentance they should say, ‘I am heavy in sinful karmas. With a root potential like me, I am sure I will fall down! Only Amitabha Buddha who is Greatly kind and Compassionate can rescue me with this root potential. So, I will have a change of mind to rely totally on Amitabha Buddha. In every thought, I am mindful of the Buddha, reciting His Name to seek a rebirth in the Western Land.’ People such like are confirmed to attain a rebirth too.
持淨戒的人，也要迴心求生西方極樂世界，這樣才能保證梵行清淨，決定成佛。
破戒的、罪業深厚的人呢？一般會覺得「完了，我要墮落了！我這樣的人，阿彌陀佛可能不救。」這樣的心也是不正確的，也要迴心轉意。應該懷著慚愧心和懺悔心：「我罪業深重，以我這樣的根機，肯定要墮落！現在只有阿彌陀佛大慈大悲，能夠救度我這樣的根機。所以，我的心迴轉過來，投靠阿彌陀佛，念念念佛，求生西方。」這樣也決定往生。
During the Song Dynasty, there was a monk by the name Ying Ke. It was recorded in the ‘General records of the Buddha.’ Dharma Master Ying Ke had left the homelife. But he did not abide the Buddha’s precepts and pure rules and had many transgressions.
宋朝有一位出家師父，名叫瑩珂，在《佛祖統紀》裡有記載。瑩珂法師雖然出了家，但是在戒律方面毀犯很多，沒有按照佛法的清規戒律來做。
After some time, he realized his faults, ‘Oh dear! I am in troubles. I continue to drink wine, to eat meat. Besides, I have transgressed many other precepts. I am indeed leaving the homelife in vain. I am very sure I will fall into the evil paths!’ He was very frightened as he had not bothered to learn any Dharma Door. In fact, his mind was not on the Path. Now he had an awakening and he borrowed a book from his Dharma brothers. It is the ‘Biography on attaining a rebirth.’ After he had read the book, he heaved a sigh of relief, ‘I see! By reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha I can attain a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss!’ He immediately had a change of mind and became very diligent in Amitabha recitation. He swore that he would not eat nor drink for seven days, ‘My sins are too severe. It is most frightening to fall into the hell! Since I can go to the West by reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha, I have better go now, reciting the Buddha’s Name now!’ After bringing forth this mind, he closed his doors and recited Namo Amitabha Buddha by himself in the room.
過了一段時間，他良心發現：「麻煩了！像我這樣子，酒肉也沒有斷，其他戒也多有毀犯，我豈不是白白出家一場！豈不是要墮落惡道！」心中就很恐慌。他沒修學過什麼法門，因為沒有道心嘛。現在醒悟了，他就向同住的道友借了一部《往生傳》，看過之後非常感慨：「原來念佛可以往生西方極樂世界！」他一轉變過來，就勇猛念佛，發誓七天不吃不喝：「我造罪太重了，墮落地獄不得了！念佛能到西方，乾脆現在就念著佛去！」發了這樣的心，就把門關起來，一個人在房間裡念佛。
After three days, he had a dream of Amitabha Buddha who came to tell him this, ‘You can still live another ten years. After ten years, I will come again to welcome you. You should be diligent.’
Ying Ke Dharma Master said, ‘Amitabha Buddha! I am this man with inferior root, with no wisdom. I am afraid after such a long time I might lose my Proper mindfulness and start to commit sins of decay. Please help me, Amitabha Buddha who is kind and compassionate. Do bring me along earlier. I do not want to live another ten years.’ This is the genuine mind to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss. This is bringing forth the courageous mind of diligence.
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‘differentiated’ here means pick and choose. The Buddha does not pick and choose the root potential of living beings. As long as he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha, he will attain a rebirth.
第十章 不擇根機 稱名必生
「擇」是選擇、挑選。對任何根機的眾生不加選擇，只要稱念彌陀名號，必得往生。
- The Dharma Door of Amitabha recitation pervasively gathers in the myriad potentials.
The Pure Land which we desire to be born is truly pure and adorned. How about every one of us? After we have learnt the Buddha Dharma, we contemplate ourselves especially and we know that we are the defiled man who is filthy and sinful, who is impure with greed, hatred and delusion. After further thinking, doubts arise in us: I am this defile man of impurities, with heavy karmic hindrances. Are you sure I can attain a rebirth in such a Pure World of Ultimate Bliss? Standing from the angle of a mundane, this doubt is unavoidable.
一、念佛法門廣攝萬機
（一）眾生的疑慮
我們所嚮往的淨土，是那樣清淨莊嚴，而我們每個人自身呢，特別是學佛之後反觀內省，就知道自己污穢、罪垢，貪瞋癡三毒不淨。這樣想一想，難免起疑惑心：像我這樣一個染污不淨、業障深重的眾生，果然能往生那麼清淨的極樂世界嗎？
站在凡夫這一邊，難免有這樣的疑問。
(2) ‘living beings of the ten directions’ refer to the living beings in the nine Dharma realms.
In other Dharma Doors, only the man with superior good roots and sharp wisdom are able to cultivate the path. Those who are with inferior root potential and low mentality are unable to learn the Dharma. Anyhow, some living beings will be left out. But in the Dharma Door of Amitabha recitation, it pervasively brings in living beings of the superior root nature, the mediocre and the inferior ones. None will be left out. It is the Dharma Door for all men. So, it is thus described, ‘The one Dharma which gathers in the myriad potentials.’ The six syllables Name is the one Dharma which can rescue all living beings.
‘The one dharma which gathers in the myriad potentials’ has its evidence derived from the 18th Vow when it is thus stated, ‘living beings of the ten directions.’
（二）「十方眾生」即九法界眾生
其他法門，上根利智能夠修學，下根劣智就學不來，總有眾生遺漏在外。可是念佛法門，上、中、下三根普攝，無一人不能修，無一人不當修，所以是「一法攝萬機」——以六字名號一法，救度一切眾生。
「一法攝萬機」的根本依據，就是第十八願當中的「十方眾生」。
‘living beings of the ten directions’ is an expansive scope. ‘Ten directions’ means it is not limited to our Saha world only. It is inclusive of all the empty space in the ten directions, all the living beings in all the worlds pervade the Dharma realm. ‘Living beings’: Other than the Buddha Dharma Realm, the other nine dharma realms belong to living beings. These living beings include the Bodhisattvas of the Equal Enlightenment and also those in the Avici hell. Everyone is inclusive.
「十方眾生」包括得很廣泛。「十方」，不限於我們娑婆世界，而是十方盡虛空、遍法界一切世界的眾生；「眾生」，除了佛法界，九法界都屬於眾生，上至等覺菩薩，下至阿鼻地獄眾生，通通包括在內。
In the passage on Vows, these words are stated, ‘except for those who have committed the five rebellious acts, who slander the Proper Dharma.’ It seems that the Buddha will not save those who have committed the five rebellious acts, who have slandered the Dharma. But Great Master Shandao has clarified this point based on the Contemplation Sutra, the lowest position of the inferior grade, saying that these are words of preventive measure, giving warning to the living beings so that they will not commit such severe offences. But if they have committed these offences, the Buddha will still save them.
願文裡雖然有「唯除五逆，誹謗正法」八個字，似乎五逆謗法的人不救，但善導大師已經根據《觀經》下品下生說明這是抑止意，警示眾生不要犯此重罪；如果已經犯了，還是要救。
In the Adornment Sutra, another version of the Sutra of Immeasurable Lifespan, it has clearly stated the rescue of living beings in the three evil paths:
Living beings from the realms of hell, hungry ghosts and animals are born in my Land after receiving my Dharma Transformation. They will attain Annutaraksamyaksambodhi very soon.
《無量壽經》異譯本《莊嚴經》明確說明救度三惡道眾生：
地獄、餓鬼、畜生，
皆生我剎，受我法化，
不久悉成阿耨多羅三藐三菩提。
In the ‘Great Amitabha Sutra’ it is thus stated, ‘All the man and devas, the flying insects and wiggling worms, who on hearing my Name are filled with compassion. They are excited and joyful. All of them are able to be born in my Land.
《大阿彌陀經》說：
諸天人民、
蜎飛蠕動之類，（蜎ㄩㄢ；蠕ㄖˊㄨ）
聞我名字，
莫不慈心，歡喜踴躍者，
皆令來生我國。
‘The flying insects, the wiggling worms’ refers to the worms which fly and crawl. These living beings are most stupid and deluded. Throughout hundreds of thousand Kalpas, they are unable to leave transmigration. Dharmakara Bhikshus talks about these living beings and says, ‘They will all be born in my Land.’
「蜎飛蠕動」是指飛蟲和爬蟲。像這樣的眾生，是最極愚癡的，百劫千劫無法出離。而這樣的眾生，法藏比丘說「皆令來生我國」。
2.Great Master Fa Zhao’s verses: Transforming the tiles into gold
(1) Prelude
At the causal ground, that Buddha has brought forth these magnificent vows, ‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ He does not differentiate if you are poor or rich, if you are with low mentality or are very talented. He does not differentiate if you are greatly learned, that you have upheld the pure precepts. He does not differentiate if you have transgressed the precepts and are heavy in sinful roots. As long as you turn over a new leaf to recite lots of Namo Amitabha Buddha, even the broken tiles can be transformed into gold.
This is the Great Master Fa Zhao who has made use of the verses of Great Master Ci Min to explain the meaning of the 18th Vow in the Sutra of Immeasurable Lifespan.
二、法照大師「變瓦成金之偈」
（一）引文
彼佛因中立弘誓，聞名念我總迎來；
不簡貧窮將富貴，不簡下智與高才；
不簡多聞持淨戒，不簡破戒罪根深；
但使迴心多念佛，能令瓦礫變成金。
這是法照大師引用慈愍大師的偈文，解釋《無量壽經》第十八願的含義。
(2) Explanation
（二）釋義
‘At the causal ground, that Buddha has brought forth these magnificent vows’: That Buddha Amitabha Buddha was known as Dharmakara Bhikshu. He has brought forth the expansive and magnificent great Vows. Generally speaking, the magnificent vows refer to the forty-eight Vows. Here, Great Master Fa Zhao has specially pointed out the 18th Vow. ‘Magnificent’ means expansive and limitless, inclusive of all living beings. ‘On my attainment of Buddhahood, if…’ refers to the vows. ‘if they cannot attain a rebirth, I will not certify to Proper Enlightenment.’ ‘If living beings in the ten directions cannot attain a rebirth when they call my Name, I swear that I will not accomplish Buddhahood!’ This is called ‘swearing’. It is known as the ‘taking an oath, making Vows.’ It is a serious matter.
「彼佛因中立弘誓」：彼阿彌陀佛因中叫法藏比丘，建立了弘廣的大願。「弘誓」，總的來講，指四十八願；法照大師在這裡特別指第十八願。「弘」是廣大無邊，任何眾生都包含在內。第十八願：「設我得佛」就是願；「若不生者，不取正覺」——「如果十方眾生稱我名號不得往生，我誓不成佛！」這叫「誓」，合稱「誓願」，非常殷重。
‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ This is a brief explanation of the 18th Vow. The merits and virtues of hearing my Name is inconceivable. Living beings who recite my Name Namo Amitabha Buddha are all welcome by him to his Western World of Ultimate Bliss. No one is left out. ‘surely’ means no one is left out.
「聞名念我總迎來」：這是簡略地解釋第十八願。聽聞我的名號功德不可思議，念我阿彌陀佛的名號的眾生，通通被迎接到西方極樂世界去，沒有一個遺漏在外。「總」是一個不漏。
Below, four verses are used to explain the ‘living beings of the ten directions’ in the 18th Vow.
‘He does not differentiate if you are poor or rich:’ ’differentiate’ means to pick and choose. ‘or’ means whether, either. Dharmakara Bhikshu has brought the vows, ‘I will surely come forth to welcome you if you have heard my Name, if you are calling my Name.’ He does not differentiate, choose or pick, saying, ‘This is a poor man. I will not save him. That is a rich man, I will save him.’ This is not the way! There is no differentiation in poverty and wealthiness.’ This is the meaning of ‘he does not differentiate if you are poor or rich’
下面用四句話解釋第十八願的「十方眾生」。
「不簡貧窮將富貴」：「簡」是挑選、揀擇，「將」是又、且。法藏比丘「聞名念我總迎來」的誓願，並不分別、挑選：「這個貧窮的，我不救；那個富貴的，我救」——不是這樣！沒有貧富的差別，這叫「不簡貧窮將富貴」。
‘If you are with low mentality or are very talented’: ‘with low mentality means a man with inferior root potential who is lacking in wisdom, who is not knowledgeable. ‘talented’ refers to a man with great wisdom, who is of superior root and sharp wisdom. According to Dharmakara Bhikshu, he has vowed that, ‘Whether you are with little wisdom or are very talented, if you have heard of my Name and are mindful of me, I will come forth to welcome every one of you.’
「不簡下智與高才」：「下智」，下等根機、智慧低劣、無智無識的人；「高才」，高等智慧、上根利智的人。法藏比丘的誓願，「不管是下智人、高才人，你聞名念我，我通通來迎」。
‘He does not differentiate if you are greatly learned, that you have upheld the pure precepts. He does not differentiate if you have transgressed the precepts and are heavy in sinful root.’：You are well-learned and you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I will come forth to welcome you. You have little learning but you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I also come forth to welcome you. You uphold the pure precepts strictly and recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, I will come forth to welcome you. If you have transgressed the precepts, that you are very sinful. But if you recite the Buddha’s Name, I will also come to welcome you. Amitabha Buddha does not choose and pick. He does not differentiate who you are as he bestows his Great Kindness equally to all. This resembles the sun which shines on the good men and it also shines on the evil men. Amitabha Buddha lights of kindness shine forth equally, taking pity on all Amitabha reciters, rescuing all Amitabha reciters. For a wealthy man whose richness is the greatest in the country, if he does not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, he cannot attain a rebirth. For a beggar who does not have any money if he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively, he can arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss.
「不簡多聞持淨戒，不簡破戒罪根深」：你廣學多聞念佛，我來迎；少學寡聞念佛，我也來迎。你嚴持淨戒念佛，我來迎；破戒罪深念佛，我也來迎。阿彌陀佛沒有選擇，沒有分別，平等大慈。如同太陽的光明，照著善人，也照惡人。阿彌陀佛平等慈光憐憫、救度一切念佛人。富翁，富可敵國，不念佛，不能往生；乞丐，不名一文，專修念佛，能到極樂世界。
‘As long as you turn over a new leaf to recite abundant Buddha’s Name,’ ‘As long as’ seems very simple. ‘As long as you act this way’. ‘Turning over a new leaf’ are important words. It means that you have a change of mind. You have turned around from the former thoughts which rely on self-effort. Now, you only rely on Amitabha Buddha. You do not feel inferior, neither do you become arrogant. All the poor men, rich people, men with little wisdom, talented men, men with wide learnings, with little learnings, people who uphold the precepts, who have transgressed the precepts should have a change in mind. ‘To recite lots of Namo Amitabha Buddha’ means to recite exclusively, continually. They enjoy and love to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha.
「但使迴心多念佛」：「但使」，聽起來很簡單，「你只要這樣」；「迴心」這兩個字很重要，迴心轉意，迴轉原來靠自己的心，來靠阿彌陀佛，既沒有下劣想，也不起高慢想。貧窮、富貴，下智、高才，多聞、寡聞，持戒、破戒，都要迴心。「多念佛」就是專念佛，相續念佛，念佛不嫌多。
‘lots’ is a general trend of practice, without limitation. This is because the root potential of living beings is different. Some are busy while others are relaxed. If we set ten thousand as lots of recitation, some might not reach it. While others might feel too little.
「多」，是一個大致的方向，沒有限定。因為眾生根機各有不等，時間各有忙閑，如果定一萬句為多，有人達不到，還有人嫌太少。
So, here is only a general trend in practice. We have to set a demand on oneself. As it is spoken by Great Master Shandao, ‘Setting a demand on yourself to recite diligently throughout the whole life.’ This is known as ‘lots of recitation.’
所以，這裡只是一個大方向，自己要求自己。像善導大師所說的「勵心克己，畢命為期」，這叫「多念佛」。
The poor man might feel this way, ‘I do not have money to accrue merits and virtues. I am afraid I cannot attain a rebirth just by reciting the Buddha’s Name.’ Is this the right way of thinking?’ The answer is no! We must turn around and let Amitabha Buddha decide, ‘I am poor and I cannot afford to give a lot. But I recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. Amitabha Buddha will surely come to welcome me!’ It is unnecessary to spend lots of money. Amitabha recitation is a Dharma Door that a poor man can afford to practise. We do not have to spend money to buy this Name. Talking about this, if we need to buy the six syllables Name, how much money should we spend? So, it is not because of being poor or rich. The poorer the man, the more we need to rescue him, to relieve him. Dharmakara Bhikshu has thus said,
‘In the immeasurable Kalpas, if I do not become a great donor to relieve the poor pervasively, I vow not to accomplish the Equal Enlightenment.’
貧窮的人會覺得「我沒有錢作功德，像我這樣光念佛怕不能往生吧」，這個心對不對呢？這個心不對！要迴轉過來，任憑阿彌陀佛：「我雖然窮，不能大布施，但是，我念阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛必定接引我！」不用花錢，窮人能修得起的法門，就是念佛法門。這句名號不用花錢買。話講回來，這句六字名號，如果花錢買，花多少錢能買得來呢？所以，不在於我們是貧窮還是富貴，甚至越是貧窮的越要救濟。法藏比丘說：
我於無量劫，不為大施主，
普濟諸貧苦，誓不成等覺。
All of us are the poor men who are lacking in wealth, lacking in merits and virtues. We do not have the merits and virtues of Dharma wealth. As long as we can recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, Amitabha Buddha will rescue us to the World of Ultimate Bliss. If we have to rely on building the temples, cultivating the merits and virtues only we can arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, only the rich men are qualified to be born there. This is not the case.
不論在財富上，還是在功德上，我們都是窮人，沒有功德法財。只要念佛，阿彌陀佛就會救度我們到極樂世界去。如果靠建寺院、作功德才可以到極樂世界，那麼，只有富人才有資格了——不是這樣。
Even the rich men must also have a change of mind. As it is said, ‘It is not easy for the rich to practise the path.’ These words are true indeed. When a man is rich, he is high in status and he is honoured by others. It will be difficult for him to learn the Buddha Dharma. One reason is that he is very arrogant, feeling that he is higher than others, that he is very special. Another reason is it is not easy for him to encounter the genuinely Good Knowing Adviser. He might have many friends but they come not because of learning the path. They come for money. Internally, he is arrogant and externally, there is a lack in good affinities. Besides, as he is rich, happy and at ease, he will only fall into enjoyment. This is very difficult for him to cultivate the Path. The rich men feel this way, ‘I have donated lots of money. I have accrued lots of merits and virtues. So, I am qualified for a place in the World of Ultimate Bliss.’ Can this be the proper view? This is improper. He must have a change of mind, ‘Though I have cultivated lots of merits and virtues in the Buddha Door, they are the merits and virtues with leakage. They are incomparable to the merits and virtues of the six-syllables Buddha’s Name.’ So, a rich man must put down the mind to rely on his own effort. He must learn to be humble, to have a change of mind to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha sincerely.
富貴人，也要迴心。「富貴學道難」這句話確實不假。有錢，地位顯貴，難以學佛。一方面是因為他有驕慢心，覺得自己高人一等，比別人優越。另一方面不容易遇到真善知識，雖然有許多朋友，但不是為道而來，而是為錢而來。內存驕慢，外缺善緣，加上富樂自在，耽於享受，這樣學道就很困難。富貴人覺得「我布施了多少錢，作了多大的功德，所以我到極樂世界有分」，這樣的想法正確嗎？不正確。要迴心轉意：「縱然我在佛門裡作了功德，但這還是有為有漏的功德，與六字名號的功德無法相比。」所以，富貴人要把那種自我倚仗的心放下來，謙卑下來，迴心老實念佛。
A man with little wisdom is often enveloped in inferiority. He is thinking, ‘I am so stupid and deluded. I have no wisdom. How am I going to attain a rebirth?’ He must also have a change of mind. The rescue of Amitabha Buddha does not depend on how cultured you are, how many Sutras you have read, whether you are a university lecturer. These are not taking into consideration. Even though you are stupid, deluded, low and inferior, there is no difference for you to attain a rebirth in the Pure Land. People who are simple -minded, deluded, with little wisdom can believe in the Pure Land Dharma Door easily. Great Master Yin Guang has thus said, ‘Two types of people can have faith in the Pure Land Dharma Door easily. They can easily become the honest Amitabha reciters. Who are the two types of people? The first type is the wise men. The second type refers to people who are simple and a lack of wisdom. These are the two extremes: the wisest and stupidest.
下智的人往往心存卑劣：「我這樣愚癡，沒有智慧，怎麼能往生呢？」這樣的心要迴轉。阿彌陀佛的救度，不是看你有多少文化、讀了多少經典、是不是大學教授，不是看這些。雖然愚癡卑劣，往生淨土沒有差別。愚癡少智的人往往比較容易和淨土法門相應。印光大師講：淨土法門，兩種人最相應，最容易成為老實念佛人。哪兩種人呢？一種是上智的人，一種是下愚的人——最上智慧的和最下愚癡的，這兩個極端。
Only the wisest and the stupidest would practise Amitabha recitation persistently.
Once these two types of people are resolute and firm in the exclusive cultivation of Amitabha recitation. No one can change them. Why is this so? The wisest men have widely studied all the teachings and Sutras, penetrating all the Dharma Doors. They know that only the Dharma Door of Amitabha recitation is the best. So, they can be honest in their practice, reciting the Name of the Buddha, relying totally on the Original Vows of Amitabha Buddha without taking a side glance. These wisest men are such like Nagarjuna Bodhisattva, Vasubandhu Bodhisattva, Great Master Tan Luang, Great Master Dao Chuo, Great Master Shandao. Why do those who are stupidest recite Namo Amitabha Buddha honestly? They say, ‘I do not know much. I can only recite Namo Amitabha Buddha!’ Can you still remember the story I have told you previously, the story ‘Do have mercy on me, Amitabha Buddha’?
唯上智與下愚不移。
這兩種人一旦專修念佛了，他的志向堅定，不能改變。為什麼呢？上等智慧的，廣研一切經教，通達一切法門，知道唯有念佛法門最好，所以他能老老實實專念這句名號，仰仗彌陀本願，心無旁騖，像龍樹菩薩、天親菩薩、曇鸞大師、道綽大師、善導大師。下愚的人為什麼可以做老實念佛人呢？「我什麼都不會，我只有念佛！」上次講了「阿彌陀佛你可饒了我」的故事，大家還記得嗎？
There was an elderly lady who had put in lots of effort trying to attain a rebirth. She heard people saying this, ‘If you cannot recite the Sutras, you cannot attain a rebirth.’ She was illiterate. She did not want to trouble others to teach her just in case they might get irritated. So, she asked her daughter, ‘Please check the dictionary for me and tell me how to pronounce this word.’
Her daughter is not a Buddhist. She asked, ‘Mum, you are so old already. Are you taking examination in the Buddhist University?’
‘You do not understand! Just tell me how to pronounce it.’ So, she spent lots of effort learning Amitabha Sutra. Then she learnt a Mantra. It is so hard for her. Later, she had a chance to learn the Pure Land Principles as explained by Great Master Shandao, and understood that whatever kind of potential a person can be, if he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively, he will attain a rebirth. Immediately, she turned to the western direction and hit her head hard on the ground three times, ‘Oh, Amitabha Buddha, you have mercy on me! You have mercy on me!’ For the sake of attaining a rebirth, she copied the Sutra every day, memorized the Sutra, checked the dictionary. It is truly hard for her. She was so afflicted.
有位老太婆，為了往生，費了好大勁。聽說不會誦經不能往生，她又不識字，問人家又怕人家不耐煩，就問她女兒：「幫我查查字典，告訴我這個字怎麼讀。」
她女兒還沒入佛門，說：「媽，你這麼大年紀了，你還要考佛教大學啊？」
「你不懂！你告訴我怎麼念就好了。」她費了好大勁，學了《阿彌陀經》，還學了一個咒，非常辛苦。後來她聽了善導大師闡釋的淨土教理，得知任何根機專修念佛一定往生，她馬上向西方磕了三個響頭：「阿彌陀佛，你可饒了我了！你可饒了我了！」她為了求往生，每天抄啊，背啊，查字典啊，非常艱難，非常苦惱。
Then, there is another lotus friend. What does she study? She is nearly seventy and she is learning the ‘Expansive Treatise of the Sequential Bodhi Path.’ She has already no time to learn all these! What time does she have, with impermanence before her eyes, with the yellow mud nearly covering up her neck? What she should swiftly do is to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha! For the sake of doing her assignment, every night she studies the book and takes notes. The next day, she must answer questions. She said, ‘I wake up at three every morning. At night, I have to study until very late. I was so tired, sweating all over!’ All these happen just because she can read. If she cannot read, she will surely recite Namo Amitabha Buddha honestly, am I right? This happens all because she does not understand the root, the source of the Dharma Door. If she can understand, people with little wisdom can simply recite Namo Amitabha Buddha just like us, in accord with our identity. This is good enough.
還有一位蓮友，學什麼呢？快七十歲了，在學《菩提道次第廣論》。學這些，來不及了！無常就在眼前，你現在黃土都快埋到脖子了，哪來得及啊？要趕緊念佛！結果她為了交作業，每天晚上都要看書，還要做筆記，第二天要回答問題。她說：「三點鐘就要起床，晚上有時要學到半夜，累得渾身是汗，太累了！」就因為她認識幾個字，她要是不認識這幾個字，不就老實念佛了嗎？這都是不瞭解法門的根源。瞭解了，下智的人就以我們的身分老實念佛就好。
In Xuan Cheng, an old lady by the Name Yao Chun Lin attained a rebirth in the Pure Land at 84. She is an illiterate and she is very pious. As her ancestors have faith in the Buddha, she is influenced by the Buddha teaching from a very young age. But she does not understand the Buddha’s principles and she only knows how to pray with incense and bowing. During the Cultural revolution, no one is allowed to believe in the Buddha, no one can make offerings to the Buddha. So, secretly she burnt incense in the hole of the mud stove, to make offerings to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. As the kitchen stove belongs to the Kitchen God, she prayed to the Kitchen God and said, ‘Kitchen God Bodhisattva. I do not have a place to burn incense for Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. Do you mind if I burn the incense at your place?’ It looks as though she is very stupid. Actually, she is very kind, abiding by her position. After the Cultural Revolution, people are free to have their own faith. At the beginning, she was quite worried, that the law of the Government prohibits her faith. So, she still conducts her prayer secretly. After some time, her daughter told her, ‘What era is it now, that you are still hiding your prayers? Now, we are free to believe in the Buddha. Mother should simply make offerings to the Buddha openly.’ Only then did she bring the Bodhisattva out to make offerings. But she still does not know the aim of learning the Buddha Dharma. She only knows she must be kind and accrue virtues, besides helping others. Later, a lotus friend told her, ‘Old lady is so sincere in your prayers. How come you do not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha?’
宣城有位老太太叫姚春林，八十四歲往生淨土。她一個大字不識，人很虔誠，因為祖上信佛，所以從小受過佛教的影響，但是不明佛理，只是燒香拜拜。「文革」時期不准信佛，不准供佛。她就在土灶的鍋洞裡偷偷地點香供觀音菩薩。因為灶上屬於灶王爺的地盤，她就跟灶王爺打招呼說：「灶王菩薩，我沒有地方給觀音菩薩燒香，就借你這個地方燒一燒，你沒有意見吧？」她這個心，好像挺愚鈍，其實很善良，很本分。「文革」之後，信仰自由了，一開始她還有點怕，還怕政策再不讓信佛，還是偷偷的。日子久了，她的女兒說：「這都什麼年代了，你還偷偷摸摸的？現在信佛自由了，你可以放心大膽供佛了。」這樣她才請菩薩來供。但是，她還是不知道學佛的目的，只知道行善積德，為人要善良。後來一位蓮友對她說：「老人家這麼虔誠！你怎麼不知道念佛啊？」
She asked, ‘What Buddha should I recite?’
‘Recite Namo Amitabha Buddha!’
‘Oh! Recite Amitabha Buddha, but I am praying to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva.’
‘Besides making offerings to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, you should recite Amitabha Buddha, to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss.’ Only then that she managed to hear about the World of Ultimate Bliss. At that time, she was already eighty-one -year- old. After another two months only then she began to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha at home, phrase after phrase. Besides, she also got herself a recital device. She still continued to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. But in her heart, there is still some doubts. A lotus friend came to tell me, ‘The elderly lady Yao is a very pious woman. But she is still very worried about her qualification to go to the World of Ultimate Bliss. Besides, she has not met with any left home people her whole life. Now, she is very ill. I think it will not take long. Can Shifu go to see her as she wishes so much to see a Shifu.’ I listened to this and felt that she was a worthy lady. I went to see her. On seeing me, she put her palms together respectfully and we started chatting.
She said, ‘I am afraid that I am not qualified. I am illiterate. I do not know any Sutras either. Do you think Amitabha Buddha want people like me?’
I told her, ‘Yes, Amitabha Buddha wants you! As long as you recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, Amitabha Buddha will take all in! He welcomes you to go as you are his precious child!’
On hearing this, she was so happy and said, ‘It is so good! It is so good! It is so good!’ She exclaimed three times. You see, this is having ripe good roots. After hearing my words, she has no doubts at all. She continues to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha whole-heartedly.
她問：「念什麼佛啊？」
「念阿彌陀佛！」
「哦！念阿彌陀佛——我供的是觀音菩薩。」
「供觀音菩薩，你也要念阿彌陀佛，要求生西方極樂世界。」她這才聽說極樂世界。這個時候，她已經八十一歲了。又過了兩個月，她才開始念南無阿彌陀佛，一句一句在家裡念，還請了念佛機。念歸念，她心裡還是有疑惑。一位蓮友就來跟我講：「這位姚老太太，人很虔誠，但是就怕自己不夠格，不能到極樂世界。另外，她一輩子沒有見過出家人，她現在病得很重，估計差不多快要走了。師父是不是去看看她，她很想見見出家人。」我一聽，感覺她很可貴，我就去了。她一看見出家人，就恭敬合掌，然後就跟我聊上了。
她說：「我怕不行啊，我一個字也不認識，什麼經都不會，像我這樣的人，阿彌陀佛要嗎？」
我說：「阿彌陀佛要啊！你只要念佛，阿彌陀佛一個不漏！非常歡迎你去，把你當寶貝！」
她一聽就高興了：「那就好！那就好！那就好！」連講三遍。你看，這就是善根成熟了，講了她就不懷疑，就專心念這句名號。
She was down with the last stage of liver cancer. Liver cancer (Hepatocellular carcinoma) is a very painful disease. But she did not have the pain. She only felt numbness in the area around the liver. When the two daughters came home, she would ask them to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. One day, the two daughters were sitting by her side. The younger daughter recited softly but the eldest daughter was silent. The old lady was not happy, asking her the reason for not reciting. The eldest daughter was shameful when her mother asked her and answered, ‘Mother, I recited in my heart.’
她是肝癌晚期——肝癌是很痛的，但是她身上一點痛苦都沒有，只是肝部有點麻木的感覺。兩個女兒一回來，她就叫她們念佛。一天，兩個女兒在旁邊，小女兒小聲念，大女兒沒張口，老太太就不高興了，問她怎麼不念佛。大女兒被媽媽這一問，不好意思了，說：「媽，我在心裡念。」
‘What do you mean you are reciting with your heart? Why can’t you open your mouth?’ She did not allow her to recite in her mind, asking her to open her mouth to recite.
Her children are mostly very filial. Once they reached home, she would say, ‘Everyone recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. Do not talk other nonsense.’ So, everyone also recited Namo Amitabha Buddha. After sometimes, she was too ill. The lotus friends went over to conduct aided recitation. At that time, the weather was especially hot, around August. The lotus friends recited six syllable words she would recite six syllable words. The lotus friends recited four syllable words she would recite four syllable words, ‘Amitabha, Amitabha… ‘When the recitation was loud, she would be loud too. Sometimes, she even sat up to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, following our recitation. In such a situation, it looked as though she was leading the lotus friends to recite Amitabha Buddha. Though the weather was so hot, lotus friends who joined the aided recitation said instead, ‘This is the only old lady who have made us so energetic in aided recitation!’ No one was talking. Everyone recited Namo Amitabha Buddha for the whole session.
「什麼在心裡念？你為什麼不能開口啊？」她不許她在心裡念，叫她開口念。
她家裡的孩子都挺孝順的。一回到家裡，她就說：「你們都念佛，其他事不要閒扯。」大家都念佛。這樣過了一段時間，說是不行了，蓮友們去助念。那時候天氣特別熱，我記得是八月分。蓮友助念，她隨你怎麼念：你唱六個字，她也唱六個字；你念四個字，她也念四個字，「阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛……」；你要是念大聲，她也念大聲。有時候她還坐起來念佛，跟著我們的聲音。那種情形，簡直就是她在帶蓮友念佛。雖然天那麼熱，助念的蓮友卻說：「這樣的老太婆，我們為她助念，感到就是有勁！」大家一句閒話都沒有，一句佛號念到底。
I was getting ready to go to Nanking the next day. So, I do not have the chance to send her. On that day itself, she passed away early in the morning. Later, I went over to see her and she looked very good. She had passed away in the most supreme way, in the most adorned manner! Her hands and bones were softer than baby just as if she was boneless. Everyone went forth to shake hands with her. After the cremation, there appeared the relic, the relic flowers. After such an experience, her two daughters started to have faith in the Buddha. The whole family including the old and young members, males and females come to a few tens in number take vegetarian food for forty -nine days on her behalf. She is truly a very wonderful lady! This is a lady with low wisdom. She is illiterate but she has attained a rebirth in the Pue Land. So, we can see it does not depend on our cultural level to attain a rebirth.
我當時要準備第二天去南京，就沒有機會送她走。就是那一天，她清早往生了。後來我去看她，她的面色、氣韻非常好，走得非常殊勝，非常莊嚴！手和骨節簡直比嬰兒還柔軟，就好像沒有骨頭一樣，所有的人都跑去跟她握手。火化之後，還得到舍利子、舍利花。有了這個經歷，她的兩個女兒都開始信佛了，家裡的男女老少，大大小小一共幾十口人，都為她吃素四十九天。所以，她也是很了不起的！這就是下智的人、沒有文化的人往生淨土。可見，不是靠我們的文化程度去往生。
There is another interesting story. In Zhejiang, Cixi, there is a Upasika by the surname Yan. Her hometown is Zhejiang Yu Yao. Her neighbour at her hometown is an old lady, by the surname Chen. So, she calls her Chen Po. Chen Po is different from other people. Ever since she was young, Upasika Yan has been seeing Chen Po enjoy Amitabha recitation. She recites on her own, without any guidance. Anyway, who is going to teach her Amitabha recitation? Maybe it is passed down from her ancestors, that she knows there is the Buddha Dharma. But she does not know about the attainment of a rebirth in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She only likes to recite, ‘Amitabha, Amitabha, Amitabha…’throughout the days and nights. One day, Upasika Yan has learnt the Buddha Dharma and she thinks of the old lady in her hometown. She went home to visit her mother. Then she said to Chen Po, ‘A Po, it is good to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha! Do you know about the World of Ultimate Bliss?’
還有一個故事也很生動。在浙江慈溪，有一位姓嚴的居士，老家是浙江余姚。她老家隔壁有一位阿婆，姓陳，她就喊她「陳婆」。這位陳婆跟別人不一樣，嚴居士小的時候就看見陳婆喜歡念佛。她念佛也沒有人教，那時候誰教她念佛呢？她大概 也是祖上帶來的，知道有佛法，但是不知道往生極樂世界，就喜歡念佛，「阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛，阿彌陀佛……」一天到晚念。嚴居士後來學佛了，就想起老家還有這麼一位老太婆，回去探望母親的時候，她就對陳婆講：「阿婆，你念佛好啊！你知道極樂世界嗎？」
Chen Po answered, ‘I do not know.’ Upasika Yan is very expedient in her way. She knows A Po believes that a man will go to hell after his death. So, she asked, ‘Do you know after passing away, we must go to see the King Yama?’ ‘Yes, I know.’
陳婆回答：「我不知道。」
嚴居士比較善巧，她知道阿婆相信人死後有下地獄這回事，就問：「你知道人死了要去閻羅王那裡嗎？」
「那我知道。」
Again, she asked, ‘Are you afraid to go to see the King Yama?’ She answered, ‘That is not good! I do not want to go there.’
She said, ‘The World of Ultimate Bliss is a good place. It is better than the heavens. If you go to the World of Ultimate Bliss, then, you do not have to go to the place of King Yama. Do you want to go?’
‘Yes, of course, I want to go!’
她又問：「去閻羅王那裡怕不怕？」
「那當然不好！不願意。」
她說：「極樂世界是非常好的地方，比天上還好。到了極樂世界就不用到閻羅王那裡去了。你要不要去呀？」
「那好啊，那我當然要去！」
Chen Po is that simple. She knows there is the World of Ultimate Bliss. She does not want to go to the place of King Yama to undergo judgement. With this kind of mind, she recited Namo Amitabha Buddha, Namo Amitabha buddha… from morning till night. This is the first time she has heard about the World of Ultimate Bliss, that by reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha, we can go there.
陳婆就很簡單，知道有一個極樂世界、不要到閻羅王那裡去審判，就懷著這樣的心念佛——南無阿彌陀佛，南無阿彌陀佛……一天到晚念。這是她第一次聽到念佛可以到極樂世界。
Later, Upasika Yan went back to her hometown again and her mother told her, ‘Our neighbour A Po is sick. She is on the bed. Do go and take a look at her!’ Upasika Yan went over to see her and found that she did not recite Namo Amitabha Buddha on the bed. Upasika Yan asked, ‘A Po, you like Amitabha recitation so much. Now, why are you not reciting?’ She asked, ‘Can I recite Namo Amitabha Buddha while lying on the bed?’
後來，嚴居士又回老家一趟，她媽媽說：「隔壁的阿婆病了，躺在床上，你去看看吧！」嚴居士就去看她，見她躺在床上不念佛。嚴居士說：「阿婆，你這麼喜歡念佛，現在怎麼不念佛啊？」
她說：「躺在床上也能念佛嗎？」
Upasika Yan told her, ‘No problem! You are sick now. So, it is inconvenient. Amitabha Buddha does not mind. You can lie on the bed to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha.’
She said, ‘I am worried that I should not recite on the bed. I wanted to recite but I dared not do it. It is so good for you to tell me this. I believe in you. I have seen you growing up before me and I know you will not lie to me.’ Good! She started to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha again.
嚴居士就跟她說：「沒關係！你現在生病不方便，阿彌陀佛不嫌棄，你躺在床上也好念佛的！」
她說：「我就怕不能念佛，我想念還不敢念。你這樣告訴我就好了，我相信你講的話，我從小看著你長大的，知道你不騙人。」好！她又開始念佛。
After the passing by of one more month, Upasika Yan’s mother told her, ‘Our neighbour A Po has already passed away. She has left in such a supremely wonderful way.’
又過了一個多月，嚴居士的媽媽說：「隔壁的阿婆走了，走得非常殊勝。」
No one in the old lady’s home believes in the Buddha. Before she left, she told her daughter the time she would be leaving.’ But her daughter did not believe in her. She said, ‘Mother, you look so good. Where are you going?’ She did not take her words seriously. So, she passed away silently, with no aided recitation. When her daughter came back and found that her mother had already passed away. But her body is still very soft. She was very frightened because she had no faith in the Buddha. She did not know what has happened. She ran to see Upasika Yan’s Mother, her neighbour and said, ‘Do come and see what has happened to my mother. Is she death already or still alive? Why is her body so soft?’ You see, this is a very common old lady who is not cultured, who only recite Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively. She took care of her recitation and she left in such a supremely wonderful way.
老婆婆家裡沒有人信佛，她走的時候提前告訴女兒她什麼時候要走。女兒不相信：「你精神好得很，你往哪裡去啊？」沒當一回事兒。她是一個人悄悄走的，沒有人助念。她女兒跑回來一看，媽媽死了，身上還是軟的，就害怕了，因為不信佛、不瞭解怎麼回事，就跑到隔壁找嚴居士的媽媽：「你看看我媽怎麼回事，是死還是沒死？怎麼身上是稀軟稀軟的？」你看，就這麼一個平常的老太太，沒有文化，專修念佛，守著這句名號，走得非常殊勝。
Great Master Yin Guang said that he had been travelling tens of thousand miles to and fro from the south to the north. He has met with lots of people. In most cases, Amitabha reciters who are honest, simple will pass away peacefully and at ease, even though there is no manifestation of lights or auspicious marks. But those who has penetrated the sects and teachings, who look down on the Pure Land practitioners, who are very well-known often leave the world in a pitiful and chaotic way. At the last moment of life, the well-versed ones, the wise ones suffer a loss in comparison to the uneducated ones, the ones with no wisdom. You may be winning now, but at last you will lose. This is not good.
印光大師講，他走南闖北，往返萬餘里，見過很多人，往往是老實愚癡的念佛人，即使走的時候沒有什麼放光動地的瑞相，但最起碼都走得安詳自在；那些通宗通教、蔑視淨土的人，雖然有很大的名聲，但是走的時候總是呼爹叫娘。到最後，有學問、有智慧的人反而輸給沒有學問、沒有智慧的人。大家不要現在贏過人家，到最後輸給人家，那就不好了。
Of course, if the wise ones are not proud of his wisdom, in the way just as described by Great Master Yin Guang, that he is able to put down his body and mind, that he recites Namo Amitabha Buddha sincerely just like the common old ladies, his wisdom will be much more supreme. This is because not only he can attain a rebirth, he can also propagate the Dharma to benefit living beings. This is much better.
當然，有智慧的人如果不倚恃自己的智慧，像印光大師所說的，也能夠放下身心，老老實實學一般的老太太來念佛，他的智慧就更加殊勝。因為他不僅可以自己往生，還可以弘法利生，那就更好了。
The ones with great learning should have a change of mind. They should not be so proud of their knowledge that they refuse to recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. They should think this way, ‘My knowledge and understanding are very limited. Even Manjushri Bodhisattva, Samantabhadra Bodhisattva are also seeking to attain a rebirth in the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, what is more so for a common man like me?’ They should transform the mind of arrogance to seek a rebirth in the World of Ultimate Bliss.
多聞的人，也要迴心，不要認為自己廣學多聞，就可以不念佛。應該說：「我們的智解很有限，文殊菩薩、普賢菩薩都求生極樂淨土，何況我這個庸庸凡夫呢？」迴轉高慢的心，求生極樂世界。
Those who uphold the precepts should also have a change of mind to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss. By doing so, their Brahman conduct will be guaranteed. They are confirmed to attain Buddhahood.
How about those who have transgressed the precepts, who are deep in sinful karmas? Most of them will feel that they are finished, ‘I am finished. I am sure to fall down!’ May be Amitabha Buddha will not rescue people such like me.’ This type of thinking is improper too. They should have a change of mind. With a mind of regrets and repentance they should say, ‘I am heavy in sinful karmas. With a root potential like me, I am sure I will fall down! Only Amitabha Buddha who is Greatly kind and Compassionate can rescue me with this root potential. So, I will have a change of mind to rely totally on Amitabha Buddha. In every thought, I am mindful of the Buddha, reciting His Name to seek a rebirth in the Western Land.’ People such like are confirmed to attain a rebirth too.
持淨戒的人，也要迴心求生西方極樂世界，這樣才能保證梵行清淨，決定成佛。
破戒的、罪業深厚的人呢？一般會覺得「完了，我要墮落了！我這樣的人，阿彌陀佛可能不救。」這樣的心也是不正確的，也要迴心轉意。應該懷著慚愧心和懺悔心：「我罪業深重，以我這樣的根機，肯定要墮落！現在只有阿彌陀佛大慈大悲，能夠救度我這樣的根機。所以，我的心迴轉過來，投靠阿彌陀佛，念念念佛，求生西方。」這樣也決定往生。
During the Song Dynasty, there was a monk by the name Ying Ke. It was recorded in the ‘General records of the Buddha.’ Dharma Master Ying Ke had left the homelife. But he did not abide the Buddha’s precepts and pure rules and had many transgressions.
宋朝有一位出家師父，名叫瑩珂，在《佛祖統紀》裡有記載。瑩珂法師雖然出了家，但是在戒律方面毀犯很多，沒有按照佛法的清規戒律來做。
After some time, he realized his faults, ‘Oh dear! I am in troubles. I continue to drink wine, to eat meat. Besides, I have transgressed many other precepts. I am indeed leaving the homelife in vain. I am very sure I will fall into the evil paths!’ He was very frightened as he had not bothered to learn any Dharma Door. In fact, his mind was not on the Path. Now he had an awakening and he borrowed a book from his Dharma brothers. It is the ‘Biography on attaining a rebirth.’ After he had read the book, he heaved a sigh of relief, ‘I see! By reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha I can attain a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss!’ He immediately had a change of mind and became very diligent in Amitabha recitation. He swore that he would not eat nor drink for seven days, ‘My sins are too severe. It is most frightening to fall into the hell! Since I can go to the West by reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha, I have better go now, reciting the Buddha’s Name now!’ After bringing forth this mind, he closed his doors and recited Namo Amitabha Buddha by himself in the room.
過了一段時間，他良心發現：「麻煩了！像我這樣子，酒肉也沒有斷，其他戒也多有毀犯，我豈不是白白出家一場！豈不是要墮落惡道！」心中就很恐慌。他沒修學過什麼法門，因為沒有道心嘛。現在醒悟了，他就向同住的道友借了一部《往生傳》，看過之後非常感慨：「原來念佛可以往生西方極樂世界！」他一轉變過來，就勇猛念佛，發誓七天不吃不喝：「我造罪太重了，墮落地獄不得了！念佛能到西方，乾脆現在就念著佛去！」發了這樣的心，就把門關起來，一個人在房間裡念佛。
After three days, he had a dream of Amitabha Buddha who came to tell him this, ‘You can still live another ten years. After ten years, I will come again to welcome you. You should be diligent.’
Ying Ke Dharma Master said, ‘Amitabha Buddha! I am this man with inferior root, with no wisdom. I am afraid after such a long time I might lose my Proper mindfulness and start to commit sins of decay. Please help me, Amitabha Buddha who is kind and compassionate. Do bring me along earlier. I do not want to live another ten years.’ This is the genuine mind to seek a rebirth in the Western World of Ultimate Bliss. This is bringing forth the courageous mind of diligence.
2024.05.01 01:39 Professional-Tour792 What books would u recommend me by my wish list
-Just mercy -Bryan Stevenson -No longer human -Dazai Osamu (I’ve read I love it sm) -Ikigai -Hector Garcia -Crime and punishment -Fyodor Dostoevsky -The life of a stupid man -Akutagawa Ryūnosuke -Regarding the pain of others -Susan Sontag -The setting sun -Dazai Osamu -Rashōmon -Akutagawa Ryūnosuke -The Flowers of Buffoonery -Dazai Osamu -Naomi -Junichiro Tanizaki -The box man -Kōbō Abe -Medicine Walk -Richard Wagamese - Nothing But Blackened Teeth-Cassandra Khaw -School Girl -Dazai Osamu -Poems of Chūya Nakahara -Chūya Nakahara -Heaven -Meiko Kawakami -In Praise Of Shadows -Junichiro Tanizaki -Scarlet Memorial -Zheng Yi -Some Of Your Blood -Theodore Sturgeon -House Of Leaves -Mark Z. Danielewski -The yellow wallpaper -Charlotte Perkins Gilman -Slip -Marika McCoola -The silence of the lambs -Thomas Harris
I really like literacy fiction, biography/autobiography, poetry, psychology, gore, traditional literature, history, crime, Japanese folklore and ghosts(yokai, myths)
submitted by Professional-Tour792 to booksuggestions [link] [comments]
I really like literacy fiction, biography/autobiography, poetry, psychology, gore, traditional literature, history, crime, Japanese folklore and ghosts(yokai, myths)
2024.05.01 01:11 AdSecure8959 Is it possible to be a Christian and still enjoy new-age, spiritual things?
Hi! I grew up in the Bible Belt, went to church twice a week from birth until I moved out of my parents’ house at 22. When I moved out, I lost the desire to go to Church and I stopped. Honestly, I had lost it long before then but I still went to church just to appease my parents. I never truly “enjoyed” church. I found it incredibly boring and I basically tuned out every service. It was impossible to pay attention to. I also started having some questions about the entire religion. I did a lot of research and found a lot of contradictions in the Bible and found out so many that are huge hypocrites and the most judgmental people on the planet were the ones in the front row pew every Sunday. I became very bitter about that and just kind of lost respect for religion as a whole. It got worse when my younger sister came out as gay and my grandparents stopped talking to her. Then they found out I was living with my boyfriend (without being married) and they pretty much stopped talking to me too. I just had a bad experience and it left me a little resentful.
I never wanted to stop believing in God though. I hope with everything in me that there is a Heaven and life beyond this. I believe God works things out for those who worship him. My boyfriend recently found a church he really likes and is becoming a member of. I started going with him as well, and while I still find it sort of boring and tend to zone out, I’m better than I used to be. I try to pray when I can or listen to a short sermon otw to work or something sometimes. Anything I can to be a better Christian.
My concern is for the past few years, I have been utterly fascinated with new age, “witchy” things. I find astrology super interesting, and also pretty accurate a lot of times. I find crystals interesting; I have purchased a few and while I don’t necessarily believe that they’re a “cure all”, if I want to be more confident and wearing carnelian around my neck helps me achieve that, is that really hurting anyone or going against a religion? I understand not practicing magic or anything because God’s will should come first. But if I want to burn a little incense to help unwind/meditate, wear a few magic rocks, or plant a few herbs/flowers around my house for protection/good luck, am I going to hell? As long as there’s a line somewhere is the main thing, right? I’m just worried I’m a failure and God hates me for liking the things I like, I feel like a good Christian shouldn’t like these things, but here I am. I’ve always liked the aesthetic of moons, stars, and black cats. I like visiting cities like New Orleans, Salem, and Savannah, and learning about their paranormal history. I like reading biographies about Marie Laveau and Stevie Nicks. It all makes me so happy and I find it more interesting than anything in the Bible I’ve ever read and I feel awful about it. Can the two really be that different? Can they be so different that they’re not even relevant to each other at all? I’m just seeking some perspective/clarity is all! Thanks!
submitted by AdSecure8959 to OpenChristian [link] [comments]
I never wanted to stop believing in God though. I hope with everything in me that there is a Heaven and life beyond this. I believe God works things out for those who worship him. My boyfriend recently found a church he really likes and is becoming a member of. I started going with him as well, and while I still find it sort of boring and tend to zone out, I’m better than I used to be. I try to pray when I can or listen to a short sermon otw to work or something sometimes. Anything I can to be a better Christian.
My concern is for the past few years, I have been utterly fascinated with new age, “witchy” things. I find astrology super interesting, and also pretty accurate a lot of times. I find crystals interesting; I have purchased a few and while I don’t necessarily believe that they’re a “cure all”, if I want to be more confident and wearing carnelian around my neck helps me achieve that, is that really hurting anyone or going against a religion? I understand not practicing magic or anything because God’s will should come first. But if I want to burn a little incense to help unwind/meditate, wear a few magic rocks, or plant a few herbs/flowers around my house for protection/good luck, am I going to hell? As long as there’s a line somewhere is the main thing, right? I’m just worried I’m a failure and God hates me for liking the things I like, I feel like a good Christian shouldn’t like these things, but here I am. I’ve always liked the aesthetic of moons, stars, and black cats. I like visiting cities like New Orleans, Salem, and Savannah, and learning about their paranormal history. I like reading biographies about Marie Laveau and Stevie Nicks. It all makes me so happy and I find it more interesting than anything in the Bible I’ve ever read and I feel awful about it. Can the two really be that different? Can they be so different that they’re not even relevant to each other at all? I’m just seeking some perspective/clarity is all! Thanks!
2024.04.29 13:51 DistributionGold8540 The Master and Margarita
I listened to the audiobook about two months ago and I still find myself going back through certain chapters. I’ve bought both the Peever & the Michael Glenny translations and will be properly reading it soon, I just wanted to share the topic and was hoping for a discussion.
The characters within it were so fascinating to me.
From Woland coming to Moscow and completely reeking havoc to the town, sending the poet Homeless to the mental asylum and somehow getting Berlioz killed. The dark magic show which led to complete chaos, too. The humor between Woland and his entourage was really something.
The depiction of Jesus of Nazareth worked as an odd parody to the biblical accounts. Matthew Levi being horrible at notating what Jesus preached (intentional as some sort of a sick joke? He does attempt to put Jesus out of his misery but fails), and Judas not being a disciple, and not even committing suicide out of guilt, but rather, falling for an obvious trap of lust through Niza. Pilate being depicted as being remorseful and completely obsessed with Jesus after his judgement, dreaming of the moonlight and having one last conversation with Jesus (which gets paid off by the end). I honestly can't say enough things about that plot line.
The Master and Margarita themselves aren't really introduced until about halfway or 2/3 of the way through the book. Both being disloyal to their partners but falling for one another quickly, almost as a fever dream sequence with the flowers. The book that the Master wrote, almost feels like it was fed to him by the devil in one way or another, however, Woland is completely surprised when Margarita tells him that the Master wrote a biography about Pontius Pilate, so maybe not. The sense of pure love that is taken over both of them almost feels like a childrens book, they love and care for one another, so much so that even as he completely disappears, she does everything in her power to get him back, including a deal with the devil (Faust).
The way this book ends is simply a thing of beauty, somehow, these three plots all become interwoven by the end, Pilate gets what he wants, the Master and Margarita get their happy ending through Jesus and Woland, and the town of idiot and non-believers either perishes or continues on as usual (not sure since it gets skipped over pretty fast).
Tell me what you guys thought about the book. I absolutely loved the depth of it.
submitted by DistributionGold8540 to literature [link] [comments]
The characters within it were so fascinating to me.
From Woland coming to Moscow and completely reeking havoc to the town, sending the poet Homeless to the mental asylum and somehow getting Berlioz killed. The dark magic show which led to complete chaos, too. The humor between Woland and his entourage was really something.
The depiction of Jesus of Nazareth worked as an odd parody to the biblical accounts. Matthew Levi being horrible at notating what Jesus preached (intentional as some sort of a sick joke? He does attempt to put Jesus out of his misery but fails), and Judas not being a disciple, and not even committing suicide out of guilt, but rather, falling for an obvious trap of lust through Niza. Pilate being depicted as being remorseful and completely obsessed with Jesus after his judgement, dreaming of the moonlight and having one last conversation with Jesus (which gets paid off by the end). I honestly can't say enough things about that plot line.
The Master and Margarita themselves aren't really introduced until about halfway or 2/3 of the way through the book. Both being disloyal to their partners but falling for one another quickly, almost as a fever dream sequence with the flowers. The book that the Master wrote, almost feels like it was fed to him by the devil in one way or another, however, Woland is completely surprised when Margarita tells him that the Master wrote a biography about Pontius Pilate, so maybe not. The sense of pure love that is taken over both of them almost feels like a childrens book, they love and care for one another, so much so that even as he completely disappears, she does everything in her power to get him back, including a deal with the devil (Faust).
The way this book ends is simply a thing of beauty, somehow, these three plots all become interwoven by the end, Pilate gets what he wants, the Master and Margarita get their happy ending through Jesus and Woland, and the town of idiot and non-believers either perishes or continues on as usual (not sure since it gets skipped over pretty fast).
Tell me what you guys thought about the book. I absolutely loved the depth of it.
2024.04.29 04:21 TankMan-2223 Art is the Expression of Our Struggle - The second Triconart bulletin (April 28, 2024).
 | https://thetricontinental.org/triconart-bulletin-april-2024/ submitted by TankMan-2223 to MarxistCulture [link] [comments] In our April 2024 TriconArt Bulletin, we explore how art becomes a collective expression of resistance in Palestine, and over the 40-year existence of the MST in Brazil.https://preview.redd.it/owi87avzvbxc1.png?width=950&format=png&auto=webp&s=d56078b39af04177091ccaec1ef216c89db04a05 Creating as a Collective Subject Forty years ago, out of the embers of a twenty-one-year military dictatorship and following the legacy of peasant leagues and revolutionary Christian movements of Brazil, the Landless Rural Workers’ Movement (MST) was born. Over forty years of the struggle for land, agrarian reform, and social transformation, the MST has grown into one of the world’s largest social movements, with 450,000 families living in hard won settlements. Beyond securing victories for the Brazilian working class, the MST has carried the banner of internationalism and helped to build international platforms, that include our own institute, and processes for people’s broader struggles. To commemorate this anniversary, in collaboration with the MST, ALBA Movements, and the International Peoples’ Assembly, we launched an open call for artwork. The call was inspired by four themes: the MST and solidarity among peoples, forty years of struggle and resistance, we cultivate the land and the land cultivates us, and forty years of liberating the land and the peasantry. We received over 140 artworks from artists across generations, aging from nineteen to seventy-four years. On 23 April, 40 years of the MST was launched as an online exhibition. Meanwhile, forty artworks – one for each year of MST’s existence – will be curated into an exhibition at the movement’s seventh national congress, which will gather 20,000 people in Brasília this July. Artwork by Tarcísio Leopoldo and Vanessa Dias Diniz. Seven of these artworks are also featured in our latest dossier, The Political Organisation of Brazil’s Landless Workers’ Movement (MST), launched for the International Day of Peasant Struggle on 17 April. On this day, we remember the bloody massacre of nineteen MST members by the military police in Eldorado dos Carajás in 1996. For this bulletin, we spoke with Tarcísio Leopoldo and Vanessa Dias Diniz, members of the MST Culture Collective’s Cândido Portinari Visual Arts Brigade who created the cover art for the dossier. The collectively produced artwork brings together many visual elements that symbolise forty years of struggle: A large sunflower on the left, and farming and drawing tools on the right, cradle the MST’s flag at the centre like an embrace. The lines of the open book flow into rows of planted crops. There are wooden houses typical of the movement’s encampments, where children learn in ‘itinerant schools’ constructed wherever the MST is mobilised. In the foreground, peasants are farming and children are playing, running towards a future that lies beyond the page. These symbols are not just representations of a struggle, but effective mobilising tools to build personal identification and to massify the struggle. ‘Art’, Tarcísio told us, ‘is the expression of our struggle, and we, as militant-artists or artist-militants, constantly question whether our art and our symbols adequately express our political project’. For him, it would be inconceivable for cadres of a political organisation not to represent the symbols of daily struggles and the processes of mass organisation, solidarity, and internationalism in their creativity. Likewise, this process could never be an individual endeavour. ‘We, as militantes of a social movement, always see ourselves as a collective subject; even in individual works, it carries significant weight — it is not just an isolated, individual matter. Rather, [the artwork] already brings with it the accumulation of collective debate, the historical process, the struggle, and possesses this character’. For this artwork, Vanessa sketched the first draft digitally, which Tarcísio finalised using watercolours, all the while maintaining a collective dialogue. To draw inspiration from a collective political process and return the fruits of that creative labour is one of the most revolutionary things that an artist can do. It defies the capitalist logic of individualism and the commodification of art and culture, and it helps rebuild collective life. Our exhibition and dossier were launched during Red April, a month when the MST organises actions across the country, from marches and occupations to political education and solidarity activities, under the banner ‘Occupy to feed Brazil’. Prison Has a Smell Like the Smell of Death On 7 April 2024, Walid Daqqah, revolutionary writer, thinker, and one of the most enduring Palestinian prisoners of the Israeli occupation died of cancer and medical negligence at the age of sixty-three. Last year, when his thirty-seven-year prison term expired, he continued to be imprisoned, an act that we, at Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research, and over forty publishers in the International Union of Left Publishers condemned. Daqqah had forebodingly said, ‘Prison has a smell like the smell of death, and death has the smell of death and nothing else’. Daqqah’s voice continues to be carried through his novels, essays, and letters that have inspired the international solidarity movement with the Palestinian people, thousands of whom continue to be locked in Israeli jails. A beautiful stop-motion animation based on Daqqah’s life was made by women and girls of the Union of Palestinian Women’s Committees in collaboration with the Animation Factory. You can watch it here. To honour the life of Walid Daqqah and Palestinian Prisoners’ Day on 17 April, our art collective made this portrait, drawn by Dani Ruggeri. https://preview.redd.it/firtuoq5wbxc1.jpg?width=950&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=509860bfae6d0109d6412131f5abec160ffe9d2d Like the MST in the struggle for agrarian reform, the fight for Palestinian liberation has consolidated over the past eight decades around its own powerful symbols. The poppy flower. The sling. The flag. The key. The keffiyeh. The orange. The watermelon. The thob. The olive tree. V for victory. Each of these symbols are an expression of the Palestinian struggle for liberation and return. Learn about their meanings in an interactive infographic by our friends at Utopix, with artwork by Kael Abello, who is also a member of Tricontinental’s art collective. We Broke the Blockade, Even If Only in the Cultural Order Valentina Aguirre (Venezuela), Haydée habla del Moncada, 2024. This month’s Red Books Day poster remembers the Cuban revolutionary Haydée Santamaría, whose life and work were documented in the book, Haydée habla del Moncada (‘Haydée Speaks of Moncada’). The poster was created by Valentina Aguirre, Venezuelan illustrator, ceramist, and member of the Utopix community. Known by her friends and comrades as Yeyé, Haydée was one of the guerrilla fighters in the Moncada attacks on 26 July 1953 from which the revolutionary movement got its name. She was a founding member of the Communist Party of Cuba and headed the historical cultural institution Casa de las Américas (‘Home of the Americas’). This space of literary and artistic exchange has been essential to break the cultural isolation imposed by the US empire on the Cuban Revolution. In Haydée’s words, ‘I could not accept that because… our people would not know who our indigenous ancestors were, who the writers and artists were… And we broke the blockade, even if only in the cultural order’. You can read more about the culture of internationalism in the Cuban Revolution in our dossier no. 15, The Art of the Revolution will be Internationalist. In Other News… https://preview.redd.it/kelfqarbwbxc1.jpg?width=950&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2622966e103766fe3ce6f60745ff6e9408e95eaf Our Tricontinental team has had a hand in some upcoming or newly published books. Ingrid Neves designed the new cover for The Revolutionary Thoughts of Kwame Nkrumah, edited by Efemia Chela and Vijay Prashad and published by Inkani Books. The artwork travelled back to Nkrumah’s homeland, Ghana, and was gifted to his family, as well as the offices of Pan African TV in Accra. Meanwhile, Kael Abello created the cover for 1804 Books’ upcoming Amílcar Cabral: A Political Biography by Mario Pinto de Andrade. In case you missed it, designer, historian, and archivist Josh MacPhee interviewed me about our cultural work at Tricontinental, which was included in Graphic Liberation: Image Making and Political Movements, alongside interviews with revolutionary artists from the Black Panther Party’s Emory Douglas to Medu Art Ensemble’s Judy Seidman. ‘Internationalise the struggle. Internationalise the hope’ graphic arts workshop at the Battle of Ideas course in Brazil, 2024. Throughout this month, members of our art collective have been actively participating in the month-long course Battle of Ideas: Culture and Communication in Political Education for Cadre, hosted by the International Peoples’ Assembly and the MST’s Florestan Fernandes National School. During the workshops, Tricontinental has been drawing from our research on the art and culture of national liberation, socialist struggles and our practices developed by producing artwork and knowledge from and for social movements and political organisations. The Battle of Ideas, a banner that Fidel Castro raised in the 1990s, was a clarion call to the Cuban people to fight against the rising neoliberal ideology that followed the overthrow of the Soviet Union. This meant the necessity of winning the hearts and minds of the people as a defiant defence of socialism against the so-called end of history. As Fidel said a quarter-century ago at Hugo Chávez’s presidential inauguration in Caracas, Venezuela, ‘A revolution can only be the child of culture and ideas’. It is in the trenches of this battle over culture, ideas, and emotions that we firmly continue. Warmly, Tings |
2024.04.29 03:40 Storms_Wrath The Human Artificial Hivemind Part 505: Alien Minds
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Admiral Tenrah returned to the battle map, looking at all the various icons and routes to and from star systems. So far, the Sennes Armada was keeping its pace mostly on track. The delay due to the diplomats from the Misan Li Heptarchies no longer would matter.
King Siran had pulled back from the battlefront against the High Federation in an attempt to pivot to the Hive Union. He had won the battle, but the stragglers included the remaining leadership of the High Federation anyway, so they could continue to remain somewhat organized. The massive civil war would soon spill into a more international affair, due to the King's rhetoric. But that was entirely his fault when he so strongly advocated for the deaths of Cawlarians who had lived on planets for generations that he happened to desire.
And he would not let his name be stained with even the suggestion of a loss. The Battle Planner and Fleet Commander Annabelle Weber were also now on their way to the front, and the diplomats from the Heptarchies were tagging along. Phoebe was in discussions with them now, and supposedly there'd been a few breakthroughs on that front. Whatever she'd promised them or get them to agree to, the fleet buildup along the Hive Union's border with the Heptarchies was slowing.
The Interstellar Gathering seemed to have realized no amount of bluffing would get the High King out of war. Even if he was a proxy force aligned with them, King Siran was not valuable enough for them to risk a wider war. It was just as Tenrah had expected and had told Eyahtni, Kawtyahtnakal, and the Patriarchs when he'd met with them several days ago. Just as a young hatchling couldn't be allowed to stray too far from the nest, there was simply no sense for the Heptarchies to risk economic ruin.
Orith and those who ruled over him would shift their tone while pretending it was a natural decision, not one they'd been forced to make to align with reality.
"I must commend your tactics in the latest training exercise," Tenrah said, ruffling his feathers slightly before respectfully nodding to Annabelle.
"I am pleased to hear such high praise from you, Admiral," the woman said. She was fully dressed in her regulation spacesuit, meaning most of her face was obscured. But Tenrah wouldn't complain since it was more than prudent to be ready for anything. The next unknown ships might not be friendly.
He had also looked into the parties responsible for the lack of communication or warning of the Misan's arrival. As it turned out, general incompetence was to blame. A receiver hadn't been properly calibrated, so the transmission signal had just been noise. He'd given the officer in charge of that an earful before eventually letting up and telling him to do better. A personal visit with the Admiral was one thing. But a second personal visit was quite another.
Tenrah drew a vector toward some of the outer systems controlled by the High King. A few garrison forces were there, but they would be swept away almost instantly. What most concerned him was the shipyards in the region that received most of their metals from a select group of planets in those systems. They were rich in the metals required to forge the alloys needed in the High King's fleet.
The High Federation had been something of a dumping ground for either overthrown species or other alien species that had been deported from their homeworlds before the war broke out. This was reflected in the number of species inhabiting the worlds, each with unique names, traits, and temperaments.
"We plan on taking this path, and then splitting to conquer these systems and disable their metal exporting abilities," he explained. "Then we will move to this system."
He zoomed in more and drew a new vector from where the previous one ended. "We have intelligence that they have at least four planet crackers there. Brey will send FTL suppression satellites through portals on the outer edges, with her portals boosted by our psychic amplifier fields. we will be able to take over the system quickly, and begin the process of either disabling the planet crackers or moving them back to our territory."
"We will need to know the angles the superweapons are at before committing to the battle," Annabelle said. "Otherwise, judging by the trajectory cone you have, we can bypass them entirely and reach Siran within two weeks."
"And that is an interesting proposal. Can you lay out your plan, in that case?"
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Annabelle did so. She and Tenrah discussed the strategy's risks, and they eventually decided that such a tactic, while bold, wouldn't do what they set out to do: ensure the safety of the Cawlarians near the border. They were already trying to evacuate from the coming war front, but cities and planets were large things that took a lot of time to completely empty.
And more garrison forces, whether they were androids from Phoebe or specialized and highly trained defenders from the Union, were still moving in as the civilians evacuated. Kawtyahtnakal had established a fund for them, but many people were too stubborn to leave. Despite the looming threat of war and possible massacre, they still refused to board the passenger ships. Annabelle could respect their tenacity and courage, though she personally believed it was counterproductive.
A few encroaching splinters of Siran's fleet had already struck the evacuation forces. He'd sent around 2% of his ships away to harass all the border systems within reach in an attempt to get the Armada bogged down in defense. But with such small forces and the Union on such high alert, all of the important stations with weak shields were well within the protective layers of planetary shields in the area.
Larger garrisons than necessary were still required, of course, but Tenrah had managed to navigate the desperate concerns of the Feathers and those like them in charge of governing their planets with his natural political skill. He didn't need to ask them for favors because, as an Admiral, he alone held power over how his portion of the fleet would respond. Annabelle had witnessed that loyalty and control well within the organization of his fleet. Even at his advanced age, she continued to be impressed with his adaptability and skill at monitoring three-dimensional battle planes and fields.
She pointed to the cone of possible directions Siran was expected to take. They were generally adjacent to the border, though they would head around the left side of the territory he claimed from the Union. If he reached it, millions of lives would be lost every day. Once he broke the shields entirely, the planets would be utterly glassed down to their mantles.
She'd read up on his methods and had seen videos of them in action. Despite all her training, it still was haunting. The hivemind helped to soothe her when the unpleasant parts of command sizzled up to meet her in the middle of the night.
But they would not impede her on the field of battle. When she went to war, the hivemind suppressed all that wasn't necessary for the mission. It was their agreement, one which she'd asked of it. And being a node of the network meant that her stability was paramount, even more so than her title as Fleet Commander. For if she fell, others could take her place. Protocols ensured and demanded that.
But her place in the hivemind was what allowed it to have any strength this far out. It could form avatars and help with long-range communications, though the main mind back on Earth and Luna obviously remained disconnected from this distance.
"I would normally agree with you, Fleet Commander, but I am reminded of your tactic to use decoy hard light holograms."
"They will suspect that any ships heading right for the barrels, or close enough, are either not valued enough or are the decoys."
"Then all you have to do is make them impossible to ignore," Tenrah said. "I can lend you bombs capable of remaining armed and capable of being triggered inside of hard light holograms, even with jamming involved. Then, they will be unable to ignore them, and the explosions generated would destroy the shields in place around the planet crackers. If they fire the weapons, then the residual magnetic interference will allow us to destroy them, since the shields will be far weakened."
Annabelle could see the potential brilliance of the strategy. But it was just that- potential. In space, there were no obstacles. Without stealth fields, there was no hiding. And with hard light holograms, stealth was obviously off-limits.
They would be left approaching from angles that they would be unable to adapt to. She had her VI plot several routes but was unsatisfied, so she had Edu'frec link into the network to do it. Phoebe had been replaced after contacting a Sprilnav network to ensure she could scrub any programs that may have gotten through to her without distraction.
It would be a terrible thing for a Sprilnav AI to make it to her dreadnaught, for sure.
"We will likely need a threefold diversion at least," Annabelle said. "Maybe fourfold, if we can spare the forces, and brave any minefields that may exist."
"Well," Tenrah began. He pulled up a few schematics of the weapons her dreadnaught carried. "I believe you can solve the minefield issue from a distance, even with the lightspeed limit. After all, they can't move easily. As for the actual attack? I suggest a sixfold flower formation, with a twisting wings accent."
"You will have to show me a diagram of that," Annabelle said, grasping uselessly at the unfamiliar words. Before their integration had begun, there had been a limit to how much doctrine she could memorize.
Tenrah pulled up an image of an alien flower blooming with six petals. And then the image faded, overloading with a stylized ribbon of red shapes. The ribbons spun on their sides every thirty seconds, like corkscrews that were flatter.
"And in this case, the ribbons represent the drone formations. I can send a few carriers into the battle with fighter escorts, though we will need to keep them spread out to avoid any direct lines of sight from the planet crackers."
"I heavily doubt they will waste such shots on carriers," Annabelle said. "And if you commit more, you will overwhelm their defenses. I believe your drones are highly reflective, so only missiles and bullets can deal sufficient damage at the involved speeds and numbers we are working with here."
She tapped the diagram, shifting it by about 45 degrees.
"I believe I can fit a stealth force here, which will engage the back defenses of the planet crackers once they focus their shields frontward. I can likely get a full battlecruiser group in, and if you can press in as a wedge around 10 million kilometers above me from where I come in, and around 30 million kilometers below," Annebelle paused to draw the vectors with her hands, "Then it will aid in my ability to subdue them. It would likely shorten the battle time from a week down to four days."
"Assuming their detection satellites are not capable of seeing it."
"And we will target those too. I believe the first strike can fall on those, since the planet crackers will interfere with their ability to scan behind themselves, and such large power signatures can be noted."
"There is one more problem," Tenrah said. "We are generally working on the assumption of trying to capture these ships, yes?"
"Yes," Annabelle said.
"Then will we board them?"
"Yes, but no. Edu'frec and Phoebe's commando androids will open up the beach heads on the physical surfaces of the planet crackers, while our specialized mental warfare agents will take the fight to them in the mindscape. I assume you have your own plans in that regard?"
"It depends on how we will split the planet crackers. There are 12 in the system. Half and half?"
"That seems prudent," Annabelle replied. She selected the ones that would be most advantageous for her various gambits and strategies to work. They were closer together, which meant more capacity for coordination, mutual aid, and shielding. But it also meant a larger target, one which she could hit from many vectors without worrying about each enemy ship having a wide field of view. Some battlecruisers and cruiser groups were scattered around, but they were not enough to resist the Armada. And once Siran was robbed of a quick way to end the war, the Union would hold the upper hand, capable of committing devastating power to a fleet that remained in a system for a long time.
Yet the same was true for the Union and the Alliance. If the battle took too long, or their command positions were located, then the terrible might of the planet cracker beams would be turned upon them instead. Annabelle's dreadnaught was powerful. More so than all the ones before it. But that didn't mean she wanted to test her shields against alien planet crackers.
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Penny was talking to a group of freed slaves on Justicar. These were recent ones who still held quite a bit of trauma. They'd taken to calling her 'Liberator' despite her never identifying herself as such. It was oddly endearing and did make her feel quite a bit better. It was good to just be able to go out and help people.
She felt some perturbations in the mindscape but ignored them. Right now, she needed to ensure that the gangs couldn't continue their horrific industry. She'd taken out most of their heavy equipment and was now waiting for the Guides to finish searching.
Sirens and alarms echoed in the distance. Penny sent psychic energy into her eyes, but she was too far underground to see anything without using the energy itself instead of light to see. Justicar's mind seemed busy, so she couldn't connect with him. As time went on, Penny felt that something was wrong. It was a gut feeling that she couldn't place. But because of that, she was on edge. She made a large shield of psychic energy above them.
She held it for several minutes. Nothing happened, but Penny wouldn't let it down that quickly. Justicar still didn't respond. Her communicator rang. Kashaunta was calling.
"What's going on?" Penny asked.
"The Grand Fleet is-"
Light and heat smashed into her, easily breaking through her shields. She briefly saw tens of thousands of Sprilnav burning before the light overwhelmed her eyes. Her communicator was destroyed. The onslaught was accompanied by a monstrous level of sound. Shockwaves drilled Penny into the melting and fracturing ground, forcing her lower and lower into expanding pools of magma and liquid metal.
The city's upper layers fell upon her, crashing with great and terrible force. But Penny was now fully reinforced with psychic and conceptual energy. She erupted furiously from the rubble. The air around her burned with heat as she continued to accelerate. The armor plates now surrounding her glowed cherry red, but they were white by the time she'd reached space.
She reached the first planetary shield.
"Displace," Penny growled. She forced reality to move as she willed and to place herself where she saw fit. The Grand Fleets were high above, firing upon a small group of ships that had detached from Azeri's fleet. They seemed to be directly attacking the broken-off contingent and not Justicar itself.
So Penny increased her eyesight and analyzed the battle in both real space and the mindscape. Nilnacrawla helped her identify Justicar's targets. The massive Elder was angrier than she'd ever seen him, and his size, which was even larger than Tetelali, made that incarnation of him appear more like a god of wrath. She saw him brutally tear through groups of minds desperately running to avoid him.
She could faintly see spheres of psychic and conceptual energy area denial fields. From this distance, the flagships' strength was truly impressive. Both of them were at least ten times as powerful as Azeri's had been during their battle. It was clear both Kashaunta and Valisada had ordered upgrades.
Then, her attention came to the dreadnaught, which seemed to be at the head of the attack. Penny explored the ship with her psychic power, pushing aside all resistance. Several lasers struck her, but she ignored them, denying their impact in reality against her own.
It glowed with the fury of weapons firing. Missiles and fighters flowed out of its bays. Bullets, nukes, and lasers streamed from red-hot gun barrels. A nuke hit her but didn't explode. She ripped it apart, using the materials to add energy to her reserves.
Justicar continued to go in inside the mindscape. He tore at them like a shark at a school of minnows in a coral reef. His ravenous anger and hatred were frightening, but Penny rapidly got used to it. Calling up her own memories of the innocent people who'd been killed for no reason, Penny wrapped herself in energy and began to erase her signature from the area.
Fighters flew past her, no longer hitting her psychic shields with bullets. Lasers stopped firing at her since she'd moved from her last position, and there was no longer anything for them to track. Penny floated in the stars, with bright blooms of white fusion explosions blossoming around her. And so she moved forward. She reached a cruiser. She reached forward, teleporting past its shields, and shut down the ship's reactor by teleporting all of its fuel into the void.
Soon, a missile from Kashaunta's Grand Fleet found the vessel, and it vanished in another sphere of heat and light. Of course, it was all silent in space. Penny could only hear her heart beating and occasional warnings from Exile or Nilnacrawla at incoming attacks. Exile occupied the area in her ears, which felt weird, but it allowed him to speak without showing himself in the mindscape. Given his nature and the fact that the Grand Fleets likely had detections for speeding space entities, it would be a terrible idea for him to appear there. Nilnacrawla continued to help Penny with the mental aspects of the battle.
He processed the energy input and output that Penny was giving off in the hopes of keeping her off the sensors of the dreadnaught battlegroup. She didn't want to attract the full focus of one of those massive guns. The explosions on Justicar would have been capable of cracking apart a mountain range if not for the extensive dampening Justicar's shields had done. And she'd withstood them only because she could shunt off most of their impact into reality, leaning into her conceptual nature and the nature of Cardinality to escape certain death.
Even with her power, as high as it had ever been, the blow she was taking were the most powerful physical impacts she'd ever endured.
She also suspected Yasihaut's work in this, though she had nothing to prove. She also had to remain vigilant about the Judgment. She couldn't take overly hostile actions, so she didn't just teleport the Sprilnav in the area out of their ships. She tried it on a smaller scale, and a weak pressure from the dreadnaught made her power fail to affect them.
But those Sprilnav were still doomed to die by their commander. But Penny didn't wish to doom the Alliance and herself by taking their deaths into her own hands. And she was stained with enough blood, metaphorical and literal. The ashes of the people she'd freed had fallen away with her ascent into the atmosphere, but the gritty memory and feel of them never would.
Once again, she'd been powerless to save those who'd needed her. And if she'd had that power, what could she have really done? Would she have been forced to stand there and take it? Or could she have really fought back in a way that wouldn't be turned against her in the Judgment? And was she wrong for considering all of that during such a horrendous time, when she'd literally seen thousands of people turned to slag and ash before her very eyes just ten minutes ago?
Penny burned with shame and grief. She hated this. She hated that things always turned to this. Why couldn't the galaxy just leave people alone? Why did there have to be so much suffering? Her anger threatened to overwhelm her, but with a herculean effort from her, Nilnacrawla, and Cardi, it was beaten back.
Penny felt Justicar getting close to breaking through the shield. She sent a small jolt of power to its underside. A thick bolt of psychic lightning infused with rage leaped from her arms, shattering the shield completely and taking roughly half her power. In the dreadnaught, the antimatter reactor she could sense radiating its energy suddenly lost all coolant access.
She pushed her psychic energy into herself and her conceptual energy into words that she harmonized into existence with the force and might of her will.
"Cardinality: One to zero. Reversal."
A heap of her energy left her instantly, stopping a budding explosion from ripping the dreadnaught apart. Justicar absolutely ravaged whoever was inside that ship, including what appeared to be a leader figure in the mindscape. Penny watched Justicar smash the Elder's corpse in his jaws and tear his soul from his body before shredding it violently with a contraption that looked straight out of a horror movie.
She let the explosion go, and so it went. The dreadnaught cracked in half. The Grand Fleets, which had never stopped firing, finally broke through the shields as the circuits failed to supply them with power. Hundreds of thousands of lives winked out instantly, torn to subatomic particles by beams coming from two different flagships. Penny went straight to Kashaunta, appearing on the ship's bridge still in stealth. To their credit, her guards noticed immediately and bared their weapons at her.
The guns that were powerful enough to blast holes in skyscrapers and sturdy enough to withstand a fall from orbit with hardly a scratch unloaded their payloads into her. Penny opened her mouth, and strings of psychic energy writhed outward, wrapping themselves around the guns and wrenching them out of the claws of Kashaunta's guards while the impacts' explosions were contained by thick shields.
Kashaunta herself had already drawn her sword but hadn't moved an inch.
"Penny," she said dryly. "Welcome to my ship. I apologize for your reception."
A new shield came down on both of them, preventing their words from reaching the ears of Kashaunta's subordinates.
"Think nothing of it, Elder Kashaunta. What punishments will be given to the Grand Fleet Commander?"
"Well, technically I am not the Grand Fleet Commander of this fleet," she said. "So that is not really something I can enforce. However, the Grand Fleet Commander of the 85th Grand Fleet does wish to talk with you, Justicar, and myself about what just occurred."
"And you believe him?" she exclaimed.
"He sent transcripts of the message he sent to one Elder Solei, asking him to cease his actions before it was too late."
"Even the Alliance can make deepfakes," Penny said.
"And do you think I would be ignorant of such things, child?" Kashaunta asked. "We have ways around those. That is why we still have a society after billions of years of time to screw it all up. Deepfakes are a problem of less advanced species and cultures, not those with the tools to handle them."
"Which are AIs, which you also ban throughout the galaxy."
"Yes."
"Isn't that hypocritical?"
"Yes, it is," Kashaunta said. "You can go and complain to the Judges who decided that if you wish, though asking them to think of the children instead of preserving the power of the entire Sprilnav species will get you laughed at by a billion mouths."
Penny felt something in her mind take offense to Kashaunta's wording. It didn't feel like it was part of her, but it also did. The shock of all the lives lost hit her again, making her scowl.
"So there will be nothing done?" Penny growled.
"No. Prepare for a neutral and level-headed discussion. If you wish to have any seat at a table such as this, you will conduct yourself with decorum. You will not accuse Elder Valisada of being responsible for whichever fool did this, and you most certainly will not baselessly claim that Yasihaut is at fault for this, even if it is likely that she or her backers are. It is time you learn the lesson that all Elders have: there are always more Sprilnav. Recognize that this was a strike against you without casting aside all of your goodwill among those that matter."
"Those that matter," Penny mused. "Sometimes I forget what you are."
Kashaunta stepped forward, eyes narrowing. She let out a hiss.
"You saw a few thousand people die, and now you're back to the racism again? Grow up. People die all the time in this galaxy. You complain about the status quo. I would respect that, if you could stomach what is required to change it. Death will continue to run rampant, and you will be the reason more die no matter what you do. 760 sextillion Sprilnav, Penny. And you cry over ten thousand?
During the Source war, we sent two years olds to war. You don't get to slide back into comfortable dumb hatred of our species because of a few stupid people. Rest assured, if you ever get this Alliance-based order, you or your successors will become tyrants. There will be a human who has the power and will to start wars, and enact genocides, for functionally no reason. Need I remind you of World War Two, and World War Three? If you multiply the population of Humanity by a trillion, that means you'll get a trillion Pol Pots, or Hitlers, or Genghis Khans.
And a hell of a lot more dumb idiots in power, which ascribes most of the history of nearly every species in the galaxy. Notice how Valisada and I both fired on Solei once he decided to be an adult daycare nominee? Notice how Valisada has not fired at us, or Justicar, and is trying his best to start a constructive dialogue? People die in war, Penny. This is reality. And you cast your disdain onto me, the only Sprilnav keeping you alive in this place, because I happened to be born an Elder. But no. I'm still some alien, right? Just another dirty animal for you to kill when the Judgment ends."
Kashaunta's fury caught Penny off-guard. The Elder truly meant her words. Penny had deeply offended her, cracking open the facade she usually maintained. The smug feeling at having made Kashaunta go on such a tirade faded when she considered the circumstances. Maybe she had acted like a child. But she hadn't said anything truly deserving of such a furious tirade, had she?
Not unless her proclamation that she remembered 'what Kashaunta was' had an implication that she didn't understand. Kashaunta was a mass murderer, one who was more than willing to justify it when necessary. And she downplayed the fact that this attack was on Penny herself and on thousands of innocents on a Sprilnav planet where she was meant to be safe. This wasn't a pair of assassins in the night, slipping poison into water or dropping snakes into a bed. This was a much more insidious and terrifying evil. Penny had been powerless to stop it.
Penny knew she was right, but Kashaunta did not. Could she truly weigh her scant decades against Kashaunta's billions of years of age? Perhaps. Age was not wisdom, though it certainly could be experience. Kashaunta turned around and started to walk away. Sadly, Penny still needed her.
"I'm sorry, Kashaunta. I am... incredibly charged. I am very pissed right now. I am not apologizing for how I feel about this attack. I have every right to be upset, and I will remain so. I will not be bullied or cowed into submission, even by a thousand more tirades. There comes a point where something must be done. But if you are upset over what I said, then I would at least like an honest clarification why."
"Because you had showed me you could think like a person should. That you didn't see people's species anymore. That you were becoming less racist. And yet, when you are cut raw, you still see me as a Sprilnav Elder alone, and therefore complicit in this massacre I literally did everything I could to do stop before it worsened. You said you knew 'what I am' as if you'd forgotten that. And it is clear that you meant that you'd forgotten your belief that I am some dirty criminal Sprilnav, who deserves to be slaughtered in the dark for the crime of being born in her species.
You care more for the ash on Justicar than you do for what I have given you. Your simplistic view of reality would mean that if you could push a button to kill us Elders, you'd do it, robbing countless families of their loved ones, because you now remember 'what we are,' and are again regressing away from your previous growth."
"I am one person, Kashaunta. I don't understand why you care this much about me. But I can recognize that the message you received is one of terrible bigotry. I am suffering, every day, every week, that I remain in this god-forsaken place. It hurts for you to dismiss the people I care about, even for a moment, dying just because there are many of them. But that does not excuse what I said to you despite the death toll you carry on your own head. It was a half-truth."
Kashaunta laughed. "Do you know why I care so much about what you think, Penny? It is because you are the other aliens. All at once. The Alliance is the face of all things 'alien' in many places. Remember what conceptual energy is? Lecalicus told you, I believe. You represent more than just your own views. And if you're able to forgive a speeding space entity, but not me, then it shows that we will never have peace. That no matter what, this cycle of hatred will continue, and I will need to either build a new galaxy with aliens that don't hate us for our ancient crimes, or just figure out another way. You are the face of the rest of the galaxy, Penny. And you have just told me that you still hate me for being an Elder. After I thought you had changed."
"And you believe you are undeserving of such hatred?"
"Penny," Kashaunta said. "The Alliance didn't exist when many of these events happened. Some of your grievances are older than the mountains on Earth. You say you hate us for genocides that happened so long ago that they no longer hold any meaning. There is no compensation we can give to dead species on dead worlds. What you want is an alien species to hate and blame for all the universe's problems. Because it is easier to hate us than to confront reality. And we are the ones you have been told to hate."
"They were not small things. It was the deaths of trillions of people, Kashaunta."
"Yes. And it was wrong. I can understand that. But what do you think will happen when your Alliance, filled with people who hate us, takes over? You will see humans bombing Sprilnav schools, and the hivemind will do nothing, for it will share that hate. Acuarfar will abduct and torture us. Knowers will devour our children. And in the face of that? You would turn a blind eye, because it is too hard to solve with a simple fix. You will only propagate generational hatred, just as all the Alliances and Galactic Republics and Peace Unions did before you.
Because underneath your message of equality for all species is oppression and genocide for us, the villains in your little story. That is what happens in reality, once the benevolent dictators die. And you, who have lived with us, eaten with us, and talked with us, will sit upon your golden throne, and when I am brought before you, naked, bleeding, and in need of support, you will throw me away, because all I am to you is an Elder. That mindset is exactly what stands in the way of peace. It is why I stopped giving you aliens chances for so long. And having to argue this with you at all makes me think you may no longer be worth my effort."
More manipulation. Penny was ready to shout at her, but Nilnacrawla pulled her thoughts away from blind anger. And it did feel unnatural for her. Alien.
"This is not peace," Penny said. "This is war. And we are circumstantial allies. I will not become what you claim."
"I have sown the seeds of a thousand despots," Kashaunta said. "I recognize them when I see them because I have reaped the heads of a million more."
Penny sighed. She wanted to resist and continue arguing, but it wouldn't get her anywhere. Now that she had thought about it, she was unlikely to overturn a viewpoint set in a billion years of experiences. Perhaps Penny could explore this later, when she had time to properly process it all.
"Very well. I will go to this meeting of yours, and I will conduct myself with decorum. However, while I refuse to belittle or forget thousands of deaths, I am sorry that you feel this way."
"But you are not sorry about making me feel so."
"No," Penny replied. She suppressed her emotions more, taking the time to carefully consider her words. Kashaunta was wrong and oddly sensitive right now. Saying the wrong thing could damage far more than their mutual feelings. As much as she wanted to win this argument, Kashaunta was who she was. She was the alien dictator keeping the Alliance alive.
"We are both right in some ways, and perhaps we might be both wrong, too. This only shows how tough the road will be. We at least are consciously trying to come to an understanding. But for the billions of Alliance citizens, quintillions of aliens, and sextillions of Sprilnav? It is a gargantuan task. And... right now, I don't think it is possible."
"It isn't," Kashaunta said. "And it won't be for thousands of years. But we don't get some neat little time skip to wait and solve all of our problems for us. Change will start only when we make it."
Kashaunta was throwing her a bone, then. They both knew the argument couldn't continue right now.
"So we have an understanding, then," Penny said. "Hatred will remain, but it must be minimised. That way, cultural and social pressure will eventually stamp it out, and we may have peace."
"No. We will have a truce, which will only become peace with much more work. The Alliance is a nation that is 24 years old. Only a single generation has grown up within it. Negotiations will be hard with so many who remember the hatred. But Valisada is not like other Sprilnav. He will seek to bring a hybrid war to you and the Alliance, unless you can convince him that you truly mean to bridge the divide. You are clearly misguided, but have a genuinely good heart. That will make life hard for you. Your words today would have spelled the death of you and the Alliance, had I not established this shield around us to hide them. Out of the spirit of our friendship, I will not request a favor in return for this boon."
"Thank you, Kashaunta. Though I'm not sure I can consider you a friend."
"The fact that you bothered to listen to my side of things, in this limited aspect, despite the hurt you must feel right now, proves otherwise. I am well aware of my past crimes, Penny. I know that my emotions today were a weakness I should have been able to seal, and that you will still see me for who I was, and not who I am. I know how it sounds for me, a killer and a ruler, to be upset at being confronted. But that is how I am. I still have my pride as an Elder, and there is only so far it can be pushed. Who I was certainly would qualify as beyond evil. But to remain at the top, there are limits to how far you can swing into benevolence.
I cannot atone. Do not try to make me repay debts that you don't own. If you are ever to have more Elders on your side, whether Progenitors or otherwise, you will need to learn to deal with this. There will be people with death tolls higher than the population of the Alliance, who were once the heart of evil and are now at least acceptable. The first step will be recognizing that, yes, we are in fact friends, despite my history. Because only from friendship and understanding can hope come."
"I will think about this more. My feelings about this, and about you, have not yet solidified."
"I was wrong for what I said to you, Penny. We are both on edge, and said things that we didn't properly express. We should get our heads in order before re-entering this argument with logic instead of emotions."
"I agree. I will go and see who I can save. And I will think more about this. I freed people from slavery, and watched them die today. Respectfully, I must spend some time away from you for now."
Penny left the ship. In something near her subconscious, anger remained. When she landed in the rubble once again, she missed a small but steady stream of conceptual energy wafting into her from below.
submitted by Storms_Wrath to HFY [link] [comments]
Admiral Tenrah returned to the battle map, looking at all the various icons and routes to and from star systems. So far, the Sennes Armada was keeping its pace mostly on track. The delay due to the diplomats from the Misan Li Heptarchies no longer would matter.
King Siran had pulled back from the battlefront against the High Federation in an attempt to pivot to the Hive Union. He had won the battle, but the stragglers included the remaining leadership of the High Federation anyway, so they could continue to remain somewhat organized. The massive civil war would soon spill into a more international affair, due to the King's rhetoric. But that was entirely his fault when he so strongly advocated for the deaths of Cawlarians who had lived on planets for generations that he happened to desire.
And he would not let his name be stained with even the suggestion of a loss. The Battle Planner and Fleet Commander Annabelle Weber were also now on their way to the front, and the diplomats from the Heptarchies were tagging along. Phoebe was in discussions with them now, and supposedly there'd been a few breakthroughs on that front. Whatever she'd promised them or get them to agree to, the fleet buildup along the Hive Union's border with the Heptarchies was slowing.
The Interstellar Gathering seemed to have realized no amount of bluffing would get the High King out of war. Even if he was a proxy force aligned with them, King Siran was not valuable enough for them to risk a wider war. It was just as Tenrah had expected and had told Eyahtni, Kawtyahtnakal, and the Patriarchs when he'd met with them several days ago. Just as a young hatchling couldn't be allowed to stray too far from the nest, there was simply no sense for the Heptarchies to risk economic ruin.
Orith and those who ruled over him would shift their tone while pretending it was a natural decision, not one they'd been forced to make to align with reality.
"I must commend your tactics in the latest training exercise," Tenrah said, ruffling his feathers slightly before respectfully nodding to Annabelle.
"I am pleased to hear such high praise from you, Admiral," the woman said. She was fully dressed in her regulation spacesuit, meaning most of her face was obscured. But Tenrah wouldn't complain since it was more than prudent to be ready for anything. The next unknown ships might not be friendly.
He had also looked into the parties responsible for the lack of communication or warning of the Misan's arrival. As it turned out, general incompetence was to blame. A receiver hadn't been properly calibrated, so the transmission signal had just been noise. He'd given the officer in charge of that an earful before eventually letting up and telling him to do better. A personal visit with the Admiral was one thing. But a second personal visit was quite another.
Tenrah drew a vector toward some of the outer systems controlled by the High King. A few garrison forces were there, but they would be swept away almost instantly. What most concerned him was the shipyards in the region that received most of their metals from a select group of planets in those systems. They were rich in the metals required to forge the alloys needed in the High King's fleet.
The High Federation had been something of a dumping ground for either overthrown species or other alien species that had been deported from their homeworlds before the war broke out. This was reflected in the number of species inhabiting the worlds, each with unique names, traits, and temperaments.
"We plan on taking this path, and then splitting to conquer these systems and disable their metal exporting abilities," he explained. "Then we will move to this system."
He zoomed in more and drew a new vector from where the previous one ended. "We have intelligence that they have at least four planet crackers there. Brey will send FTL suppression satellites through portals on the outer edges, with her portals boosted by our psychic amplifier fields. we will be able to take over the system quickly, and begin the process of either disabling the planet crackers or moving them back to our territory."
"We will need to know the angles the superweapons are at before committing to the battle," Annabelle said. "Otherwise, judging by the trajectory cone you have, we can bypass them entirely and reach Siran within two weeks."
"And that is an interesting proposal. Can you lay out your plan, in that case?"
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Annabelle did so. She and Tenrah discussed the strategy's risks, and they eventually decided that such a tactic, while bold, wouldn't do what they set out to do: ensure the safety of the Cawlarians near the border. They were already trying to evacuate from the coming war front, but cities and planets were large things that took a lot of time to completely empty.
And more garrison forces, whether they were androids from Phoebe or specialized and highly trained defenders from the Union, were still moving in as the civilians evacuated. Kawtyahtnakal had established a fund for them, but many people were too stubborn to leave. Despite the looming threat of war and possible massacre, they still refused to board the passenger ships. Annabelle could respect their tenacity and courage, though she personally believed it was counterproductive.
A few encroaching splinters of Siran's fleet had already struck the evacuation forces. He'd sent around 2% of his ships away to harass all the border systems within reach in an attempt to get the Armada bogged down in defense. But with such small forces and the Union on such high alert, all of the important stations with weak shields were well within the protective layers of planetary shields in the area.
Larger garrisons than necessary were still required, of course, but Tenrah had managed to navigate the desperate concerns of the Feathers and those like them in charge of governing their planets with his natural political skill. He didn't need to ask them for favors because, as an Admiral, he alone held power over how his portion of the fleet would respond. Annabelle had witnessed that loyalty and control well within the organization of his fleet. Even at his advanced age, she continued to be impressed with his adaptability and skill at monitoring three-dimensional battle planes and fields.
She pointed to the cone of possible directions Siran was expected to take. They were generally adjacent to the border, though they would head around the left side of the territory he claimed from the Union. If he reached it, millions of lives would be lost every day. Once he broke the shields entirely, the planets would be utterly glassed down to their mantles.
She'd read up on his methods and had seen videos of them in action. Despite all her training, it still was haunting. The hivemind helped to soothe her when the unpleasant parts of command sizzled up to meet her in the middle of the night.
But they would not impede her on the field of battle. When she went to war, the hivemind suppressed all that wasn't necessary for the mission. It was their agreement, one which she'd asked of it. And being a node of the network meant that her stability was paramount, even more so than her title as Fleet Commander. For if she fell, others could take her place. Protocols ensured and demanded that.
But her place in the hivemind was what allowed it to have any strength this far out. It could form avatars and help with long-range communications, though the main mind back on Earth and Luna obviously remained disconnected from this distance.
"I would normally agree with you, Fleet Commander, but I am reminded of your tactic to use decoy hard light holograms."
"They will suspect that any ships heading right for the barrels, or close enough, are either not valued enough or are the decoys."
"Then all you have to do is make them impossible to ignore," Tenrah said. "I can lend you bombs capable of remaining armed and capable of being triggered inside of hard light holograms, even with jamming involved. Then, they will be unable to ignore them, and the explosions generated would destroy the shields in place around the planet crackers. If they fire the weapons, then the residual magnetic interference will allow us to destroy them, since the shields will be far weakened."
Annabelle could see the potential brilliance of the strategy. But it was just that- potential. In space, there were no obstacles. Without stealth fields, there was no hiding. And with hard light holograms, stealth was obviously off-limits.
They would be left approaching from angles that they would be unable to adapt to. She had her VI plot several routes but was unsatisfied, so she had Edu'frec link into the network to do it. Phoebe had been replaced after contacting a Sprilnav network to ensure she could scrub any programs that may have gotten through to her without distraction.
It would be a terrible thing for a Sprilnav AI to make it to her dreadnaught, for sure.
"We will likely need a threefold diversion at least," Annabelle said. "Maybe fourfold, if we can spare the forces, and brave any minefields that may exist."
"Well," Tenrah began. He pulled up a few schematics of the weapons her dreadnaught carried. "I believe you can solve the minefield issue from a distance, even with the lightspeed limit. After all, they can't move easily. As for the actual attack? I suggest a sixfold flower formation, with a twisting wings accent."
"You will have to show me a diagram of that," Annabelle said, grasping uselessly at the unfamiliar words. Before their integration had begun, there had been a limit to how much doctrine she could memorize.
Tenrah pulled up an image of an alien flower blooming with six petals. And then the image faded, overloading with a stylized ribbon of red shapes. The ribbons spun on their sides every thirty seconds, like corkscrews that were flatter.
"And in this case, the ribbons represent the drone formations. I can send a few carriers into the battle with fighter escorts, though we will need to keep them spread out to avoid any direct lines of sight from the planet crackers."
"I heavily doubt they will waste such shots on carriers," Annabelle said. "And if you commit more, you will overwhelm their defenses. I believe your drones are highly reflective, so only missiles and bullets can deal sufficient damage at the involved speeds and numbers we are working with here."
She tapped the diagram, shifting it by about 45 degrees.
"I believe I can fit a stealth force here, which will engage the back defenses of the planet crackers once they focus their shields frontward. I can likely get a full battlecruiser group in, and if you can press in as a wedge around 10 million kilometers above me from where I come in, and around 30 million kilometers below," Annebelle paused to draw the vectors with her hands, "Then it will aid in my ability to subdue them. It would likely shorten the battle time from a week down to four days."
"Assuming their detection satellites are not capable of seeing it."
"And we will target those too. I believe the first strike can fall on those, since the planet crackers will interfere with their ability to scan behind themselves, and such large power signatures can be noted."
"There is one more problem," Tenrah said. "We are generally working on the assumption of trying to capture these ships, yes?"
"Yes," Annabelle said.
"Then will we board them?"
"Yes, but no. Edu'frec and Phoebe's commando androids will open up the beach heads on the physical surfaces of the planet crackers, while our specialized mental warfare agents will take the fight to them in the mindscape. I assume you have your own plans in that regard?"
"It depends on how we will split the planet crackers. There are 12 in the system. Half and half?"
"That seems prudent," Annabelle replied. She selected the ones that would be most advantageous for her various gambits and strategies to work. They were closer together, which meant more capacity for coordination, mutual aid, and shielding. But it also meant a larger target, one which she could hit from many vectors without worrying about each enemy ship having a wide field of view. Some battlecruisers and cruiser groups were scattered around, but they were not enough to resist the Armada. And once Siran was robbed of a quick way to end the war, the Union would hold the upper hand, capable of committing devastating power to a fleet that remained in a system for a long time.
Yet the same was true for the Union and the Alliance. If the battle took too long, or their command positions were located, then the terrible might of the planet cracker beams would be turned upon them instead. Annabelle's dreadnaught was powerful. More so than all the ones before it. But that didn't mean she wanted to test her shields against alien planet crackers.
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Penny was talking to a group of freed slaves on Justicar. These were recent ones who still held quite a bit of trauma. They'd taken to calling her 'Liberator' despite her never identifying herself as such. It was oddly endearing and did make her feel quite a bit better. It was good to just be able to go out and help people.
She felt some perturbations in the mindscape but ignored them. Right now, she needed to ensure that the gangs couldn't continue their horrific industry. She'd taken out most of their heavy equipment and was now waiting for the Guides to finish searching.
Sirens and alarms echoed in the distance. Penny sent psychic energy into her eyes, but she was too far underground to see anything without using the energy itself instead of light to see. Justicar's mind seemed busy, so she couldn't connect with him. As time went on, Penny felt that something was wrong. It was a gut feeling that she couldn't place. But because of that, she was on edge. She made a large shield of psychic energy above them.
She held it for several minutes. Nothing happened, but Penny wouldn't let it down that quickly. Justicar still didn't respond. Her communicator rang. Kashaunta was calling.
"What's going on?" Penny asked.
"The Grand Fleet is-"
Light and heat smashed into her, easily breaking through her shields. She briefly saw tens of thousands of Sprilnav burning before the light overwhelmed her eyes. Her communicator was destroyed. The onslaught was accompanied by a monstrous level of sound. Shockwaves drilled Penny into the melting and fracturing ground, forcing her lower and lower into expanding pools of magma and liquid metal.
The city's upper layers fell upon her, crashing with great and terrible force. But Penny was now fully reinforced with psychic and conceptual energy. She erupted furiously from the rubble. The air around her burned with heat as she continued to accelerate. The armor plates now surrounding her glowed cherry red, but they were white by the time she'd reached space.
She reached the first planetary shield.
"Displace," Penny growled. She forced reality to move as she willed and to place herself where she saw fit. The Grand Fleets were high above, firing upon a small group of ships that had detached from Azeri's fleet. They seemed to be directly attacking the broken-off contingent and not Justicar itself.
So Penny increased her eyesight and analyzed the battle in both real space and the mindscape. Nilnacrawla helped her identify Justicar's targets. The massive Elder was angrier than she'd ever seen him, and his size, which was even larger than Tetelali, made that incarnation of him appear more like a god of wrath. She saw him brutally tear through groups of minds desperately running to avoid him.
She could faintly see spheres of psychic and conceptual energy area denial fields. From this distance, the flagships' strength was truly impressive. Both of them were at least ten times as powerful as Azeri's had been during their battle. It was clear both Kashaunta and Valisada had ordered upgrades.
Then, her attention came to the dreadnaught, which seemed to be at the head of the attack. Penny explored the ship with her psychic power, pushing aside all resistance. Several lasers struck her, but she ignored them, denying their impact in reality against her own.
It glowed with the fury of weapons firing. Missiles and fighters flowed out of its bays. Bullets, nukes, and lasers streamed from red-hot gun barrels. A nuke hit her but didn't explode. She ripped it apart, using the materials to add energy to her reserves.
Justicar continued to go in inside the mindscape. He tore at them like a shark at a school of minnows in a coral reef. His ravenous anger and hatred were frightening, but Penny rapidly got used to it. Calling up her own memories of the innocent people who'd been killed for no reason, Penny wrapped herself in energy and began to erase her signature from the area.
Fighters flew past her, no longer hitting her psychic shields with bullets. Lasers stopped firing at her since she'd moved from her last position, and there was no longer anything for them to track. Penny floated in the stars, with bright blooms of white fusion explosions blossoming around her. And so she moved forward. She reached a cruiser. She reached forward, teleporting past its shields, and shut down the ship's reactor by teleporting all of its fuel into the void.
Soon, a missile from Kashaunta's Grand Fleet found the vessel, and it vanished in another sphere of heat and light. Of course, it was all silent in space. Penny could only hear her heart beating and occasional warnings from Exile or Nilnacrawla at incoming attacks. Exile occupied the area in her ears, which felt weird, but it allowed him to speak without showing himself in the mindscape. Given his nature and the fact that the Grand Fleets likely had detections for speeding space entities, it would be a terrible idea for him to appear there. Nilnacrawla continued to help Penny with the mental aspects of the battle.
He processed the energy input and output that Penny was giving off in the hopes of keeping her off the sensors of the dreadnaught battlegroup. She didn't want to attract the full focus of one of those massive guns. The explosions on Justicar would have been capable of cracking apart a mountain range if not for the extensive dampening Justicar's shields had done. And she'd withstood them only because she could shunt off most of their impact into reality, leaning into her conceptual nature and the nature of Cardinality to escape certain death.
Even with her power, as high as it had ever been, the blow she was taking were the most powerful physical impacts she'd ever endured.
She also suspected Yasihaut's work in this, though she had nothing to prove. She also had to remain vigilant about the Judgment. She couldn't take overly hostile actions, so she didn't just teleport the Sprilnav in the area out of their ships. She tried it on a smaller scale, and a weak pressure from the dreadnaught made her power fail to affect them.
But those Sprilnav were still doomed to die by their commander. But Penny didn't wish to doom the Alliance and herself by taking their deaths into her own hands. And she was stained with enough blood, metaphorical and literal. The ashes of the people she'd freed had fallen away with her ascent into the atmosphere, but the gritty memory and feel of them never would.
Once again, she'd been powerless to save those who'd needed her. And if she'd had that power, what could she have really done? Would she have been forced to stand there and take it? Or could she have really fought back in a way that wouldn't be turned against her in the Judgment? And was she wrong for considering all of that during such a horrendous time, when she'd literally seen thousands of people turned to slag and ash before her very eyes just ten minutes ago?
Penny burned with shame and grief. She hated this. She hated that things always turned to this. Why couldn't the galaxy just leave people alone? Why did there have to be so much suffering? Her anger threatened to overwhelm her, but with a herculean effort from her, Nilnacrawla, and Cardi, it was beaten back.
Penny felt Justicar getting close to breaking through the shield. She sent a small jolt of power to its underside. A thick bolt of psychic lightning infused with rage leaped from her arms, shattering the shield completely and taking roughly half her power. In the dreadnaught, the antimatter reactor she could sense radiating its energy suddenly lost all coolant access.
She pushed her psychic energy into herself and her conceptual energy into words that she harmonized into existence with the force and might of her will.
"Cardinality: One to zero. Reversal."
A heap of her energy left her instantly, stopping a budding explosion from ripping the dreadnaught apart. Justicar absolutely ravaged whoever was inside that ship, including what appeared to be a leader figure in the mindscape. Penny watched Justicar smash the Elder's corpse in his jaws and tear his soul from his body before shredding it violently with a contraption that looked straight out of a horror movie.
She let the explosion go, and so it went. The dreadnaught cracked in half. The Grand Fleets, which had never stopped firing, finally broke through the shields as the circuits failed to supply them with power. Hundreds of thousands of lives winked out instantly, torn to subatomic particles by beams coming from two different flagships. Penny went straight to Kashaunta, appearing on the ship's bridge still in stealth. To their credit, her guards noticed immediately and bared their weapons at her.
The guns that were powerful enough to blast holes in skyscrapers and sturdy enough to withstand a fall from orbit with hardly a scratch unloaded their payloads into her. Penny opened her mouth, and strings of psychic energy writhed outward, wrapping themselves around the guns and wrenching them out of the claws of Kashaunta's guards while the impacts' explosions were contained by thick shields.
Kashaunta herself had already drawn her sword but hadn't moved an inch.
"Penny," she said dryly. "Welcome to my ship. I apologize for your reception."
A new shield came down on both of them, preventing their words from reaching the ears of Kashaunta's subordinates.
"Think nothing of it, Elder Kashaunta. What punishments will be given to the Grand Fleet Commander?"
"Well, technically I am not the Grand Fleet Commander of this fleet," she said. "So that is not really something I can enforce. However, the Grand Fleet Commander of the 85th Grand Fleet does wish to talk with you, Justicar, and myself about what just occurred."
"And you believe him?" she exclaimed.
"He sent transcripts of the message he sent to one Elder Solei, asking him to cease his actions before it was too late."
"Even the Alliance can make deepfakes," Penny said.
"And do you think I would be ignorant of such things, child?" Kashaunta asked. "We have ways around those. That is why we still have a society after billions of years of time to screw it all up. Deepfakes are a problem of less advanced species and cultures, not those with the tools to handle them."
"Which are AIs, which you also ban throughout the galaxy."
"Yes."
"Isn't that hypocritical?"
"Yes, it is," Kashaunta said. "You can go and complain to the Judges who decided that if you wish, though asking them to think of the children instead of preserving the power of the entire Sprilnav species will get you laughed at by a billion mouths."
Penny felt something in her mind take offense to Kashaunta's wording. It didn't feel like it was part of her, but it also did. The shock of all the lives lost hit her again, making her scowl.
"So there will be nothing done?" Penny growled.
"No. Prepare for a neutral and level-headed discussion. If you wish to have any seat at a table such as this, you will conduct yourself with decorum. You will not accuse Elder Valisada of being responsible for whichever fool did this, and you most certainly will not baselessly claim that Yasihaut is at fault for this, even if it is likely that she or her backers are. It is time you learn the lesson that all Elders have: there are always more Sprilnav. Recognize that this was a strike against you without casting aside all of your goodwill among those that matter."
"Those that matter," Penny mused. "Sometimes I forget what you are."
Kashaunta stepped forward, eyes narrowing. She let out a hiss.
"You saw a few thousand people die, and now you're back to the racism again? Grow up. People die all the time in this galaxy. You complain about the status quo. I would respect that, if you could stomach what is required to change it. Death will continue to run rampant, and you will be the reason more die no matter what you do. 760 sextillion Sprilnav, Penny. And you cry over ten thousand?
During the Source war, we sent two years olds to war. You don't get to slide back into comfortable dumb hatred of our species because of a few stupid people. Rest assured, if you ever get this Alliance-based order, you or your successors will become tyrants. There will be a human who has the power and will to start wars, and enact genocides, for functionally no reason. Need I remind you of World War Two, and World War Three? If you multiply the population of Humanity by a trillion, that means you'll get a trillion Pol Pots, or Hitlers, or Genghis Khans.
And a hell of a lot more dumb idiots in power, which ascribes most of the history of nearly every species in the galaxy. Notice how Valisada and I both fired on Solei once he decided to be an adult daycare nominee? Notice how Valisada has not fired at us, or Justicar, and is trying his best to start a constructive dialogue? People die in war, Penny. This is reality. And you cast your disdain onto me, the only Sprilnav keeping you alive in this place, because I happened to be born an Elder. But no. I'm still some alien, right? Just another dirty animal for you to kill when the Judgment ends."
Kashaunta's fury caught Penny off-guard. The Elder truly meant her words. Penny had deeply offended her, cracking open the facade she usually maintained. The smug feeling at having made Kashaunta go on such a tirade faded when she considered the circumstances. Maybe she had acted like a child. But she hadn't said anything truly deserving of such a furious tirade, had she?
Not unless her proclamation that she remembered 'what Kashaunta was' had an implication that she didn't understand. Kashaunta was a mass murderer, one who was more than willing to justify it when necessary. And she downplayed the fact that this attack was on Penny herself and on thousands of innocents on a Sprilnav planet where she was meant to be safe. This wasn't a pair of assassins in the night, slipping poison into water or dropping snakes into a bed. This was a much more insidious and terrifying evil. Penny had been powerless to stop it.
Penny knew she was right, but Kashaunta did not. Could she truly weigh her scant decades against Kashaunta's billions of years of age? Perhaps. Age was not wisdom, though it certainly could be experience. Kashaunta turned around and started to walk away. Sadly, Penny still needed her.
"I'm sorry, Kashaunta. I am... incredibly charged. I am very pissed right now. I am not apologizing for how I feel about this attack. I have every right to be upset, and I will remain so. I will not be bullied or cowed into submission, even by a thousand more tirades. There comes a point where something must be done. But if you are upset over what I said, then I would at least like an honest clarification why."
"Because you had showed me you could think like a person should. That you didn't see people's species anymore. That you were becoming less racist. And yet, when you are cut raw, you still see me as a Sprilnav Elder alone, and therefore complicit in this massacre I literally did everything I could to do stop before it worsened. You said you knew 'what I am' as if you'd forgotten that. And it is clear that you meant that you'd forgotten your belief that I am some dirty criminal Sprilnav, who deserves to be slaughtered in the dark for the crime of being born in her species.
You care more for the ash on Justicar than you do for what I have given you. Your simplistic view of reality would mean that if you could push a button to kill us Elders, you'd do it, robbing countless families of their loved ones, because you now remember 'what we are,' and are again regressing away from your previous growth."
"I am one person, Kashaunta. I don't understand why you care this much about me. But I can recognize that the message you received is one of terrible bigotry. I am suffering, every day, every week, that I remain in this god-forsaken place. It hurts for you to dismiss the people I care about, even for a moment, dying just because there are many of them. But that does not excuse what I said to you despite the death toll you carry on your own head. It was a half-truth."
Kashaunta laughed. "Do you know why I care so much about what you think, Penny? It is because you are the other aliens. All at once. The Alliance is the face of all things 'alien' in many places. Remember what conceptual energy is? Lecalicus told you, I believe. You represent more than just your own views. And if you're able to forgive a speeding space entity, but not me, then it shows that we will never have peace. That no matter what, this cycle of hatred will continue, and I will need to either build a new galaxy with aliens that don't hate us for our ancient crimes, or just figure out another way. You are the face of the rest of the galaxy, Penny. And you have just told me that you still hate me for being an Elder. After I thought you had changed."
"And you believe you are undeserving of such hatred?"
"Penny," Kashaunta said. "The Alliance didn't exist when many of these events happened. Some of your grievances are older than the mountains on Earth. You say you hate us for genocides that happened so long ago that they no longer hold any meaning. There is no compensation we can give to dead species on dead worlds. What you want is an alien species to hate and blame for all the universe's problems. Because it is easier to hate us than to confront reality. And we are the ones you have been told to hate."
"They were not small things. It was the deaths of trillions of people, Kashaunta."
"Yes. And it was wrong. I can understand that. But what do you think will happen when your Alliance, filled with people who hate us, takes over? You will see humans bombing Sprilnav schools, and the hivemind will do nothing, for it will share that hate. Acuarfar will abduct and torture us. Knowers will devour our children. And in the face of that? You would turn a blind eye, because it is too hard to solve with a simple fix. You will only propagate generational hatred, just as all the Alliances and Galactic Republics and Peace Unions did before you.
Because underneath your message of equality for all species is oppression and genocide for us, the villains in your little story. That is what happens in reality, once the benevolent dictators die. And you, who have lived with us, eaten with us, and talked with us, will sit upon your golden throne, and when I am brought before you, naked, bleeding, and in need of support, you will throw me away, because all I am to you is an Elder. That mindset is exactly what stands in the way of peace. It is why I stopped giving you aliens chances for so long. And having to argue this with you at all makes me think you may no longer be worth my effort."
More manipulation. Penny was ready to shout at her, but Nilnacrawla pulled her thoughts away from blind anger. And it did feel unnatural for her. Alien.
"This is not peace," Penny said. "This is war. And we are circumstantial allies. I will not become what you claim."
"I have sown the seeds of a thousand despots," Kashaunta said. "I recognize them when I see them because I have reaped the heads of a million more."
Penny sighed. She wanted to resist and continue arguing, but it wouldn't get her anywhere. Now that she had thought about it, she was unlikely to overturn a viewpoint set in a billion years of experiences. Perhaps Penny could explore this later, when she had time to properly process it all.
"Very well. I will go to this meeting of yours, and I will conduct myself with decorum. However, while I refuse to belittle or forget thousands of deaths, I am sorry that you feel this way."
"But you are not sorry about making me feel so."
"No," Penny replied. She suppressed her emotions more, taking the time to carefully consider her words. Kashaunta was wrong and oddly sensitive right now. Saying the wrong thing could damage far more than their mutual feelings. As much as she wanted to win this argument, Kashaunta was who she was. She was the alien dictator keeping the Alliance alive.
"We are both right in some ways, and perhaps we might be both wrong, too. This only shows how tough the road will be. We at least are consciously trying to come to an understanding. But for the billions of Alliance citizens, quintillions of aliens, and sextillions of Sprilnav? It is a gargantuan task. And... right now, I don't think it is possible."
"It isn't," Kashaunta said. "And it won't be for thousands of years. But we don't get some neat little time skip to wait and solve all of our problems for us. Change will start only when we make it."
Kashaunta was throwing her a bone, then. They both knew the argument couldn't continue right now.
"So we have an understanding, then," Penny said. "Hatred will remain, but it must be minimised. That way, cultural and social pressure will eventually stamp it out, and we may have peace."
"No. We will have a truce, which will only become peace with much more work. The Alliance is a nation that is 24 years old. Only a single generation has grown up within it. Negotiations will be hard with so many who remember the hatred. But Valisada is not like other Sprilnav. He will seek to bring a hybrid war to you and the Alliance, unless you can convince him that you truly mean to bridge the divide. You are clearly misguided, but have a genuinely good heart. That will make life hard for you. Your words today would have spelled the death of you and the Alliance, had I not established this shield around us to hide them. Out of the spirit of our friendship, I will not request a favor in return for this boon."
"Thank you, Kashaunta. Though I'm not sure I can consider you a friend."
"The fact that you bothered to listen to my side of things, in this limited aspect, despite the hurt you must feel right now, proves otherwise. I am well aware of my past crimes, Penny. I know that my emotions today were a weakness I should have been able to seal, and that you will still see me for who I was, and not who I am. I know how it sounds for me, a killer and a ruler, to be upset at being confronted. But that is how I am. I still have my pride as an Elder, and there is only so far it can be pushed. Who I was certainly would qualify as beyond evil. But to remain at the top, there are limits to how far you can swing into benevolence.
I cannot atone. Do not try to make me repay debts that you don't own. If you are ever to have more Elders on your side, whether Progenitors or otherwise, you will need to learn to deal with this. There will be people with death tolls higher than the population of the Alliance, who were once the heart of evil and are now at least acceptable. The first step will be recognizing that, yes, we are in fact friends, despite my history. Because only from friendship and understanding can hope come."
"I will think about this more. My feelings about this, and about you, have not yet solidified."
"I was wrong for what I said to you, Penny. We are both on edge, and said things that we didn't properly express. We should get our heads in order before re-entering this argument with logic instead of emotions."
"I agree. I will go and see who I can save. And I will think more about this. I freed people from slavery, and watched them die today. Respectfully, I must spend some time away from you for now."
Penny left the ship. In something near her subconscious, anger remained. When she landed in the rubble once again, she missed a small but steady stream of conceptual energy wafting into her from below.
2024.04.27 21:49 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 55
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
"Any other species having been all but wiped out would eventually die. Even if they had the numbers for a genetically stable population, depression and ennui would carry them away.
"The Mad Lemurs of Terra though, they looked it as just one more thing to scream and rave against.
"None of us should have been surprised they returned."- Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff
Sitting on the armored limousine, Violet Flowers Line Paths to Peace watched as the vehicle left the spaceport. He was looking around at everything, taking in what people were wearing, what they were doing. Vehicles, air traffic, everything.
Any other planet that Violet had been too, the Empire of Kitira would be seen as hyper-aggressive, prone to violence, and a powder keg waiting to happen. The fact that the majority of citizens were armed. There were air defense positions everywhere around the star port, with, from what Violet's limited military knowledge told him, extensive sensor systems and targeting systems.
The road showed waving fields of grain and vegetables. He was surprised to see that the fields were being worked by actual people, in brightly colored clothing, rather than robots.
When he saw the sign, which his contact lens translated for him, it suddenly made sense.
"NAKASERO TRADITIONAL FRESH PRODUCE!" as well as "WHY EAT NUTRIFORGE WHEN YOU CAN EAT TRADITIONAL FOODS?" was hand painted on a wooden sign. There were women in bright clothing carrying baskets of woven fiber filled with vegetables. They would move to very modern vehicles before placing the baskets in the back seat.
They do not have to live such lives, they choose to, he thought.
He had studied the nutriforge, creation engine, and matter forge. It was a Terran invention, from even before they managed to achieve superluminal flight They had managed to crack the riddle of energy to mass, mass to energy, with minimal loss during the transfer. As near as he could tell they managed to achieve matter transmission at roughly the same time.
He nodded as he saw another produce area go by. This time it was healthy trees heavily laden with fruit, with living people tending to it, all in the same types of outfits.
The nutriforge freed billions from the work to eat cycle, yet they have people out working to create food, he thought.
More heavily armed citizens.
None of them seemed too curious about the stingwings flying low and slow, the grav strikers, or the armored convoy. Sure, a few people stared for a moment or two, but the majority seemed to just glance then go back to what they were doing.
The vehicles got on a highway.
Armored convoys appeared to be standard. He saw more than a few go by, all of them with heavy security. Some were labeled, personal, political, or corporate. Others were blank, or just had security services on them.
Even individual vehicles seemed heavily armored and armed.
He remembered the sign from the starport.
"BEYOND THIS POINT, YOU HAVE CONSENTED TO BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY"
He had checked.
Earth, Terra, whatever name (He was fond of Tellus), was not a single unified nation that encompassed the planet.
Instead, it was nation states, some of which still competing along esoteric definitions. Some of them were actively at war to the point that there were no less than eleven ongoing conflicts involving military forces.
He had looked. During the fifty years that Terra had been in the Bag, Terra had gone from 123 nation states to 85 back up to 90, down to 87, up to 113, down to 92, and was now at 126 nation states.
Civil wars, absorbing other nations through armed conflict, balkanization, and other means of splitting and combining.
It seemed to be a fairly frequent occurrence on Tallus, for nations to divide, combine, even return from history. There were more than a few nations that were destroyed through warfare or absorbed by their neighbors that then returned.
Violet was glad that he had examined Dreams memoir on her time on Tellus, as well as observations of other leaders
Terrans were adept at conflict, to other observers and their writing it appeared to be a Terran's natural state.
Violet had looked over Tellus history books as his craft had moved in, understanding their history meant everything.
He realized his mistake now.
For the rest of the universe, it was over thirty thousand years, over forty thousand years, since the brutal war between Tellus and a variant Hive of Mantid. He had noted to himself to read up on that conflict as well as communicate with Hive Home diplomatic services to find out exactly what had happened.
Not the official story, but the reality.
He knew how it was easier to let records fade away that contained embarassing facts.
It was never easy to admit that your entire species had been wrong, had been terrible, had been evil.
He knew the shame.
His own people had a dark time, when the original Omniqueen had taken them over after they had found the way to enlightment. How the Omniqueen and her servants had devoured so many of his people's friends. How only a carefully orchestrated rebellion and stellar geometry had allowed them to break free of the Omniqueen.
He carried a slight bit of shame.
Speakers, in antiquity, were powerful psychics, flush with phasic energy. They could control entire planets through their mastery of psychic energy and psychic domination.
That was then.
Over the millions of years his people had changed.
This is now.
No longer could he reach out. No longer could he exert his will over others.
He was truly a Speaker. He spoke for even the smallest of the castes, spoke for the voiceless, spoke in the voice of the Overqueen.
But he could not put his thoughts into the minds of others.
For tens of millions of years, his kind could hear others.
But they used their voice to speak.
It was an honor to be a Speaker. To use his voice to speak for those who used psychic powers to speak. To be able to arbitrate between peoples who could not hear one another due to psychic wavelengths without invading their mind.
The silence and privacy of one's own mind was paramount.
Eloquence was a gift from the universe to the Speakers of his people.
He turned from his musing, watching the fertile land sweep by as the ship approached the city of Captain Alex's Rest. The skyrakers were lit up, lights twinkling. It looked almost like a fairy tale city. Holograms flickered and danced, making it look like the city was sparkling.
He nodded to himself.
He had dealt with primates before. They could be touchy, but usually they were placid, slow to move, slow to anger. The ones that were not usually never got beyond hunter-gatherer or destroyed themselves, at the latest, in an orgy of atomic hellfire.
Not the Terrans.
He looked down at his datapad, checking the updated information. The files from Smokey Cone and Hivehome had arrived during the ride.
Petabytes of data.
He sighed and looked back out of the window.
There would be complaints lodged by his staff toward Diplomatic Services once he arrived at his lodging. It was an unacceptable oversight that Diplomatic Services had sent him completely unprepared beyond a scant few biographies and documentaries. While others may point at the tens of thousands of years that had gone by, Mantid and Lanaktallan and Treana'ad databases handled millions, tens of millions of years of data without losing it due to file degredation.
True, the Lanaktallan databases had issues with file indexing due to the sheer amount of data they kept, but it should have been easy to get the data Violet had needed.
The city was busy, with a dizzying array of colorful or drab clothing. He saw beings of many different species on the streets.
He idly wondered if skin, hair, or eye color denoted castes to the Terrans.
A quick check showed that in antiquity it had.
Ah, yes, the 'The Other Syndrome', many species suffered under it, he thought, reading some it.
Again, he noted how Terran history was full of impossibilities.
He had been made aware of Terran temporal warfare countermeasures. He had been aware of the fact that the Terrans did not care that it might not be their true history, it was true to them and that was all that mattered.
This is going to be difficult, he thought to himself.
His datapad beeped and Violet looked down at it.
The Diplomatic Corps had decided that his datapad was secure and his security clearances were high enough for a file marked immediate priority to be sent to him.
He read it.
He read it again.
And again.
The file detailed what the actual problem was.
He had been sent due to the fact that the Terrans had been in The Bag for over thirty thousand years local for the rest of the galaxy, but only fifty local for them. That when they had vanished into The Bag, the enemy had been the Lanaktallan and the Atrekna (now extinct), as well as the Unified Council and the Precursor Autonomous War Machines.
Now the enemy was the Mar-gite, whoever was facillitating them, two unknown groups, and a handful of smaller, newer, aggressive and energetic species on the fringes of Confederate Space, usually in the Long Dark.
The real reason for the diplomatic urgency was, well, to put it in layman's terms...
mind blowing.
He had read about the Terran rebirth system, largely considered to be a legend or a myth by most beings. That a dead human could be resurrected via a neural mapping copy within minutes or hours.
Recently, upon leaving The Bag, the TerraSol Gestalt had let it slip that the system to perform neural mapping and impressing for Terrans had been applied to all the other races. That trillions of non-Terran beings were in what was being listed as "AFTERLIFE (SUDS)" and "AFTERLIFE (ACTIVE)", dwelling in some kind of user specific paradise with full interaction.
Several Gestalts, and soon afterwards, governments demanded access to the dead. Many wanted them to solve problems, to give interviews to curious academics, to answer for crimes (real or imagined), to solve manpower shortages.
The TerraSol Gestalt, and the Solarian government refused.
Violet nodded. He agreed with the assessment that what was desired was nothing more than slavery.
He agreed with the meme that showed someone living miserably, dying, and a government worker pulling them out of the grave and putting them back to work in misery. Many of the memes ended with "Not even death is a respite. What do you have to lose?"
He nodded. That was understandable. In some nation-states, the government had become malevolent. The idea that you could not escape, even in death, from state enforced bondage, was horrifying. The ethical implications were staggering.
Violet understood their anger. Not personally, not based on personal experience, but intellectually and through observation.
A being could be brought back again and again to serve 'the needs of the People/State' and their work would never be finished.
It was eternal slavery.
The datacomp beeped and he checked it. His arrival and his image had appeared on social media sites despite the attempt at a blackout. Many Terrans were upset that he was present on Tellus. A few of the memes and postings referred to fighting in the Human-Mantid War. Many of those were aggressive toward his person.
Violet thought about it as the car entered the city itself.
From what he had read on the Sentience Uninterrupted Disaster System, those beings may have been killed during the Human-Mantid War and just recently rebirthed.
Their memories of a war over forty-thousand years ago for him were only years old.
Violet made an annotation on his datapad to give a speech that would state that his Hive had never encountered Terrans before. Terran Descent Primates, yes.
His homeworld and worlds of his nation had millions of Terran Uplifted Primates as citizens. He had grown up knowing, respecting, and having affectionate relations with many of the Primates of the Overqueens.
It would complicate things that the Human-Mantid War was within living memory for millions of the Terrans.
Still, Violet enjoyed a challenge. It was merely a challenge to his overarching goal.
Finding common ground for the returning Solarian Military Directorate and the rest of the Confederacy.
Violet found the outrage that Terrans felt at the idea of the consent of the deceased being revoked for 'Needs' to be perfectly understandable, logical, and a sign of empathy.
The threats of violence were not because they did not see the others as equals.
It was because those equals were attempting to strip away one of the driving motives of the Terrans.
Consent.
Looking through the historical timeline on his dataslate, Violet looked over the times that advanced nations had revoked consent through various machinations.
It always ended in bloodshed.
Well, not entirely. Sometimes it ended at the voting box.
He found it interesting that in the Hamburger Kingdom, a being's consent could be revoked if they were nominated for public office, which was treated more like a punishment than anything else. In The Celestial Kingdom lands consent was guarded by the Emperor, who ensured the rapacious and scheming Lesser Divines could not strip away the consent of the Beloved Ones, which was the name for the common person.
The vehicle slowed, moving through heavily armed checkpoints.
There were already protestors waving signs telling him to leave or die.
That was all right. He had experienced that before.
"We will ensure your security is at high alert at all times," The leader of his personal guard said.
Violet just nodded as the limo moved onto the secure estate grounds. It came to a stop and a Terran military warborg opened the door carefully.
"We have arrive, sir," the warborg stated.
"Indeed," Violet said, climbing out of the limo.
He breathed deep, slowly, as he headed for the diplomatic residence.
He had a lot of work to do.
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Oops.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Oops? What's oops?
Define "oops", sis.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Nothing. It's fine. It'll be fine.
...
...
Probably.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
LANAKTALLAN FREE HERD
Not precisely an explanation that inspires confidence. The last 'oops' we had, an entire stellar system exploded.
Define 'oops', if you would.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
It's fine. It's all fine. We're not at war. All good.
We're all good here. We have a-a oops here, uh, now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Uh, little oops, not very dangerous.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
RIGEL
We're at war on several fronts, what do you mean we-
Wait. Is this about TerraSol? I thought you were sending diplomats to talk to them.
WHAT DID YOU DO?!
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
I did send diplomats! One of our best! You've all met him. He's perfect for the job.
He's one of the best, highly skilled.
It's just... I might have forgotten that he's a Speaker...
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
You sent. A speaker. To TerraSol.
A speaker.
To a TerraSol that is already jumpier than a hatchling after six cones.
To a TerraSol that is manifestly angry.
To a TerraSol that has probably invalidated most of our war fighting tech and techniques in the last five decades while they've been in The Bag and we've had a thirty thousand and some odd year head start?
The same ones who wrote "AVENGE US DOT DOC"?
You sent a speaker there?
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ----
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Yes. Look, it's fine. He's still alive. We haven't had a second incident. Just... close, is all.
The Terrans calmed down.
So, you know...
Oops.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
RIGEL
Oops indeed.
At least a couple hundred systems aren't burning.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS---
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]
"Any other species having been all but wiped out would eventually die. Even if they had the numbers for a genetically stable population, depression and ennui would carry them away.
"The Mad Lemurs of Terra though, they looked it as just one more thing to scream and rave against.
"None of us should have been surprised they returned."- Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff
Sitting on the armored limousine, Violet Flowers Line Paths to Peace watched as the vehicle left the spaceport. He was looking around at everything, taking in what people were wearing, what they were doing. Vehicles, air traffic, everything.
Any other planet that Violet had been too, the Empire of Kitira would be seen as hyper-aggressive, prone to violence, and a powder keg waiting to happen. The fact that the majority of citizens were armed. There were air defense positions everywhere around the star port, with, from what Violet's limited military knowledge told him, extensive sensor systems and targeting systems.
The road showed waving fields of grain and vegetables. He was surprised to see that the fields were being worked by actual people, in brightly colored clothing, rather than robots.
When he saw the sign, which his contact lens translated for him, it suddenly made sense.
"NAKASERO TRADITIONAL FRESH PRODUCE!" as well as "WHY EAT NUTRIFORGE WHEN YOU CAN EAT TRADITIONAL FOODS?" was hand painted on a wooden sign. There were women in bright clothing carrying baskets of woven fiber filled with vegetables. They would move to very modern vehicles before placing the baskets in the back seat.
They do not have to live such lives, they choose to, he thought.
He had studied the nutriforge, creation engine, and matter forge. It was a Terran invention, from even before they managed to achieve superluminal flight They had managed to crack the riddle of energy to mass, mass to energy, with minimal loss during the transfer. As near as he could tell they managed to achieve matter transmission at roughly the same time.
He nodded as he saw another produce area go by. This time it was healthy trees heavily laden with fruit, with living people tending to it, all in the same types of outfits.
The nutriforge freed billions from the work to eat cycle, yet they have people out working to create food, he thought.
More heavily armed citizens.
None of them seemed too curious about the stingwings flying low and slow, the grav strikers, or the armored convoy. Sure, a few people stared for a moment or two, but the majority seemed to just glance then go back to what they were doing.
The vehicles got on a highway.
Armored convoys appeared to be standard. He saw more than a few go by, all of them with heavy security. Some were labeled, personal, political, or corporate. Others were blank, or just had security services on them.
Even individual vehicles seemed heavily armored and armed.
He remembered the sign from the starport.
"BEYOND THIS POINT, YOU HAVE CONSENTED TO BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY"
He had checked.
Earth, Terra, whatever name (He was fond of Tellus), was not a single unified nation that encompassed the planet.
Instead, it was nation states, some of which still competing along esoteric definitions. Some of them were actively at war to the point that there were no less than eleven ongoing conflicts involving military forces.
He had looked. During the fifty years that Terra had been in the Bag, Terra had gone from 123 nation states to 85 back up to 90, down to 87, up to 113, down to 92, and was now at 126 nation states.
Civil wars, absorbing other nations through armed conflict, balkanization, and other means of splitting and combining.
It seemed to be a fairly frequent occurrence on Tallus, for nations to divide, combine, even return from history. There were more than a few nations that were destroyed through warfare or absorbed by their neighbors that then returned.
Violet was glad that he had examined Dreams memoir on her time on Tellus, as well as observations of other leaders
Terrans were adept at conflict, to other observers and their writing it appeared to be a Terran's natural state.
Violet had looked over Tellus history books as his craft had moved in, understanding their history meant everything.
He realized his mistake now.
For the rest of the universe, it was over thirty thousand years, over forty thousand years, since the brutal war between Tellus and a variant Hive of Mantid. He had noted to himself to read up on that conflict as well as communicate with Hive Home diplomatic services to find out exactly what had happened.
Not the official story, but the reality.
He knew how it was easier to let records fade away that contained embarassing facts.
It was never easy to admit that your entire species had been wrong, had been terrible, had been evil.
He knew the shame.
His own people had a dark time, when the original Omniqueen had taken them over after they had found the way to enlightment. How the Omniqueen and her servants had devoured so many of his people's friends. How only a carefully orchestrated rebellion and stellar geometry had allowed them to break free of the Omniqueen.
He carried a slight bit of shame.
Speakers, in antiquity, were powerful psychics, flush with phasic energy. They could control entire planets through their mastery of psychic energy and psychic domination.
That was then.
Over the millions of years his people had changed.
This is now.
No longer could he reach out. No longer could he exert his will over others.
He was truly a Speaker. He spoke for even the smallest of the castes, spoke for the voiceless, spoke in the voice of the Overqueen.
But he could not put his thoughts into the minds of others.
For tens of millions of years, his kind could hear others.
But they used their voice to speak.
It was an honor to be a Speaker. To use his voice to speak for those who used psychic powers to speak. To be able to arbitrate between peoples who could not hear one another due to psychic wavelengths without invading their mind.
The silence and privacy of one's own mind was paramount.
Eloquence was a gift from the universe to the Speakers of his people.
He turned from his musing, watching the fertile land sweep by as the ship approached the city of Captain Alex's Rest. The skyrakers were lit up, lights twinkling. It looked almost like a fairy tale city. Holograms flickered and danced, making it look like the city was sparkling.
He nodded to himself.
He had dealt with primates before. They could be touchy, but usually they were placid, slow to move, slow to anger. The ones that were not usually never got beyond hunter-gatherer or destroyed themselves, at the latest, in an orgy of atomic hellfire.
Not the Terrans.
He looked down at his datapad, checking the updated information. The files from Smokey Cone and Hivehome had arrived during the ride.
Petabytes of data.
He sighed and looked back out of the window.
There would be complaints lodged by his staff toward Diplomatic Services once he arrived at his lodging. It was an unacceptable oversight that Diplomatic Services had sent him completely unprepared beyond a scant few biographies and documentaries. While others may point at the tens of thousands of years that had gone by, Mantid and Lanaktallan and Treana'ad databases handled millions, tens of millions of years of data without losing it due to file degredation.
True, the Lanaktallan databases had issues with file indexing due to the sheer amount of data they kept, but it should have been easy to get the data Violet had needed.
The city was busy, with a dizzying array of colorful or drab clothing. He saw beings of many different species on the streets.
He idly wondered if skin, hair, or eye color denoted castes to the Terrans.
A quick check showed that in antiquity it had.
Ah, yes, the 'The Other Syndrome', many species suffered under it, he thought, reading some it.
Again, he noted how Terran history was full of impossibilities.
He had been made aware of Terran temporal warfare countermeasures. He had been aware of the fact that the Terrans did not care that it might not be their true history, it was true to them and that was all that mattered.
This is going to be difficult, he thought to himself.
His datapad beeped and Violet looked down at it.
The Diplomatic Corps had decided that his datapad was secure and his security clearances were high enough for a file marked immediate priority to be sent to him.
He read it.
He read it again.
And again.
The file detailed what the actual problem was.
He had been sent due to the fact that the Terrans had been in The Bag for over thirty thousand years local for the rest of the galaxy, but only fifty local for them. That when they had vanished into The Bag, the enemy had been the Lanaktallan and the Atrekna (now extinct), as well as the Unified Council and the Precursor Autonomous War Machines.
Now the enemy was the Mar-gite, whoever was facillitating them, two unknown groups, and a handful of smaller, newer, aggressive and energetic species on the fringes of Confederate Space, usually in the Long Dark.
The real reason for the diplomatic urgency was, well, to put it in layman's terms...
mind blowing.
He had read about the Terran rebirth system, largely considered to be a legend or a myth by most beings. That a dead human could be resurrected via a neural mapping copy within minutes or hours.
Recently, upon leaving The Bag, the TerraSol Gestalt had let it slip that the system to perform neural mapping and impressing for Terrans had been applied to all the other races. That trillions of non-Terran beings were in what was being listed as "AFTERLIFE (SUDS)" and "AFTERLIFE (ACTIVE)", dwelling in some kind of user specific paradise with full interaction.
Several Gestalts, and soon afterwards, governments demanded access to the dead. Many wanted them to solve problems, to give interviews to curious academics, to answer for crimes (real or imagined), to solve manpower shortages.
The TerraSol Gestalt, and the Solarian government refused.
Violet nodded. He agreed with the assessment that what was desired was nothing more than slavery.
He agreed with the meme that showed someone living miserably, dying, and a government worker pulling them out of the grave and putting them back to work in misery. Many of the memes ended with "Not even death is a respite. What do you have to lose?"
He nodded. That was understandable. In some nation-states, the government had become malevolent. The idea that you could not escape, even in death, from state enforced bondage, was horrifying. The ethical implications were staggering.
Violet understood their anger. Not personally, not based on personal experience, but intellectually and through observation.
A being could be brought back again and again to serve 'the needs of the People/State' and their work would never be finished.
It was eternal slavery.
The datacomp beeped and he checked it. His arrival and his image had appeared on social media sites despite the attempt at a blackout. Many Terrans were upset that he was present on Tellus. A few of the memes and postings referred to fighting in the Human-Mantid War. Many of those were aggressive toward his person.
Violet thought about it as the car entered the city itself.
From what he had read on the Sentience Uninterrupted Disaster System, those beings may have been killed during the Human-Mantid War and just recently rebirthed.
Their memories of a war over forty-thousand years ago for him were only years old.
Violet made an annotation on his datapad to give a speech that would state that his Hive had never encountered Terrans before. Terran Descent Primates, yes.
His homeworld and worlds of his nation had millions of Terran Uplifted Primates as citizens. He had grown up knowing, respecting, and having affectionate relations with many of the Primates of the Overqueens.
It would complicate things that the Human-Mantid War was within living memory for millions of the Terrans.
Still, Violet enjoyed a challenge. It was merely a challenge to his overarching goal.
Finding common ground for the returning Solarian Military Directorate and the rest of the Confederacy.
Violet found the outrage that Terrans felt at the idea of the consent of the deceased being revoked for 'Needs' to be perfectly understandable, logical, and a sign of empathy.
The threats of violence were not because they did not see the others as equals.
It was because those equals were attempting to strip away one of the driving motives of the Terrans.
Consent.
Looking through the historical timeline on his dataslate, Violet looked over the times that advanced nations had revoked consent through various machinations.
It always ended in bloodshed.
Well, not entirely. Sometimes it ended at the voting box.
He found it interesting that in the Hamburger Kingdom, a being's consent could be revoked if they were nominated for public office, which was treated more like a punishment than anything else. In The Celestial Kingdom lands consent was guarded by the Emperor, who ensured the rapacious and scheming Lesser Divines could not strip away the consent of the Beloved Ones, which was the name for the common person.
The vehicle slowed, moving through heavily armed checkpoints.
There were already protestors waving signs telling him to leave or die.
That was all right. He had experienced that before.
"We will ensure your security is at high alert at all times," The leader of his personal guard said.
Violet just nodded as the limo moved onto the secure estate grounds. It came to a stop and a Terran military warborg opened the door carefully.
"We have arrive, sir," the warborg stated.
"Indeed," Violet said, climbing out of the limo.
He breathed deep, slowly, as he headed for the diplomatic residence.
He had a lot of work to do.
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Oops.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Oops? What's oops?
Define "oops", sis.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Nothing. It's fine. It'll be fine.
...
...
Probably.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
LANAKTALLAN FREE HERD
Not precisely an explanation that inspires confidence. The last 'oops' we had, an entire stellar system exploded.
Define 'oops', if you would.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
It's fine. It's all fine. We're not at war. All good.
We're all good here. We have a-a oops here, uh, now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Uh, little oops, not very dangerous.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
RIGEL
We're at war on several fronts, what do you mean we-
Wait. Is this about TerraSol? I thought you were sending diplomats to talk to them.
WHAT DID YOU DO?!
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
I did send diplomats! One of our best! You've all met him. He's perfect for the job.
He's one of the best, highly skilled.
It's just... I might have forgotten that he's a Speaker...
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
You sent. A speaker. To TerraSol.
A speaker.
To a TerraSol that is already jumpier than a hatchling after six cones.
To a TerraSol that is manifestly angry.
To a TerraSol that has probably invalidated most of our war fighting tech and techniques in the last five decades while they've been in The Bag and we've had a thirty thousand and some odd year head start?
The same ones who wrote "AVENGE US DOT DOC"?
You sent a speaker there?
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS ----
HAT WEARING AUNTIE
Yes. Look, it's fine. He's still alive. We haven't had a second incident. Just... close, is all.
The Terrans calmed down.
So, you know...
Oops.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS ---
RIGEL
Oops indeed.
At least a couple hundred systems aren't burning.
--- NOTHING FOLLOWS---
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2024.04.26 07:03 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 54
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"A human is born in pain. They live in pain. They die in pain.
"And they're willing to inflict that pain thrice upon anyone who they determine to be the enemy.
"Because the enemy exists only to be destroyed." - Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from his autobiogrpahy entitled: I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff, New Telkan Press, Post Second Precursor War
Mantids were often known for poetic names, and he was no exception. With the name Violet Flowers Line Paths to Peace, and he had recently brokered a peace deal between several long time warring faction of Telkan in the Telkan Systems. He had brought an end to a six hundred year on again off again war that had consumed millions but had never outright moved to total war. All parties had been satisfied and felt that the deal was more than fair and all factions had come away better off than they had been.
Part of the senior diplomatic negotiators for the Confederacy of Aligned Systems Diplomatic Corps, Violet had dealt with some of the most dangerous beings and organization in the galactic spur and managed to bring about peace between all of the factions.
Even more impressive, people of all species genuinely liked him.
The flotilla that carried him and his diplomatic team had been in hyperspace when everyone had heard it.
LET THE UNIVERSE SHAKE IN THE WRATH OF TERRASOL
The flotilla had immediately dropped from hyperspace and then made a least-time journey to the nearest friendly system with a needlecaster. It had been a trip of less than 40 hours. He had immediately communicated to Diplomatic Services that he was standing by and that he would make a least-time hyperspace multi-leg route toward the TerraSol Restricted Zone.
Sixty hours ago he had been in an older system, at the edge of old TerraSol Restricted Space. His diplomatic flotilla around the outer gas giant, taking on mass, when he had received an urgent communique.
TERMINATE ALL CURRENT AND FUTURE EFFORTS AND ASSIGNEMENTS
STAND BY FOR NEW ASSIGNMENT
He had to admit, he had been somewhat apprehensive.
Worrying, Violet had returned to his quarters to watch H'Relp the Moo Moo Tender Power Hour and eat popcorn, trying not to worry about what this next assignment would be.
When the orders were brought to him, he raised an antenna and knew that he was about to face the most challenging assignment of his career.
Of any diplomat's career.
He was to proceed immediately to TerraSol. He would engage in diplomatic negotiations after an international incident, as well as the current geopolitical landscape, had led to TerraSol withdrawing from the Gestalt system as well as closing the gates on what few embassies that they had already staffed.
The first thing Violet did was request from "We Live Here Now and Enjoy This Place as a Bastion of Goodness" home-system all data from the last decade of Confederate/Terran interactions.
Records were nearly eighteen hours returning, via priority needlecast.
True, the station resented that his diplomatic authority gave him near total exclusive access to the needlecaster, but a few overtures and concessions in authority ensured that the station personnel felt as if it was to their benefit that his diplomatic team was using their needlecaster.
The big one was he ordered his flotilla to upgrade and perform maintenance on the needlecaster so that it could serve his needs, taking it from the Diplomatic Corps' budget rather than the system's budget.
Once he had the relative data, transmitted from the venerable Free Mantid States "Hive Home", he began to peruse it even as the flotilla got underway again.
The most pertinent data was from a Gold Caste mantid from Diplomatic Services, during the opening phases of the Confederacy/Council Conflict over forty-thousand years prior.
He watched Dreams of Something More's personal logs, paying close attention to her details on TerraSol and Terran Descent Humans. He admired her abdominal wrap, the robe she wore on her thorax, her love of interesting looking hats, and her attitude.
She had toured TerraSol before her deployment to the Lanaktallan Council territory.
He paid personal attention to the data on Terrans.
They were a primate species. Extremely aggressive in all areas, including scientific and technological advancement. They alternated between hyperviolence and overwhelming pacifist attitudes.
He took note of Dreams's observation that polling 10,000 Terrans would give you 11,001 opinions.
It became obvious that he would have to be careful. The Terrans had been xenocided during a war for survival against the Lost Precursor Species. The survivors scattered across the galaxy and now lost. Their homeworld, home system, had been turned into a prison.
They had been trapped for just over fifty years while nearly 40,000 years had gone by for the rest of the universe.
That meant that Mantid diplomatic envoys present in the TerraSol system would be trained and experienced.
Those were his best resource, if he could convince them to work with him and if they had not gone native.
However, examining *Dreams of Something More'*s biography and writings, 'going native' appeared to be unaviodable when dealing with Terran Descent Humans.
He made note of that, also.
The flotilla dropped from hyperspace only eight light-days from the Solarian System. It received instructions, to be followed to the letter, for the hyperspace microjumps they were to make to approach TerraSol.
Violet nodded. The Terrans would be wary, still on wartime footing for a war that had only been a few decades behind them and they could not be sure was not still raging when they came out.
He instructed the diplomatic team to be as passive as possible.
His guards were told to keep their weapons in storage mode and unloaded, with the breaches open to show that there were no rounds in the chamber.
He examined the images of the planets as his ship made the sixty hour trip to TerraSol.
The ninth planet appeared to be wrapped in huge chains, with large canyons with lava burning in the depths. It was named after a Terran religious figure who ruled the underworld as well as a strange looking canine owned by an anthropomorphic mouse.
The gas giants were blurry to his ship's sensors, evidence of heavy masking. He stood in an observation blister and stared at the nearest one. It glimmered and gleamed.
Either extraction yards or shipyards.
He was willing to bet both.
The satellite of Terra was massive, named Luna. Lights glimmered on the surface, whole cities on the surface, uncaring of the vacuum.
Terra itself was lit up. The population metrics were odd, with over a billion Lanaktallan in residence as full citizens.
When he saw that one was a politician, he looked up footage.
It was a Hamburger Kingdom Senate session, debating on whether or not Terra should involve itself in the current war against the Mar-gite. A Senator was claiming that it would be centuries before the Mar-gite could threaten Earth (Another name for Terra, it seemed to have nearly 30 names, some quite poetic) so there was no reason to engage in the conflict.
The Lanaktallan signaled that he wished to speak and was granted five minutes.
The Lanaktallan, one Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd, stood up and stated: "Allow me to present my constituents' rebuttal" as the other Senator smirked.
The Lanaktallan drew a pistol from the holster at his waist and began shooting at the other Senator, who dove behind a table.
After eight shots, the Lanaktallan sat down.
"I cede my time and further ammunition to the next speaker," he stated.
That required hours of examination.
Violet was somewhat shocked to see that duels with swords, bladearms, knives, bare hands, pistols, even high speed vehicle races, were common methods of resolving disagreements all over TerraSol.
Still, he was glad when the flotilla was given permission to land.
He made sure he was wearing a Charlie the Moo Moo abdominal wrap, a jacket from "Jak the Telkan" series clothing line, nifty boots with curled toes that had bells on the curls, as well as a Moo Moo Tender hat.
He informed his staff to dress comfortably but professionally as the ship's captain sounded the all-clear.
True, the Captain had had misgivings at the amount of firepower surrounding the ship, but Violet was sure it was just precautionary, born of having been imprisoned during the war tens of thousands of years ago.
The ramp lowered and Violet motioned his subordinates forward.
"Show no aggression, even if you are subjected to primate threat displays," Violet said. "There has been a grave diplomatic mistake and international incident. Let us not compound problems."
His guards nodded.
The black mantids rushed down the ramp, taking up positions. They didn't like that they were only allowed their bladearms free, their weapons locked down behind their backs. Still, they gathered up in the traditional formation to protect the ship.
Large Terran warborgs moved up to face the black mantids.
Violet nodded. Just like the historical documentaries and Dreams of Something More's writings. He had to admit, they were more fearsome appearing in person than on video.
He adjusted the psychic shielding headband under his hat to ensure he was properly protected. All of the documentation had warned of Terran psychic power, both the strength and the unpredictability of it.
The golds moved down next. They moved up and the Terran Descent Human diplomatic team moved forward.
Violet listened as the greetings were exchanged.
The Terrans were glad to see the golds.
The golds were glad to see the Terrans.
The Terrans hoped the current difficulties could be dealt with in a professional and civilized manner.
The golds agreed and hoped their efforts would enable such a resolution.
The Terrans asked if the golds were ready to go someplace more conducive to diplomatic negotiations.
The golds deferred, instead making an introduction.
"Presenting, the lead diplomatic, Senior Diplomatic Attaché and Plenipotentiary, Violet Flowers Line the Path to Peace," the head of the Gold delegation stated, making a sweeping gesture with her bladearms.
Violet motioned for his guards to flank and follow him and moved down the ramp.
The effect of his appearance was immediate.
The warborgs all went to live weapons. Half of them went down on one knee, deploying heavy weapons. Sensors, lasers, and ranging devices painted over Violet and his guards.
"SPEAKER!" the lead Terran delegate bellowed out, grabbing for the pistol on his hip.
"WARRIORS!" someone else yelled.
"What?" Violet asked, turning around. "What?"
Stingwings were taking off, weapons were deploying to aim at the ship. Warborgs were changing position, taking up obvious offensive and defensive positions. The entire Terran Descent Human delegation had drawn weapons or were getting behind warborgs which were moving forward.
Violet shrunk back, confusion and fear filling him.
"I don't udnerstand, what did I do?" he asked, his antenna and legs trembling.
"DON'T FUCKING MOVE, BUG!" the lead Terran diplomat shouted, leveling a pistol at him. "I'LL FUCKING SPLATTER YOU, I SWEAR ON DAXIN'S WARSTEEL BALLS!"
"What did I do?" Violet asked. He waved at the warriors. "Please, my bladearms and hands up, there has been some misunderstanding."
Violet felt fear and dismay, his gut churning, as dismay filled him. His very appearance was causing the Terrans to react violently.
"Please, I have done nothing, there's no need for violence," Violet said, holding his bladearms and hands up.
For a long moment the only sound was the hum of grav-lifters and the sounds of birds.
"You're a fucking speaker," the lead Terran Diplomat said, his voice harsh and full of barely restrained violence. "Surrounded by Menhit cursed Warriors. On Terra."
"Yes," Violet said. "I am a fully accredited diplomat, originally hailing from the We Live Here Now and Enjoy This Place as a Bastion of Goodness systems before entering the Confederate Diplomatic Corps and being assigned to Diplomatic Services. I bring the greeting of the Confederacy of Aligned Systems, which you knew as the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems."
"Do you have any idea what happened here?" the lead diplomat said, his voice sounding like he was speaking with grinding plates.
"The Terran Xenocide Event and the events of the Second Precursor War sealed you in here after sustaining a full frontal attack by the Lanaktallan Unified Council's martial forces," Violet said. "May my guards and I lower our hands and bladearms?"
"We aren't worried about your hands or bladearms," the diplomat said. "We remember what Speakers can do."
"I am capable of listening to the other castes and collate their concerns, desires, and wishes to the Overqueens. I act as both the voice of the Queens and the voice of the common Mantid," Violet said. He combed his antenna. "My abilities are honed well enough I can listen to an immature green mantid worker caste tell me that the school is stealing the good turkey gravy for themselves and billing his parents."
The diplomat blinked slowly. "That's not how we saw you last."
Violet nodded, suddenly understanding. "Oh, you refer to the Human-Mantid War. The First and Second intergalactic conflicts between your two nations."
The human nodded.
Violet combed his antenna. "Such a terrible thing," he said softly. "To be led astray by your own queen, who you have entrusted with your very soul. To have queens and speakers feed upon your misery, that they inflict, rather than share in your joy and bliss of living a life full of wonder and safety."
He shook his head. "We too, my people, labored under such a terrible Omniqueen. A fearsome and terrible being, who enslaved our queens, who devoured our people, who literally feasted upon the flesh of the species that were our friends."
Two of the warriors nodded.
"We had moved past such vileness, when the Omniqueen arrived and enslaved us," Violet said softly. "Only, unlike the Mantid of Mantid Prime, we had no Terrans to liberate us through force of arms," he made sure to flash symbols of sorrow and embarrassment between his antenna and with his body language. "My ancestors fought, bitterly, against the tyranny of the Omniqueen and only stellar geometry saved us. Not just the Mantid, but our friends too."
The guns were lowering.
"If my presence is disturbing to your people, I can withdraw," he pointed at the lead gold mantid. "Finds Peace in the Maelstrom is perfectly capable of acting as an intermediary between our people."
The diplomat stood for a long moment. Finally he inhaled slowly and let the breath out all in a rush.
Violet knew that what the Terran had done signified he had made a difficult decision that he might regret later and felt anxiety that the decision might be a critical error.
"Things have changed outside The Bag," he said slowly. He motioned and the warborgs stepped back. The scanning and targeting systems switched off. "Your name is Violet then?"
Violet nodded. "Yes, and I greet you."
"I greet you too."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]
"A human is born in pain. They live in pain. They die in pain.
"And they're willing to inflict that pain thrice upon anyone who they determine to be the enemy.
"Because the enemy exists only to be destroyed." - Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from his autobiogrpahy entitled: I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff, New Telkan Press, Post Second Precursor War
Mantids were often known for poetic names, and he was no exception. With the name Violet Flowers Line Paths to Peace, and he had recently brokered a peace deal between several long time warring faction of Telkan in the Telkan Systems. He had brought an end to a six hundred year on again off again war that had consumed millions but had never outright moved to total war. All parties had been satisfied and felt that the deal was more than fair and all factions had come away better off than they had been.
Part of the senior diplomatic negotiators for the Confederacy of Aligned Systems Diplomatic Corps, Violet had dealt with some of the most dangerous beings and organization in the galactic spur and managed to bring about peace between all of the factions.
Even more impressive, people of all species genuinely liked him.
The flotilla that carried him and his diplomatic team had been in hyperspace when everyone had heard it.
LET THE UNIVERSE SHAKE IN THE WRATH OF TERRASOL
The flotilla had immediately dropped from hyperspace and then made a least-time journey to the nearest friendly system with a needlecaster. It had been a trip of less than 40 hours. He had immediately communicated to Diplomatic Services that he was standing by and that he would make a least-time hyperspace multi-leg route toward the TerraSol Restricted Zone.
Sixty hours ago he had been in an older system, at the edge of old TerraSol Restricted Space. His diplomatic flotilla around the outer gas giant, taking on mass, when he had received an urgent communique.
TERMINATE ALL CURRENT AND FUTURE EFFORTS AND ASSIGNEMENTS
STAND BY FOR NEW ASSIGNMENT
He had to admit, he had been somewhat apprehensive.
Worrying, Violet had returned to his quarters to watch H'Relp the Moo Moo Tender Power Hour and eat popcorn, trying not to worry about what this next assignment would be.
When the orders were brought to him, he raised an antenna and knew that he was about to face the most challenging assignment of his career.
Of any diplomat's career.
He was to proceed immediately to TerraSol. He would engage in diplomatic negotiations after an international incident, as well as the current geopolitical landscape, had led to TerraSol withdrawing from the Gestalt system as well as closing the gates on what few embassies that they had already staffed.
The first thing Violet did was request from "We Live Here Now and Enjoy This Place as a Bastion of Goodness" home-system all data from the last decade of Confederate/Terran interactions.
Records were nearly eighteen hours returning, via priority needlecast.
True, the station resented that his diplomatic authority gave him near total exclusive access to the needlecaster, but a few overtures and concessions in authority ensured that the station personnel felt as if it was to their benefit that his diplomatic team was using their needlecaster.
The big one was he ordered his flotilla to upgrade and perform maintenance on the needlecaster so that it could serve his needs, taking it from the Diplomatic Corps' budget rather than the system's budget.
Once he had the relative data, transmitted from the venerable Free Mantid States "Hive Home", he began to peruse it even as the flotilla got underway again.
The most pertinent data was from a Gold Caste mantid from Diplomatic Services, during the opening phases of the Confederacy/Council Conflict over forty-thousand years prior.
He watched Dreams of Something More's personal logs, paying close attention to her details on TerraSol and Terran Descent Humans. He admired her abdominal wrap, the robe she wore on her thorax, her love of interesting looking hats, and her attitude.
She had toured TerraSol before her deployment to the Lanaktallan Council territory.
He paid personal attention to the data on Terrans.
They were a primate species. Extremely aggressive in all areas, including scientific and technological advancement. They alternated between hyperviolence and overwhelming pacifist attitudes.
He took note of Dreams's observation that polling 10,000 Terrans would give you 11,001 opinions.
It became obvious that he would have to be careful. The Terrans had been xenocided during a war for survival against the Lost Precursor Species. The survivors scattered across the galaxy and now lost. Their homeworld, home system, had been turned into a prison.
They had been trapped for just over fifty years while nearly 40,000 years had gone by for the rest of the universe.
That meant that Mantid diplomatic envoys present in the TerraSol system would be trained and experienced.
Those were his best resource, if he could convince them to work with him and if they had not gone native.
However, examining *Dreams of Something More'*s biography and writings, 'going native' appeared to be unaviodable when dealing with Terran Descent Humans.
He made note of that, also.
The flotilla dropped from hyperspace only eight light-days from the Solarian System. It received instructions, to be followed to the letter, for the hyperspace microjumps they were to make to approach TerraSol.
Violet nodded. The Terrans would be wary, still on wartime footing for a war that had only been a few decades behind them and they could not be sure was not still raging when they came out.
He instructed the diplomatic team to be as passive as possible.
His guards were told to keep their weapons in storage mode and unloaded, with the breaches open to show that there were no rounds in the chamber.
He examined the images of the planets as his ship made the sixty hour trip to TerraSol.
The ninth planet appeared to be wrapped in huge chains, with large canyons with lava burning in the depths. It was named after a Terran religious figure who ruled the underworld as well as a strange looking canine owned by an anthropomorphic mouse.
The gas giants were blurry to his ship's sensors, evidence of heavy masking. He stood in an observation blister and stared at the nearest one. It glimmered and gleamed.
Either extraction yards or shipyards.
He was willing to bet both.
The satellite of Terra was massive, named Luna. Lights glimmered on the surface, whole cities on the surface, uncaring of the vacuum.
Terra itself was lit up. The population metrics were odd, with over a billion Lanaktallan in residence as full citizens.
When he saw that one was a politician, he looked up footage.
It was a Hamburger Kingdom Senate session, debating on whether or not Terra should involve itself in the current war against the Mar-gite. A Senator was claiming that it would be centuries before the Mar-gite could threaten Earth (Another name for Terra, it seemed to have nearly 30 names, some quite poetic) so there was no reason to engage in the conflict.
The Lanaktallan signaled that he wished to speak and was granted five minutes.
The Lanaktallan, one Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd, stood up and stated: "Allow me to present my constituents' rebuttal" as the other Senator smirked.
The Lanaktallan drew a pistol from the holster at his waist and began shooting at the other Senator, who dove behind a table.
After eight shots, the Lanaktallan sat down.
"I cede my time and further ammunition to the next speaker," he stated.
That required hours of examination.
Violet was somewhat shocked to see that duels with swords, bladearms, knives, bare hands, pistols, even high speed vehicle races, were common methods of resolving disagreements all over TerraSol.
Still, he was glad when the flotilla was given permission to land.
He made sure he was wearing a Charlie the Moo Moo abdominal wrap, a jacket from "Jak the Telkan" series clothing line, nifty boots with curled toes that had bells on the curls, as well as a Moo Moo Tender hat.
He informed his staff to dress comfortably but professionally as the ship's captain sounded the all-clear.
True, the Captain had had misgivings at the amount of firepower surrounding the ship, but Violet was sure it was just precautionary, born of having been imprisoned during the war tens of thousands of years ago.
The ramp lowered and Violet motioned his subordinates forward.
"Show no aggression, even if you are subjected to primate threat displays," Violet said. "There has been a grave diplomatic mistake and international incident. Let us not compound problems."
His guards nodded.
The black mantids rushed down the ramp, taking up positions. They didn't like that they were only allowed their bladearms free, their weapons locked down behind their backs. Still, they gathered up in the traditional formation to protect the ship.
Large Terran warborgs moved up to face the black mantids.
Violet nodded. Just like the historical documentaries and Dreams of Something More's writings. He had to admit, they were more fearsome appearing in person than on video.
He adjusted the psychic shielding headband under his hat to ensure he was properly protected. All of the documentation had warned of Terran psychic power, both the strength and the unpredictability of it.
The golds moved down next. They moved up and the Terran Descent Human diplomatic team moved forward.
Violet listened as the greetings were exchanged.
The Terrans were glad to see the golds.
The golds were glad to see the Terrans.
The Terrans hoped the current difficulties could be dealt with in a professional and civilized manner.
The golds agreed and hoped their efforts would enable such a resolution.
The Terrans asked if the golds were ready to go someplace more conducive to diplomatic negotiations.
The golds deferred, instead making an introduction.
"Presenting, the lead diplomatic, Senior Diplomatic Attaché and Plenipotentiary, Violet Flowers Line the Path to Peace," the head of the Gold delegation stated, making a sweeping gesture with her bladearms.
Violet motioned for his guards to flank and follow him and moved down the ramp.
The effect of his appearance was immediate.
The warborgs all went to live weapons. Half of them went down on one knee, deploying heavy weapons. Sensors, lasers, and ranging devices painted over Violet and his guards.
"SPEAKER!" the lead Terran delegate bellowed out, grabbing for the pistol on his hip.
"WARRIORS!" someone else yelled.
"What?" Violet asked, turning around. "What?"
Stingwings were taking off, weapons were deploying to aim at the ship. Warborgs were changing position, taking up obvious offensive and defensive positions. The entire Terran Descent Human delegation had drawn weapons or were getting behind warborgs which were moving forward.
Violet shrunk back, confusion and fear filling him.
"I don't udnerstand, what did I do?" he asked, his antenna and legs trembling.
"DON'T FUCKING MOVE, BUG!" the lead Terran diplomat shouted, leveling a pistol at him. "I'LL FUCKING SPLATTER YOU, I SWEAR ON DAXIN'S WARSTEEL BALLS!"
"What did I do?" Violet asked. He waved at the warriors. "Please, my bladearms and hands up, there has been some misunderstanding."
Violet felt fear and dismay, his gut churning, as dismay filled him. His very appearance was causing the Terrans to react violently.
"Please, I have done nothing, there's no need for violence," Violet said, holding his bladearms and hands up.
For a long moment the only sound was the hum of grav-lifters and the sounds of birds.
"You're a fucking speaker," the lead Terran Diplomat said, his voice harsh and full of barely restrained violence. "Surrounded by Menhit cursed Warriors. On Terra."
"Yes," Violet said. "I am a fully accredited diplomat, originally hailing from the We Live Here Now and Enjoy This Place as a Bastion of Goodness systems before entering the Confederate Diplomatic Corps and being assigned to Diplomatic Services. I bring the greeting of the Confederacy of Aligned Systems, which you knew as the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems."
"Do you have any idea what happened here?" the lead diplomat said, his voice sounding like he was speaking with grinding plates.
"The Terran Xenocide Event and the events of the Second Precursor War sealed you in here after sustaining a full frontal attack by the Lanaktallan Unified Council's martial forces," Violet said. "May my guards and I lower our hands and bladearms?"
"We aren't worried about your hands or bladearms," the diplomat said. "We remember what Speakers can do."
"I am capable of listening to the other castes and collate their concerns, desires, and wishes to the Overqueens. I act as both the voice of the Queens and the voice of the common Mantid," Violet said. He combed his antenna. "My abilities are honed well enough I can listen to an immature green mantid worker caste tell me that the school is stealing the good turkey gravy for themselves and billing his parents."
The diplomat blinked slowly. "That's not how we saw you last."
Violet nodded, suddenly understanding. "Oh, you refer to the Human-Mantid War. The First and Second intergalactic conflicts between your two nations."
The human nodded.
Violet combed his antenna. "Such a terrible thing," he said softly. "To be led astray by your own queen, who you have entrusted with your very soul. To have queens and speakers feed upon your misery, that they inflict, rather than share in your joy and bliss of living a life full of wonder and safety."
He shook his head. "We too, my people, labored under such a terrible Omniqueen. A fearsome and terrible being, who enslaved our queens, who devoured our people, who literally feasted upon the flesh of the species that were our friends."
Two of the warriors nodded.
"We had moved past such vileness, when the Omniqueen arrived and enslaved us," Violet said softly. "Only, unlike the Mantid of Mantid Prime, we had no Terrans to liberate us through force of arms," he made sure to flash symbols of sorrow and embarrassment between his antenna and with his body language. "My ancestors fought, bitterly, against the tyranny of the Omniqueen and only stellar geometry saved us. Not just the Mantid, but our friends too."
The guns were lowering.
"If my presence is disturbing to your people, I can withdraw," he pointed at the lead gold mantid. "Finds Peace in the Maelstrom is perfectly capable of acting as an intermediary between our people."
The diplomat stood for a long moment. Finally he inhaled slowly and let the breath out all in a rush.
Violet knew that what the Terran had done signified he had made a difficult decision that he might regret later and felt anxiety that the decision might be a critical error.
"Things have changed outside The Bag," he said slowly. He motioned and the warborgs stepped back. The scanning and targeting systems switched off. "Your name is Violet then?"
Violet nodded. "Yes, and I greet you."
"I greet you too."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
2024.04.25 02:12 TheSlyKoopa JoJo’s Bizarre OC Tournament #7: R2M16 - R.K. Viswanathan Ashok vs David Jackson
The results are in for Match 14. The winner is…
After a long day’s work, Soma’s Cup found itself patronized by more than the riders that had called it home. Tea, alcohol, pasta flowed like water as the construction workers—both professional and deputized—rested and recuperated from the hours of manual labor. Yes, there was still work to be done on the morrow, but the tools and the friendships forged would be enough to carry it on.
Titan, lapping happily from a saucer of diluted green tea, perked up to the sound of a door opening. Not the ethereal chimes of ｢The Doors｣, but the humble bell of the front doors. While they might have once been their boss, here they were just another humble patron, lured by the smell of tea and good company: “Ajay?”
The welder looked up, “Mahimit!” He waved the architect over, shuffling himself and his plate of pasta aside to make room. “Man, it’s been a while since we’ve hung out hasn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Mahi nodded, sliding in next to the welder. “Sorry I couldn’t meet up with you when you first got the the city, I—”
“Don’t worry about it! You’re a busy person nowadays, but we can catch up now!”
The two conversed, separately from the rest of the group who were discussing with each other about a job well done and their plans for the rest of the day. Cal was still among them, but what they had seen in Mahimit came to mind whenever they glanced over to the other two, their discussion lost underneath the cheer of the table.
His hearing better than most, Titan was able to discern Mahimit and Ajay’s friendship, arising from their time studying in Vellore before Ajay’s apprenticeship where they had formed a tight-knit trio with another student in the area, before Mahimit’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Someone…confronted me the other day. They knew stuff that I thought I had kept private, and they’re threatening to release it to the public unless I push forward to the city planning board something—t-they weren’t clear on what they wanted, but I just…I just don’t know what to do about this.”
Ajay’s response was similarly hushed. “Have you gone to the police about this?”
“And have it go to my father? Half of the higher ups are his military buddies.” Wincing, Mahimit shook his head. “I…I don’t want to risk him finding out. I love him, but I don’t know how much longer I can deal with the whole…”favorite son” thing. I don’t want to disappoint him, but…” He put his head in his hands. “God, I’m not making any sense am I.”
“You don’t have to.” Ajay gingerly patted them on the back. “You’ll figure it out, Mon-Ami. You always do.”
Scenario: Red Velvet Country Club, Vasitanagarh — 10:07 AM
The grandparents of Vastianagarh can remember when the region wasn’t this nice. Until the 70s—within their lifetimes—the locals had to scrounge for the dirty, demeaning work that the rest of Rākinnagarh could not stand. They could remain separated from the smell of waste and water treatment by the mountain that split the city in twain, like chambers of the heart that beat within.
Yet, the same beat of life thumped in the chest of the citizens of Vastianagarh, thumped beneath its earth, and life soon flourished in the region. It was by helping each other up, by turning fortune into fortune, the people of the region were able to rise above their station. Cracked hands that worked rough leather wove the finest fabrics and sold them to those carried forth from across the mountain—across the lands.
Grandparents who could remember walking cracked roads to school now lead their grandchildren by those same hands through streets that connected them to the rest of the city.
These were the stories that the members of the Red Velvet Country Club would tell each other, nouveau riche who were ever thankful for the good fortune that had granted their families such wealth. Bashfully, they would take the opportunity to enjoy it.
Yes, this was a fundraiser—and large checks were made out to Vilduveta compound—but the country club was the local haunt for many of the families that had established themselves within a few generations; indeed many of them would meet here before taking a train or a boat up river to the compound proper. To the guru, this was a fundraiser—but to the donors, this was akin to another round of golf. “Did you hear about that little fundraiser at the edge of Bedtown?”
One donor tutted sadly as she shook her head. “I did, I did—I can’t believe it happened so close to us. I’m glad you don’t seem hurt, Mr. Liang.”
The first, a gentleman in a pastel button-up with its sleeves rolled up, nearly spat out his drink, stumbling slightly at the thought. His conversation partner went to help, but Liang waved her off, insisting that he was fine. “No, no, heaven’s no. With ｢Cage the Elephant｣ roaming around, I would never set foot over there—Maryam, you remember Kali, my daughter, yes?”
“The one taking violin lessons-”
“Yes, them—I had heard about the fundraiser, but I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind.”
“There’s only so much we can do—at least the thing seems to have disappeared.” Maryam nodded with something between melancholy and relief. Things weren’t perfect in Rakin City, but at least they were getting better, just like they had for Vastianagarh. Suddenly her face lit up as she made eye contact across the patio. “Ah! I think I see Sara over there; please excuse me, I haven’t seen her in so long-”
“No offense taken!” With a brief hug, Maryam let go of her fellow club member, almost bumping into a frazzled Villu Vilduveta. He assured her it was an accident, none of her mimosa got on his robe, and sent her on her way. She would gossip with almost childish excitement that the famed thought-leader was just as kind as the rumors had said, but his mind was spinning.
As proven by the sun beating down upon him, it was solidly summer, and reams of grass spanned the golf course before him, just as neat and manicured as the Bengali architecture of the Red Velvet country club itself. While the members’ pride in their club and their area’s unique cultural legacy could be overbearing, the result made him feel somewhat at home.
If it was such pride that encouraged them to donate to charitable causes such as his, then he could play their game…as much as he preferred cricket. Villu tensed then exhaled. The anticipation for this event had been dwelling on him for weeks, but this was not the place for doubt—this was the place where he could do good. He set aside thoughts of handshakes, small talk, and mocktails (he didn’t drink) and let the stress pass through him. It was just a charity event, one of countless that he had run.
“Pardon us, Mr. Vilduveta?” His eyes opened, and he turned to see a small crowd had gathered around him, bearing hardback books. “We didn’t mean to bother you, but we read your biography, and-”
“Oh, of course!” Villu had already pulled forth a pen and had begun signing. “If anything, I’m glad you didn’t ask me to write one!”
The crowd laughed good-naturedly along with him; for his introversive tendencies, Villu still could converse deftly, his tone gentle but more than able to keep up in wit and ease. Even if he did not care for his fame, he had to begrudgingly admit that garnering such attention made solicitation easier—being a conversation piece could open checkbooks.
One of them, an upstart holding a glass of wine, reached out and tugged on his sleeve. “The sections of your work in Myanmar were really inspiring!”
“O-oh?” Villu asked warily.
“It’s like Star Wars! You and your revolutionaries against the empire, the start of your political career—I can’t believe you and your author kept that to one chapter! And your wife, my deepest condolences, she sounded wonderfu-”
“Please.” There was a sharpness in Villu’s gaze that pressed against the donor’s neck, revealing the steel thorns beneath his pastel silk. The crowd had become tense at the mere word, but Villu’s expression soon softened, blunted into a pensive smile. “My…my work is in honor of her life; I would rather not relive her death.”
There was an uneasy silence over the group, until Villu dramatically shut the last book with a loud FHUMP! “But enough of that,” he beamed at them as they nearly jumped at the sudden noise. “No use staying out here, hmm?”
For a larger event, a certain David Jackson had decided to bust out his older wardrobe.
Part of the choice was to blend in. The well-to-do of Vasitanagarh were dressed in well tailored suits, slacks, and shawls for the Indian summer weather, and while his clothing wasn’t tailored for the situation, he seemed like he belonged well enough.
Luiviton had attended the spa that was hosting this charity—raising money for providing meals and shelters to the homeless, or something—and mentioned something about the fundraiser in the few times David had seen him before they had split. David managed to scrounge together enough money to pay for an entry ticket.
“You said that the Red Velvet club displays the work of Earthgang students?” David asked. “I’m something of an artist myself, you know.”
“Indeed, but we try to select artwork somewhat in line with the extant decor. The art college is occasionally more…eccentric for our tastes.” Maryam laughed sheepishly, standing beside Sara.
“I’ll say,” David pointed to a large vase, holding more of the assorted flowers that decorated the parlor, and indeed the region as a whole. A small circle of artisans and parents had formed to discuss the wares they sold to tourists and galleries alike. Generations of jewelers, watchmakers, and metal workers wore silver and gold that fit their station and profession. “Is that 19th century porcelain?”
“Indeed it is, Mr Jackson! You have quite an eye…”
Part of the choice in outfit was to feel normal. If he truly wanted comfort, he might have donned the white t-shirt, but the club patrons seemed to accept him and his talk of Rakin’s art and culture. Yet, as he laughed and kibitzed with the club members, he found himself zoning out, sipping from his glass until all that touched his tongue was melting ice. “Did you hear about that magistrate? The one involved with the Overcome Foundation?”
Despite the air conditioning and cool beverage, David felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple.
“Yeah, I heard about that scandal not too long ago.” With the recent exposee on the Foundation’s relationship with the Dead City Haunts’ racketeering, lines in the sand had been drawn as its members sought to escape public, social, and legal scrutiny. Small talk churned into gossip as anxiety churned in David’s stomach:
“He was at Sonasuyast when I visited!” “He seemed polite enough.” “To think I donated to them…” “He claimed that he was under duress, but I don’t know…”
“Mhmm,” Maryam tutted, shaking her head with disdain. “Someone always tries to abuse the system. At least they got rid of him.”
“…You think you know someone,” David added with an unsteady expression. With Maryam putting the final nail in the coffin, the topic passed and the group’s ire with it. Yet David retreated further into himself. Part of the choice in outfit was to provide cover, but the sharp tang of spite to Maryam’s voice that reminded him of the sword that hung over his head.
But he shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. All he had to do was play off his connections to Goldfinger and now Vasitanagarh. With its geometrically-tiled roads and urbane cafes and markets, this part of the city was clean, it was safe, and the more he ingratiated himself with this part of society, the less he would have to worry about a roof over his head and the more he could finally—
“Mr. Jackson!?”
He had jumped back, accidentally dropping his glass with a loud CRASH! Everyone looked at him with concern as he waved them off.
“Sorry, everyone; glass just slipped.” He raised his palms showing that he was uninjured. “Guess I’ve had one too many!” More good natured laughter as a janitor brought a broom to sweep aside the shards. As the commotion died down, David saw what had scared him in his paranoia:
A vase of purple flowers on a cocktail table as a conversation piece.
Attending this stuffy event wasn’t Ashok’s idea, but nowadays, what was? Those unseen chains were bound as tight as ever, tugging him this way and that. Suggestions traveled through them like impulses through nerves, sparking up his spine, rattling in his skull. But at least these whispers silenced the rumours swirling outside. Sulka’s strange behavior was starting to become the subject of the city’s constant gossip, and every mention of them was fraying Ashok’s nerves. If you couldn’t trust your own teammates, who could you trust?
Me, whispered the Puppet, as the message sparked across its chains. It had asserted that the situation with Sulka was unfolding as it should be, and that he should concern himself with other matters. Dutifully, Ashok followed this generous advice, and found himself a matter most concerning. Unlike many other Stand users, this Puppet was not the creation of his own spirit, but an external force that chose him after its last user had passed away.
The question clattering in Ashok’s mind was not the why, but the how. How had that last user perished? Was it natural? Was it foul play? Was it the Puppet’s meddling? Surely, with the how, the why would follow. That answer, that knowledge, it would be the key that would unlock these shackles. The key to controlling his own destiny–no, to control destiny itself.
That very key lay here, somewhere in this crowd of sentimental socialites. It was those sentiments that Ashok found appealing–an easy in, a means of taking the reins and steering them as he saw fit.
As was the case right now, as he hummed and hawed at some poor charity worker. All of it with a caring smile. It’s not as if that smile was fake, Ashok knew that this group was doing good work, it’s just that…
“...I’ve been rather concerned about some rumours I’ve been hearing lately,” he sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass, forming a miniature whirlpool. “You know how certain charities have been, such a large portion of their donations go to the administration, and their patrons are none the wiser. It leaves such a sour taste in my mouth–I like to think this group is different, after all, it’s such a good cause, but…” another sigh, leaving the thought unfinished. His eyes strayed from his whirlpool, watching the worker. They would be the one to complete the sentence, and with it, they would offer themselves up to him. As they should. After all, he was simply doing his due diligence.
The look on their face struck him with a pang of excitement. That was it. Ashok had wrapped his chain around their wrist, and now he would be the one to make them dance. These were the moments that he lived for, the moments where he knew he was alive. He was not some marionette–he pulled the strings. Let these people have their idle chatter, none of it mattered to him. None of it could compare to this. Finally, his bindings loosened. Finally, Ashok could breathe, and the air tasted so sweet.
But then a passing figure caught his eye, and for a moment, it felt like his lungs had filled with something viscous. Quickly he shook the sensation away, breaking away from the worker, no longer interested. This new figure was far more pressing: David Jackson, a member of the Overcome Foundation, an associate of that infested woman that Pluto had fought against. Their Foundation was corrupt, it was criminal—as much as Ashok could dislike the rumour mill, sometimes it gave him valuable intel.
Yet, the other attendees either didn’t know, or didn’t care, if they simply let this man walk amongst them. Surely, he should let someone know—otherwise this man’s crimes would go unpunished. But who would he tell? These people milling around didn’t seem to care, but- that’s it. Smiling to himself, Ashok decided on his play, and walked right up to David himself.
All the while, David was looking at a painting, though he wasn’t taking in the artwork. It was a good way to stare into the distance and get your bearings without seeming weird. However, it seemed this tactic wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped–someone was sidling up next to him. The other man was slight, though his eyes were bright and his smile was soft and pleasant. That being said, he was staring at David for several unbroken seconds, without saying anything.
“Ah?” David began, trying to recenter himself on the spot. “Hello there,” he smiled back, “here to admire the painting?”
“It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?” the other man commented, still standing rather close to David. The man took a few seconds to stare into the artwork, before turning to David and extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet someone with similar taste, Mr…?”
David blinked. There was no reason to hesitate–it wasn’t as though he hadn’t introduced himself before, why should this be any different?
“Jackson,” he replied, “Mr. Jackson.”
Once again, the young man just stared at him, for long enough that David began to wonder if-
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” the stranger interjected, still offering his hand. David reached out to complete the gesture, trying to put himself at ease. The flowers made him jumpy, that was all.
“My name is Ashok.” A pause, as he withdrew his hand. “I hope I’m not being too forward, I was actually wondering if you were the artist of this piece.”
“This one? No, I was just admiring it.”
“I see!” Ashok responded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’m rather curious about its creator–I’ve heard you can tell a lot about an artist just through their work. If that’s true, then this collection certainly represents the character of our city!”
“Oh..?” David raised a brow, “how so?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ashok asked in return.
“Yeah, totally,” David trailed off, glancing around, looking for a theme. Before he could come up with one, Ashok simply chuckled and shook his head.
“Such a varied and eclectic collection represents a city so full of characters. Surely you’ve heard the gossip. We have so many interesting figures… there was that one older man, he runs a machine shop, what was his name…”
“How would I know-”
“Goldfinger, that’s it. Now there’s an interesting man–it seems like everyone fashions themselves king nowadays. But I heard he had the racket to support it.”
David swallowed, trying to keep a jovial air. The rumour mill kept spinning after all, that wasn’t so strange. Ashok himself was still smiling at him, his voice cheerful and light. As David remained silent, Ashok continued, “Maybe you haven’t heard of him. Oh, but you must know about that woman—she’s got a flower for an eye, can you believe that?”
David frowned a moment, sucking in a breath. “Wow. How strange.”
Ashok’s smile only seemed to glow brighter. He tapped on his chin, continuing on. “I know, right? Oh, get this- I heard that those two might even work together. It’s that foundation- everyone here keeps talking about it. It’s only natural, right? When you’re doing good work, you don’t want it dragged down by other people’s corruption.”
“For sure.” David quickly agreed, now finally glancing for an exit.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your time,” Ashok laughed, though he didn’t move away. “You must be quite busy, considering.”
“Considering what?” David asked, a little harsher than he intended.
Ashok grinned. For a moment, the air rattled with the clattering of chains. “Considering you’re on display tonight, David Jackson.”
David tried to unclench his jaw, uncurl his fingers. It wasn’t that difficult of an inference to make. But there was something about the way he said it.
“You know, you’re quite deep in the rumour mill,” David responded, trying to give the man a smirk of his own. “Maybe you should start minding your own business.”
The rattling grew more intense, a cold feeling curling around David’s limbs.
“Oh, but I have to be,” Ashok smiled, though the light in his eyes was as frigid as iron. “When there are criminals about, ruining my city.”
Surely, David thought, he could just surprise this willowy little man with his Stand and be done with it. But he would rather avoid such a needless scuffle, especially in front of this crowd. If anything, that was probably what this guy wanted. But David had a much better idea.
“Yeah, that’s rough,” he smiled, patting Ashok on the shoulder. “Hope they catch those guys. Anyways, I think the golf tournament’s starting–I’ve gotta go. See you around, enjoy the art!”
Then, just like that, he was gone. Ashok stared after him, perfectly still…before his body began to rattle. Damn it. He was so close- if David had just been caught off guard enough, if he had tried to make a move against Ashok, it would have raised suspicions against him. But the truth was, right now these people liked him too much–and so they remained ignorant, some of them willfully so. David knew he had the opportunity to simple disengage, and blend in with the crowd.
[There goes your single opportunity to gain your answers.]
The whisper grasped his shaking form, and made him still. No, no, that couldn’t be right. Ashok still had a chance–he could still corner this criminal, and this time there would be no chance of escape.
As Ashok strode out to the green, the sun shone down upon him, illuminating the manicured course that wound across the island.
David caught his eye, golf club slung over his shoulder, and this time he was the one to shoot Ashok a grin.
“Hey, there you are. Tell you what,” he offered. “We’re at a charity event, we’re both donors…we should do as the Romans do. Half these people’s deals are decided on the green. Come play a round with me. If you win, we’ll talk. If you lose…you finally start minding your own business.”
Ashok picked up a club, admiring it for a moment. This man thought he was in a position to set the terms? Fine then. Once Ashok one, once they had their talk, he would make sure the chains of fate found their way round David’s neck.
“Sounds wonderful.
“Open the Game!”
Location: This particular round of golf will span across three different holes, Hole 4, Hole 13, and Hole 15. Each hole will have two maps provided - one for the entire overview of the hole and one for a topographical view of the putting green. Each map consists of 5x5 meter tiles.
General Map Key:
There are two major parts to each of the three holes: Driving to get the ball as near to the hole as possible and Putting to get the ball in.
Driving in a team golf game means that several people hit the ball, with the closest hit being chosen for the Putting section. As both players will be monopolizing the Putting, their teammates only matter insofar as they’ll have a minimum floor on each map: each map has a red zone where players may choose to take their second shot from in the event their first is greatly sabotaged. Note that players can get much closer to the hole than this “fallback” option; it exists so that players won’t fall too far behind for the Putting phase.
Putting is more complex, since both characters will be able to better utilize their Stands on the comparatively smaller scale.
Physical combat between players is not allowed, but other subtle interference is. Terrain manipulation, affecting the opponent, and other Stand use is all on the table, as there are no Stand users currently watching the game. However, keep in mind that all Stand use must be deniable. More egregious sabotage will be increasingly held as foul play, reducing its efficacy, and outright breaking the laws of causality in a way that can’t be explained by skill will cause a loss as everyone around is too busy trying to figure out why and how you’re cheating to be impressed at your skills. Keep in mind that directly affecting players is somewhat risky, so terrain or NPCs may be more reliable.
The winner for this match will be determined by whoever obtains the lowest golf score. Each hole has a “Par”, which is the target amount of strokes it should take to get the ball in the hole. Matching this Par equals 0 Points, with each stroke below this being “-1” point and each stroke above being “+1” point. Holes-in-one are not possible in this match, this ain’t mini golf.
Additional Information:
All right, so we got two different “meta-ability/meta-skill” lads in this match so get ready for a big info dump.
Ashok:
Link to Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!
submitted by TheSlyKoopa to StardustCrusaders [link] [comments]
Titan Patel and “Calabasas” with a score of 79!
| Category | Winner | Point Totals | Comments |
|---|---|---|---|
| Popularity | Titan Patel and “Calabasas” | 15 (0+6+2) - N/A | We thank everyone who gave their thoughts on this match! For the sake of record keeping, this conceded match is considered to have no (comparative) votes cast, so MBR gets 15 Pop Points (following the Low Turnout + Buffer rules). |
| Quality | Titan Patel and “Calabasas” | 25 (8 8 9) - N/A | Reasoning |
| JoJolity | Titan Patel and “Calabasas” | 29 (10 9 10) - N/A | Reasoning |
| Conduct | Tie | 10-10 | Due to unforeseen circumstances, Dead City Haunts made the decision to officially concede from M14. Despite the unfortunate situation, we wish them all the best! |
Titan, lapping happily from a saucer of diluted green tea, perked up to the sound of a door opening. Not the ethereal chimes of ｢The Doors｣, but the humble bell of the front doors. While they might have once been their boss, here they were just another humble patron, lured by the smell of tea and good company: “Ajay?”
The welder looked up, “Mahimit!” He waved the architect over, shuffling himself and his plate of pasta aside to make room. “Man, it’s been a while since we’ve hung out hasn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Mahi nodded, sliding in next to the welder. “Sorry I couldn’t meet up with you when you first got the the city, I—”
“Don’t worry about it! You’re a busy person nowadays, but we can catch up now!”
The two conversed, separately from the rest of the group who were discussing with each other about a job well done and their plans for the rest of the day. Cal was still among them, but what they had seen in Mahimit came to mind whenever they glanced over to the other two, their discussion lost underneath the cheer of the table.
His hearing better than most, Titan was able to discern Mahimit and Ajay’s friendship, arising from their time studying in Vellore before Ajay’s apprenticeship where they had formed a tight-knit trio with another student in the area, before Mahimit’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Someone…confronted me the other day. They knew stuff that I thought I had kept private, and they’re threatening to release it to the public unless I push forward to the city planning board something—t-they weren’t clear on what they wanted, but I just…I just don’t know what to do about this.”
Ajay’s response was similarly hushed. “Have you gone to the police about this?”
“And have it go to my father? Half of the higher ups are his military buddies.” Wincing, Mahimit shook his head. “I…I don’t want to risk him finding out. I love him, but I don’t know how much longer I can deal with the whole…”favorite son” thing. I don’t want to disappoint him, but…” He put his head in his hands. “God, I’m not making any sense am I.”
“You don’t have to.” Ajay gingerly patted them on the back. “You’ll figure it out, Mon-Ami. You always do.”
The grandparents of Vastianagarh can remember when the region wasn’t this nice. Until the 70s—within their lifetimes—the locals had to scrounge for the dirty, demeaning work that the rest of Rākinnagarh could not stand. They could remain separated from the smell of waste and water treatment by the mountain that split the city in twain, like chambers of the heart that beat within.
Yet, the same beat of life thumped in the chest of the citizens of Vastianagarh, thumped beneath its earth, and life soon flourished in the region. It was by helping each other up, by turning fortune into fortune, the people of the region were able to rise above their station. Cracked hands that worked rough leather wove the finest fabrics and sold them to those carried forth from across the mountain—across the lands.
Grandparents who could remember walking cracked roads to school now lead their grandchildren by those same hands through streets that connected them to the rest of the city.
These were the stories that the members of the Red Velvet Country Club would tell each other, nouveau riche who were ever thankful for the good fortune that had granted their families such wealth. Bashfully, they would take the opportunity to enjoy it.
Yes, this was a fundraiser—and large checks were made out to Vilduveta compound—but the country club was the local haunt for many of the families that had established themselves within a few generations; indeed many of them would meet here before taking a train or a boat up river to the compound proper. To the guru, this was a fundraiser—but to the donors, this was akin to another round of golf. “Did you hear about that little fundraiser at the edge of Bedtown?”
One donor tutted sadly as she shook her head. “I did, I did—I can’t believe it happened so close to us. I’m glad you don’t seem hurt, Mr. Liang.”
The first, a gentleman in a pastel button-up with its sleeves rolled up, nearly spat out his drink, stumbling slightly at the thought. His conversation partner went to help, but Liang waved her off, insisting that he was fine. “No, no, heaven’s no. With ｢Cage the Elephant｣ roaming around, I would never set foot over there—Maryam, you remember Kali, my daughter, yes?”
“The one taking violin lessons-”
“Yes, them—I had heard about the fundraiser, but I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind.”
“There’s only so much we can do—at least the thing seems to have disappeared.” Maryam nodded with something between melancholy and relief. Things weren’t perfect in Rakin City, but at least they were getting better, just like they had for Vastianagarh. Suddenly her face lit up as she made eye contact across the patio. “Ah! I think I see Sara over there; please excuse me, I haven’t seen her in so long-”
“No offense taken!” With a brief hug, Maryam let go of her fellow club member, almost bumping into a frazzled Villu Vilduveta. He assured her it was an accident, none of her mimosa got on his robe, and sent her on her way. She would gossip with almost childish excitement that the famed thought-leader was just as kind as the rumors had said, but his mind was spinning.
As proven by the sun beating down upon him, it was solidly summer, and reams of grass spanned the golf course before him, just as neat and manicured as the Bengali architecture of the Red Velvet country club itself. While the members’ pride in their club and their area’s unique cultural legacy could be overbearing, the result made him feel somewhat at home.
If it was such pride that encouraged them to donate to charitable causes such as his, then he could play their game…as much as he preferred cricket. Villu tensed then exhaled. The anticipation for this event had been dwelling on him for weeks, but this was not the place for doubt—this was the place where he could do good. He set aside thoughts of handshakes, small talk, and mocktails (he didn’t drink) and let the stress pass through him. It was just a charity event, one of countless that he had run.
“Pardon us, Mr. Vilduveta?” His eyes opened, and he turned to see a small crowd had gathered around him, bearing hardback books. “We didn’t mean to bother you, but we read your biography, and-”
“Oh, of course!” Villu had already pulled forth a pen and had begun signing. “If anything, I’m glad you didn’t ask me to write one!”
The crowd laughed good-naturedly along with him; for his introversive tendencies, Villu still could converse deftly, his tone gentle but more than able to keep up in wit and ease. Even if he did not care for his fame, he had to begrudgingly admit that garnering such attention made solicitation easier—being a conversation piece could open checkbooks.
One of them, an upstart holding a glass of wine, reached out and tugged on his sleeve. “The sections of your work in Myanmar were really inspiring!”
“O-oh?” Villu asked warily.
“It’s like Star Wars! You and your revolutionaries against the empire, the start of your political career—I can’t believe you and your author kept that to one chapter! And your wife, my deepest condolences, she sounded wonderfu-”
“Please.” There was a sharpness in Villu’s gaze that pressed against the donor’s neck, revealing the steel thorns beneath his pastel silk. The crowd had become tense at the mere word, but Villu’s expression soon softened, blunted into a pensive smile. “My…my work is in honor of her life; I would rather not relive her death.”
There was an uneasy silence over the group, until Villu dramatically shut the last book with a loud FHUMP! “But enough of that,” he beamed at them as they nearly jumped at the sudden noise. “No use staying out here, hmm?”
Part of the choice was to blend in. The well-to-do of Vasitanagarh were dressed in well tailored suits, slacks, and shawls for the Indian summer weather, and while his clothing wasn’t tailored for the situation, he seemed like he belonged well enough.
Luiviton had attended the spa that was hosting this charity—raising money for providing meals and shelters to the homeless, or something—and mentioned something about the fundraiser in the few times David had seen him before they had split. David managed to scrounge together enough money to pay for an entry ticket.
“You said that the Red Velvet club displays the work of Earthgang students?” David asked. “I’m something of an artist myself, you know.”
“Indeed, but we try to select artwork somewhat in line with the extant decor. The art college is occasionally more…eccentric for our tastes.” Maryam laughed sheepishly, standing beside Sara.
“I’ll say,” David pointed to a large vase, holding more of the assorted flowers that decorated the parlor, and indeed the region as a whole. A small circle of artisans and parents had formed to discuss the wares they sold to tourists and galleries alike. Generations of jewelers, watchmakers, and metal workers wore silver and gold that fit their station and profession. “Is that 19th century porcelain?”
“Indeed it is, Mr Jackson! You have quite an eye…”
Part of the choice in outfit was to feel normal. If he truly wanted comfort, he might have donned the white t-shirt, but the club patrons seemed to accept him and his talk of Rakin’s art and culture. Yet, as he laughed and kibitzed with the club members, he found himself zoning out, sipping from his glass until all that touched his tongue was melting ice. “Did you hear about that magistrate? The one involved with the Overcome Foundation?”
Despite the air conditioning and cool beverage, David felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple.
“Yeah, I heard about that scandal not too long ago.” With the recent exposee on the Foundation’s relationship with the Dead City Haunts’ racketeering, lines in the sand had been drawn as its members sought to escape public, social, and legal scrutiny. Small talk churned into gossip as anxiety churned in David’s stomach:
“He was at Sonasuyast when I visited!” “He seemed polite enough.” “To think I donated to them…” “He claimed that he was under duress, but I don’t know…”
“Mhmm,” Maryam tutted, shaking her head with disdain. “Someone always tries to abuse the system. At least they got rid of him.”
“…You think you know someone,” David added with an unsteady expression. With Maryam putting the final nail in the coffin, the topic passed and the group’s ire with it. Yet David retreated further into himself. Part of the choice in outfit was to provide cover, but the sharp tang of spite to Maryam’s voice that reminded him of the sword that hung over his head.
But he shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. All he had to do was play off his connections to Goldfinger and now Vasitanagarh. With its geometrically-tiled roads and urbane cafes and markets, this part of the city was clean, it was safe, and the more he ingratiated himself with this part of society, the less he would have to worry about a roof over his head and the more he could finally—
“Mr. Jackson!?”
He had jumped back, accidentally dropping his glass with a loud CRASH! Everyone looked at him with concern as he waved them off.
“Sorry, everyone; glass just slipped.” He raised his palms showing that he was uninjured. “Guess I’ve had one too many!” More good natured laughter as a janitor brought a broom to sweep aside the shards. As the commotion died down, David saw what had scared him in his paranoia:
A vase of purple flowers on a cocktail table as a conversation piece.
Me, whispered the Puppet, as the message sparked across its chains. It had asserted that the situation with Sulka was unfolding as it should be, and that he should concern himself with other matters. Dutifully, Ashok followed this generous advice, and found himself a matter most concerning. Unlike many other Stand users, this Puppet was not the creation of his own spirit, but an external force that chose him after its last user had passed away.
The question clattering in Ashok’s mind was not the why, but the how. How had that last user perished? Was it natural? Was it foul play? Was it the Puppet’s meddling? Surely, with the how, the why would follow. That answer, that knowledge, it would be the key that would unlock these shackles. The key to controlling his own destiny–no, to control destiny itself.
That very key lay here, somewhere in this crowd of sentimental socialites. It was those sentiments that Ashok found appealing–an easy in, a means of taking the reins and steering them as he saw fit.
As was the case right now, as he hummed and hawed at some poor charity worker. All of it with a caring smile. It’s not as if that smile was fake, Ashok knew that this group was doing good work, it’s just that…
“...I’ve been rather concerned about some rumours I’ve been hearing lately,” he sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass, forming a miniature whirlpool. “You know how certain charities have been, such a large portion of their donations go to the administration, and their patrons are none the wiser. It leaves such a sour taste in my mouth–I like to think this group is different, after all, it’s such a good cause, but…” another sigh, leaving the thought unfinished. His eyes strayed from his whirlpool, watching the worker. They would be the one to complete the sentence, and with it, they would offer themselves up to him. As they should. After all, he was simply doing his due diligence.
The look on their face struck him with a pang of excitement. That was it. Ashok had wrapped his chain around their wrist, and now he would be the one to make them dance. These were the moments that he lived for, the moments where he knew he was alive. He was not some marionette–he pulled the strings. Let these people have their idle chatter, none of it mattered to him. None of it could compare to this. Finally, his bindings loosened. Finally, Ashok could breathe, and the air tasted so sweet.
But then a passing figure caught his eye, and for a moment, it felt like his lungs had filled with something viscous. Quickly he shook the sensation away, breaking away from the worker, no longer interested. This new figure was far more pressing: David Jackson, a member of the Overcome Foundation, an associate of that infested woman that Pluto had fought against. Their Foundation was corrupt, it was criminal—as much as Ashok could dislike the rumour mill, sometimes it gave him valuable intel.
Yet, the other attendees either didn’t know, or didn’t care, if they simply let this man walk amongst them. Surely, he should let someone know—otherwise this man’s crimes would go unpunished. But who would he tell? These people milling around didn’t seem to care, but- that’s it. Smiling to himself, Ashok decided on his play, and walked right up to David himself.
All the while, David was looking at a painting, though he wasn’t taking in the artwork. It was a good way to stare into the distance and get your bearings without seeming weird. However, it seemed this tactic wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped–someone was sidling up next to him. The other man was slight, though his eyes were bright and his smile was soft and pleasant. That being said, he was staring at David for several unbroken seconds, without saying anything.
“Ah?” David began, trying to recenter himself on the spot. “Hello there,” he smiled back, “here to admire the painting?”
“It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?” the other man commented, still standing rather close to David. The man took a few seconds to stare into the artwork, before turning to David and extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet someone with similar taste, Mr…?”
David blinked. There was no reason to hesitate–it wasn’t as though he hadn’t introduced himself before, why should this be any different?
“Jackson,” he replied, “Mr. Jackson.”
Once again, the young man just stared at him, for long enough that David began to wonder if-
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” the stranger interjected, still offering his hand. David reached out to complete the gesture, trying to put himself at ease. The flowers made him jumpy, that was all.
“My name is Ashok.” A pause, as he withdrew his hand. “I hope I’m not being too forward, I was actually wondering if you were the artist of this piece.”
“This one? No, I was just admiring it.”
“I see!” Ashok responded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’m rather curious about its creator–I’ve heard you can tell a lot about an artist just through their work. If that’s true, then this collection certainly represents the character of our city!”
“Oh..?” David raised a brow, “how so?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ashok asked in return.
“Yeah, totally,” David trailed off, glancing around, looking for a theme. Before he could come up with one, Ashok simply chuckled and shook his head.
“Such a varied and eclectic collection represents a city so full of characters. Surely you’ve heard the gossip. We have so many interesting figures… there was that one older man, he runs a machine shop, what was his name…”
“How would I know-”
“Goldfinger, that’s it. Now there’s an interesting man–it seems like everyone fashions themselves king nowadays. But I heard he had the racket to support it.”
David swallowed, trying to keep a jovial air. The rumour mill kept spinning after all, that wasn’t so strange. Ashok himself was still smiling at him, his voice cheerful and light. As David remained silent, Ashok continued, “Maybe you haven’t heard of him. Oh, but you must know about that woman—she’s got a flower for an eye, can you believe that?”
David frowned a moment, sucking in a breath. “Wow. How strange.”
Ashok’s smile only seemed to glow brighter. He tapped on his chin, continuing on. “I know, right? Oh, get this- I heard that those two might even work together. It’s that foundation- everyone here keeps talking about it. It’s only natural, right? When you’re doing good work, you don’t want it dragged down by other people’s corruption.”
“For sure.” David quickly agreed, now finally glancing for an exit.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your time,” Ashok laughed, though he didn’t move away. “You must be quite busy, considering.”
“Considering what?” David asked, a little harsher than he intended.
Ashok grinned. For a moment, the air rattled with the clattering of chains. “Considering you’re on display tonight, David Jackson.”
David tried to unclench his jaw, uncurl his fingers. It wasn’t that difficult of an inference to make. But there was something about the way he said it.
“You know, you’re quite deep in the rumour mill,” David responded, trying to give the man a smirk of his own. “Maybe you should start minding your own business.”
The rattling grew more intense, a cold feeling curling around David’s limbs.
“Oh, but I have to be,” Ashok smiled, though the light in his eyes was as frigid as iron. “When there are criminals about, ruining my city.”
Surely, David thought, he could just surprise this willowy little man with his Stand and be done with it. But he would rather avoid such a needless scuffle, especially in front of this crowd. If anything, that was probably what this guy wanted. But David had a much better idea.
“Yeah, that’s rough,” he smiled, patting Ashok on the shoulder. “Hope they catch those guys. Anyways, I think the golf tournament’s starting–I’ve gotta go. See you around, enjoy the art!”
Then, just like that, he was gone. Ashok stared after him, perfectly still…before his body began to rattle. Damn it. He was so close- if David had just been caught off guard enough, if he had tried to make a move against Ashok, it would have raised suspicions against him. But the truth was, right now these people liked him too much–and so they remained ignorant, some of them willfully so. David knew he had the opportunity to simple disengage, and blend in with the crowd.
[There goes your single opportunity to gain your answers.]
The whisper grasped his shaking form, and made him still. No, no, that couldn’t be right. Ashok still had a chance–he could still corner this criminal, and this time there would be no chance of escape.
As Ashok strode out to the green, the sun shone down upon him, illuminating the manicured course that wound across the island.
David caught his eye, golf club slung over his shoulder, and this time he was the one to shoot Ashok a grin.
“Hey, there you are. Tell you what,” he offered. “We’re at a charity event, we’re both donors…we should do as the Romans do. Half these people’s deals are decided on the green. Come play a round with me. If you win, we’ll talk. If you lose…you finally start minding your own business.”
Ashok picked up a club, admiring it for a moment. This man thought he was in a position to set the terms? Fine then. Once Ashok one, once they had their talk, he would make sure the chains of fate found their way round David’s neck.
“Sounds wonderful.
“Open the Game!”
General Map Key:
- Lightest Green: The putting green area, which has a Yellow Circle denoting that the hole is in the center of that tile. A 2.5 meter tall flag will be sticking out of the hole. The grass here is 4mm tall. For the topographical views, there is an inch difference between each colored ring, with RED (or the ring with intersecting lines in it) being the highest elevation and BLUE/PURPLE (or the ring with circles intersecting it) being the lowest.
- Light Green: The fairway, which has differing levels of elevation across them (no map for this as precision here isn’t as important here as it is on the green). The grass here is 15mm tall. The section of fairway with the red triangle is the tee-off position, and players will drive their first shots from here.
- Green: The rough, which are areas of tall grass that the golf ball will not bounce off of very well. The grass here ranges from 1-2 inches tall. For the sake of simplicity, there is no “semi-rough” area depicted on the maps.
- Darkest Green: Forested areas with rough dirt/root terrain that make it very difficult to hit the ball out of. The trees are also tall enough that “driving the ball” over them will also pose a significant challenge.
- Light Tan/White: Sand bunkers, these are concave pits of sand that are very difficult to hit golf balls out of.
- Light Gray: Golf cart paths that are made of chunky gravel, individual gravel pieces are about golf-ball-sized.
- Translucent Red Circle: A “safety” area for where your first shot can land, see Match Info below for more details.
- Topographical Map
- PAR 3
- Topographical Map
- PAR 4
- Blue: Water hazards, should the golf ball sink into them, that is considered a penalty and will add 1 to your score for this hole. The terrain around the water gently slopes into it.
- Brown: Bridges, golf balls are not allowed to be hit from these, they’re just there for players to walk across.
- Topographical Map
- PAR 5
- Dark Gray: Large rocks jutting out from the earth, ranging from 4-5 meters tall. The tops of these are not flat surfaces, so the ball will not rest on top of them.
There are two major parts to each of the three holes: Driving to get the ball as near to the hole as possible and Putting to get the ball in.
Driving in a team golf game means that several people hit the ball, with the closest hit being chosen for the Putting section. As both players will be monopolizing the Putting, their teammates only matter insofar as they’ll have a minimum floor on each map: each map has a red zone where players may choose to take their second shot from in the event their first is greatly sabotaged. Note that players can get much closer to the hole than this “fallback” option; it exists so that players won’t fall too far behind for the Putting phase.
Putting is more complex, since both characters will be able to better utilize their Stands on the comparatively smaller scale.
Physical combat between players is not allowed, but other subtle interference is. Terrain manipulation, affecting the opponent, and other Stand use is all on the table, as there are no Stand users currently watching the game. However, keep in mind that all Stand use must be deniable. More egregious sabotage will be increasingly held as foul play, reducing its efficacy, and outright breaking the laws of causality in a way that can’t be explained by skill will cause a loss as everyone around is too busy trying to figure out why and how you’re cheating to be impressed at your skills. Keep in mind that directly affecting players is somewhat risky, so terrain or NPCs may be more reliable.
The winner for this match will be determined by whoever obtains the lowest golf score. Each hole has a “Par”, which is the target amount of strokes it should take to get the ball in the hole. Matching this Par equals 0 Points, with each stroke below this being “-1” point and each stroke above being “+1” point. Holes-in-one are not possible in this match, this ain’t mini golf.
Additional Information:
All right, so we got two different “meta-ability/meta-skill” lads in this match so get ready for a big info dump.
Ashok:
｢Puppet Loosely Strung｣ Mandates
- The target may not move closer toward the portal.
- The target must move closer to the portal. (mutually exclusive with the above Mandate)
- The target may not move faster than D Speed.
- The target must reverse their current direction. (Does nothing if target is not moving, Mandate chain will disappear)
- The target must avert their eyes from their golf ball.
- The target cannot be submerged in water.
- The target must spin around.
Ashok’s “Stand Memory” Skills
- Governess 4: This former user had to play a lot of croquet in their time, which for this match roughly equates to a “Golfing 2” skill. This also aids Ashok in staying composed in the face of childish absurdity.
- Textiles 4: Grants Ashok knowledge of cloth-related things, as well as a deep understanding of “texture” and an eye for detail. This will help them identify what the current texture of objects or terrain is and will better aid them in determining minor elevation differences on the putting green.
David’s “One Step Ahead” Advantages
- Golfing 3 Skill
- About 1 kilogram of modeling clay in his backpack
- A 1.5 liter thermos full of Goo taken from Jyotsna’s ｢DICTATOR｣
| ｢The Fine Print｣ x | Special Goo Description |
|---|---|
| ｢Puppet Loosely Strung｣ | A “Stand material” chain can form between two applied instances of this Goo, this cannot be seen by non Stand-Users. David can extract up to 5 liters of this at once. |
| ｢DICTATOR｣ | Objects infused with this Goo turn white. David is limited to the 1.5 liters he brought with him. Borrowed from Jyotsna Mathur. |
| Team | Combatant | JoJolity |
|---|---|---|
| Heart of the Rose | R.K. Viswanathan Ashok | “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. Calamity will come.” You need to exert control over the situation—your kind of control, not that of some puppet. Be stylish in your golfing and your sabotage! |
| Dead City Haunts | David Jackson | “Yeah? Well I got these sneakers at an outlet for 7980 yen.” You’ve been the life of the party since you got here, and you’re gonna prove it out on the green. Be stylish in your golfing and your sabotage! |
Link to Match Schedule
2024.04.24 20:06 funeraltemplate PROGRAM FOR A FUNERAL TEMPLATE
 | submitted by funeraltemplate to u/funeraltemplate [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/pamhtg63wgwc1.png?width=1657&format=png&auto=webp&s=ff2820b63f3c1fdc1939e972e5663875e6975183 Designing a Meaningful Funeral Program: A Template for RemembranceCreating a Lasting TributeA funeral program template is a cherished keepsake that honors the life of a departed loved one. Designing one that captures their essence requires thoughtful consideration and a blend of practicality and sentimentality.Front CoverThe front cover sets the tone. Include the name, date of birth and passing, and a meaningful image. A serene landscape, a favorite flower, or a photo of the deceased can personalize it.Order of ServiceOutline the order of events, including hymns, readings, and eulogies. Incorporate the deceased’s favorite quotes, poems, or scriptures. This section guides attendees through the service, providing a sense of structure and reverence.Personal TouchesIntegrate personal touches that reflect the individual’s life. Include a biography, anecdotes, or special achievements. This adds depth to the program and offers attendees a glimpse into the life being celebrated.In MemoriamCreate a space for attendees to reflect and remember. Include a poem, quote, or message of remembrance. This section allows attendees to pay their respects and find comfort in shared memories.ClosingConclude with a message of gratitude for attendees’ support and a final farewell to the departed. Offer words of comfort and hope, providing solace to those grieving.A well-designed funeral program serves as a touching tribute, preserving memories and offering comfort to those mourning. Through thoughtful design and personalization, a funeral program becomes a cherished memento that honors the life and legacy of the departed. |
2024.04.22 18:15 ohyeathat1kid Ok so, I like finding pictures of sentai actors especially the showa era to see how they've age. Some are hard to find and will probably never happen but I manage to find hiroko nishimoto (change mermaid) at least I think it looks like a older version of her. And a website stated it's her🤷♂️
 | submitted by ohyeathat1kid to supersentai [link] [comments] |
2024.04.20 13:54 Vir-victus What were the activities of the VOC in South Sulawesi at the end of the 16th century? How much of an impact did it have on everyday life in the region? (PART II)
Continuing right were we left of with this question from AskHistorians with Parts 4 of 5 from the original thread (make sure you read Part I first!):
The mid-1630s were generally bad years for South Sulawesi for reasons other than the depredations of the Dutch blockade of 1634-1635. In 1636 a devastating "plague" - perhaps associated with increasing commercialization, which introduced previously unknown pathogens to the peninsula - killed 60,000 people in and around Makassar alone in just forty days. So the ''Diaries'' entry for July 2, 1636, is dark indeed:
This is all to explain the treaty of 1637 in which the seemingly interminable war between Gowa and the VOC was finally put to an end. As we've seen, the governments in Makassar were growing tired of war. The VOC, too, sought a more pacifist strategy under the new Governor-General Anthony van Diemen, who had already negotiated a treaty with the West Javanese sultanate of Banten in 1636 and had attempted to establish general peace in Maluku. So van Diemen sailed into Makassar on June 22, 1637, negotiated with Sultan Ala'uddin for four days, and peace returned in June 26. In this treaty the VOC factory in Makassar was reestablished after two decades, Gowa and Talloq promised to ban their merchants from sailing either to the Portuguese capital at Melaka (Malacca) or to the spice-producing island of Seram, and the VOC in their turn acknowledged the vast dominion of Makassar.16 This peace lasted for sixteen years, until 1653.
The return of the Dutch to Makassar was hardly welcomed by the English and, presumably, other established merchants there. The Dutch began buying spices in the port and, by their habit of "prodigally bidding more than the current price," soon drove prices up. Worse, the strengthening of the Dutch monopoly in the spice islands of Maluku meant that fewer spices of poorer quality (e.g. cloves mixed with useless stalks) were reaching Makassar. Although anti-Dutch rebels were active in the Malukan island of Ambon until 1646 and offered to sell great numbers of cloves to whoever would provide them with weapons, Gowa-Talloq - constrained by its 1637 treaty and cautious of provoking another war with the Dutch - provided only limited support.
Eventually a bahar (app. 800 grams) of cloves, which sold for 100 reals in 1641, were valued at 225 reals by 1643 and 250 reals by 1645. The English even worried that Makassar would lose its clove supply entirely, although that threat did not yet materialize. So in some ways, peace with the Dutch menaced Makassar's economic base.17
Yet Gowa-Talloq expanded to an unprecedented extent in these years, north into Minahasa and beyond, west into the east coast of Borneo, and south into many Nusa Tenggara islands like Lombok and Timor. Makassar itself remained among the greatest cities in Southeast Asia. Although new forms of trade not involving the Dutch did emerge, including a great upsurge in trade with the Spanish Philippines (such as reselling English weapons to Manila), often Gowa-Talloq's expansion in these sixteen years were because of the Dutch and their commercial demand, not in spite of them.
One example might be the invasion of Timor. With relations restored with the VOC, Gowa-Talloq envisioned a plan to make Makassar the primary supplier of sandalwood for the Company. Larantuka, a major Portuguese settlement in between the sandalwood island of Timor and South Sulawesi, posed the only obstacle. Despite the long-standing friendship with the Portuguese, Tumammaliang ri Timoroq, king of Talloq, voyaged south with around 6,000 troops to take Larantuka. He was defeated in a show of Portuguese valiance and moved his army to Timor instead, where he converted local chieftains to Islam and took 4,000 Timorese slaves back home. However, many of Gowa-Talloq's newly won Timorese domans were regained by the Portuguese when Tumammaliang ri Timoroq died soon after his return. Ultimately, Gowa-Talloq failed to become the primary sandalwood exporter to the Company and friendly relations between Portugal and Makassar soon resumed. This episode, however, shows how Gowa-Talloq now had the choice to ally with the Company against its traditional allies in order to pursue new economic strategies.18
Another way the VOC bolstered Makassar's fortunes in the 1640s was by conquering Portuguese Melaka (Malacca). In the long term the conquest of Melaka allowed the Dutch to focus more on strengthening their spice monopolies instead of the Portuguese, and so was a bad thing for South Sulawesi. But in the short term it redirected the entire Portuguese (and much of the Indian Muslim) trading network to Makassar, where the Portuguese could be as safe "as if they had no enemies in India [i.e. Southeast Asia as well as India], since they had never once been attacked there."
The fall of Melaka also led to the emigration of the three most prominent merchants of Makassar in the 1640s and 1650s. These were the Portuguese Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo, a personal friend of Gowa and Talloq's kings who was "the author of, and driving force behind, the [Makassar] rulers' strong involvement in trade," and the Indian Muslims 'Mapule' and 'Mamet Saphy.'19 Mamet Saphy was the agent of Golkonda, an amazingly opulent Indian sultanate (hence why, even today, Golconda in English means "a source of wealth"). Golkonda's extensive trading network flooded Southeast Indian markets with luxury Indian textiles at cheap prices, and South Sulawesi's integration into this network further increased both its commercial ties with both India and the rest of Southeast Asia and the quantity of fine Indian cloth in the peninsula.20
Finally, we should note other ties between Gowa-Talloq and the VOC in this period of peace. For example, consider Karaeng Pattingalloang, chancellor (tumabicara-butta) of Gowa throughout this period. An intensely inquisitive man, he wanted to buy the following from the VOC: "various rarities, including two globes, a large world map or mappamundi, with the description in the Spanish, Portuguese or Latin language [all of which Pattingalloang could read], a book describing the whole world, atlas in Latin, Spanish or Portuguese with its maps." Three years later the Dutch finally procured "two globes of 157-160 inch circumference, of wood or copper, from which the north and south poles can be placed" to give to Pattingalloang. Clearly, the elite of Makassar recognized - even respected - the scientific and geographic prowess of the Dutch. And in their turn, the greatest Dutch poet of the era, Joost van den Vondel, commemorated Pattingalloang in a way that is very different from the poem I quoted in my first post:
16 There are very few sources in English on this treaty of 1637. I draw largely on a summary of the Corpus Diplomaticum Neerlando Indicum, a venerable collection of primary sources in Dutch. Leonard Andaya discusses it briefly in his 1978 article "Treaty conceptions and misconceptions: A case study from South Sulawesi." I've seen a dissertation from Leiden University which was pretty interesting in its interpretation of the treaty, but I'll wait until it's published/gets cited more.
17 From Villier's article "One of the Especiallest Flowers in our Garden"
18 This is extensively discussed in Lords of the Land, Lords of the Sea: Conflict and adaptation in early colonial Timor, 1600-1800 by Hans Hagerdal, p.83-91. From a Timorese perspective, this invasion is interesting because it was the first major foreign invasion of the island, forever remembered in the collective memory for that reason alone, and made links to Talloq a means of gaining legitimacy for many Timorese chiefdoms.
19 These are VOC transliterations, and modern transliterations of their actual names would probably be quite different. For instance, 'Mamet Saphy' is also called 'Mameth Chaffia,' so I am almost completely sure his name would nowadays be written as 'Mahmud Jaffar' or something similar.
20 See Heather Sutherland's "Trade, court and company: Makassar in the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries." Vieira has a 1967 biography written about him, Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo: A Portuguese Merchant-Adventurer in Southeast Asia, 1624-1667, which, despite its age, still remains excellent.
21 All from Anthony Reid's "A Great Seventeenth Century Indonesian Family: Karaeng Matoaya and Pattingalloang of Tallo'"
In 1651, Majira, a chieftain in spice-producing Ambon, rebelled against the authority of the Company and its ally, the sultan of Ternate. This was in direct response to a new Dutch restriction on the planting of clove trees in Majira's district, part of an unending stream of revolts in early 17th-century Maluku against the VOC's monopolies which often ruined the trade-dependent local economy. But unlike in the 1640s, this time Gowa-Talloq came to the rebels' aid with a fleet of 30 to 100 ships. So the peace ended and the second war between the VOC and South Sulawesi began.22
Most of the war was fought to the east, in the myriad islands of Maluku and in islands off eastern Sulawesi. But the VOC had a devastating weapon to use against Makassar; the blockade. The Dutch blockade of 1653-1655 was far more effective than ever before. For almost three years trade was at a near-standstill in the port. Vieira noted that the aristocracy remained dedicated to the war, the common people in the metropolis were having serious doubts:
The difficult war - the most difficult Gowa-Talloq had fought for almost a century - led to economic hardships in other ways. Pressed on money, the government abandoned its careful management of the currency system (which had had a stable value for several decades) and filled the theoretically gold coins with copper.
But we should still note that the vast majority - almost 90% - of the population of South Sulawesi was agrarian. Again, for the average person - probably a rice paddy farmer far removed from Makassar - the VOC would have posed a threat only by provoking the rulers of Gowa to call upon his or her corvee labor. While many Europeans thought only of the city when they discussed Gowa-Talloq, the simple reality was that like almost everywhere in the seventeenth-century world, the average man was a farmer in the countryside, distant from the centers of power.
In 1655 peace was made, as the VOC itself felt the economic costs of war and saw potential threats in Aceh, Palembang, Banten, Ceylon, and especially the Chinese coast with Zheng Chenggong's Ming loyalists. The treaty involved a reaffirmation of the VOC monopoly but did not involve any particular humiliation for Gowa-Talloq. Nevertheless, neither side was satisfied and war would resume in 1660, when a major fort in Makassar would fall, for the first time, to the Dutch.
Novel forms of trade emerged. Both the English and Mamet Saphy chose to concentrate on tortoiseshell, with the English in particular hoping that tortoiseshell, wood, wax, ivory, and goods like Japanese copper that were drawn to Makassar by its entrepot status would make up for the loss of the spice trade. But even these goods were considered too expensive in a Dutch report in 1656, and in any case there was generally insufficient demand for them, especially with the Chinese market (which was much more interested in tortoiseshell or sea cucumbers than spices) in utter case due to the Ming-Qing transition.
Political instability ensued after the death of Pattingalloang; although there was rarely open conflict, Sultan Hasanuddin (king of Gowa) and two members of the Talloq royal dynasty clashed bitterly with each other over who to appoint as chancellor. And with the great tensions between Makassar and the VOC, the English bemoaned that "these kings by their avarice in business are degenerating from their ancestors" by forcing merchants to sell at low prices.
All in all, said the English, "the trade of this place is not as it formerly was."
But one missionary in the late 1650s was still astonished by the liberality of Makassar:
22 Majira's insurrection, often called the Hoamoal War, and elements of the subsequent war between Gowa and the VOC is described in "War-Making, Raiding, Slave-Hunting and Piracy in the Malukan Archipelago" by M. Lobato in Piracy and surreptitious activities in the Malay Archipelago and adjacent seas, 1600-1840. The encyclopedia The Dutch Encounter with Asia, 1600-1950 also has a good article beginning in p.136.
23 See especially Sutherland's "Trade, court and company: Makassar in the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries," Villier's "Makassar : The Rise and Fall of an East Indonesian Maritime Trading State : 1512-1669," and Boxer's biography of Vieira.
submitted by Vir-victus to BEIC_EastIndiaCompany [link] [comments]
The mid-1630s were generally bad years for South Sulawesi for reasons other than the depredations of the Dutch blockade of 1634-1635. In 1636 a devastating "plague" - perhaps associated with increasing commercialization, which introduced previously unknown pathogens to the peninsula - killed 60,000 people in and around Makassar alone in just forty days. So the ''Diaries'' entry for July 2, 1636, is dark indeed:
Spoke Karaeng Matoaya [the capable chancellor of Gowa and king of Talloq]: "We must all protect ourselves from raging epidemics and starvation"Three months later, Karaeng Matoaya "died of disease" at the age of 63 after having dominated South Sulawesi for 43 years. During his long tenure as king and chancellor, he had made it possible for Makassar to grow into one of the great cities of the world and had introduced Islam, galley ships, muskets, coinage, and an array of other innovations in South Sulawesi society. He was to be missed. According to the Talloq Chronicle:
He was loved by merchants, by vassals, by anaq karaeng [princes], by the tumailalang [ministers], by the gallarrang [regional nobility], by the household.The death of such an inspiring ruler must have shaken Gowa-Talloq's self-confidence as well.
This is all to explain the treaty of 1637 in which the seemingly interminable war between Gowa and the VOC was finally put to an end. As we've seen, the governments in Makassar were growing tired of war. The VOC, too, sought a more pacifist strategy under the new Governor-General Anthony van Diemen, who had already negotiated a treaty with the West Javanese sultanate of Banten in 1636 and had attempted to establish general peace in Maluku. So van Diemen sailed into Makassar on June 22, 1637, negotiated with Sultan Ala'uddin for four days, and peace returned in June 26. In this treaty the VOC factory in Makassar was reestablished after two decades, Gowa and Talloq promised to ban their merchants from sailing either to the Portuguese capital at Melaka (Malacca) or to the spice-producing island of Seram, and the VOC in their turn acknowledged the vast dominion of Makassar.16 This peace lasted for sixteen years, until 1653.
The return of the Dutch to Makassar was hardly welcomed by the English and, presumably, other established merchants there. The Dutch began buying spices in the port and, by their habit of "prodigally bidding more than the current price," soon drove prices up. Worse, the strengthening of the Dutch monopoly in the spice islands of Maluku meant that fewer spices of poorer quality (e.g. cloves mixed with useless stalks) were reaching Makassar. Although anti-Dutch rebels were active in the Malukan island of Ambon until 1646 and offered to sell great numbers of cloves to whoever would provide them with weapons, Gowa-Talloq - constrained by its 1637 treaty and cautious of provoking another war with the Dutch - provided only limited support.
Eventually a bahar (app. 800 grams) of cloves, which sold for 100 reals in 1641, were valued at 225 reals by 1643 and 250 reals by 1645. The English even worried that Makassar would lose its clove supply entirely, although that threat did not yet materialize. So in some ways, peace with the Dutch menaced Makassar's economic base.17
Yet Gowa-Talloq expanded to an unprecedented extent in these years, north into Minahasa and beyond, west into the east coast of Borneo, and south into many Nusa Tenggara islands like Lombok and Timor. Makassar itself remained among the greatest cities in Southeast Asia. Although new forms of trade not involving the Dutch did emerge, including a great upsurge in trade with the Spanish Philippines (such as reselling English weapons to Manila), often Gowa-Talloq's expansion in these sixteen years were because of the Dutch and their commercial demand, not in spite of them.
One example might be the invasion of Timor. With relations restored with the VOC, Gowa-Talloq envisioned a plan to make Makassar the primary supplier of sandalwood for the Company. Larantuka, a major Portuguese settlement in between the sandalwood island of Timor and South Sulawesi, posed the only obstacle. Despite the long-standing friendship with the Portuguese, Tumammaliang ri Timoroq, king of Talloq, voyaged south with around 6,000 troops to take Larantuka. He was defeated in a show of Portuguese valiance and moved his army to Timor instead, where he converted local chieftains to Islam and took 4,000 Timorese slaves back home. However, many of Gowa-Talloq's newly won Timorese domans were regained by the Portuguese when Tumammaliang ri Timoroq died soon after his return. Ultimately, Gowa-Talloq failed to become the primary sandalwood exporter to the Company and friendly relations between Portugal and Makassar soon resumed. This episode, however, shows how Gowa-Talloq now had the choice to ally with the Company against its traditional allies in order to pursue new economic strategies.18
Another way the VOC bolstered Makassar's fortunes in the 1640s was by conquering Portuguese Melaka (Malacca). In the long term the conquest of Melaka allowed the Dutch to focus more on strengthening their spice monopolies instead of the Portuguese, and so was a bad thing for South Sulawesi. But in the short term it redirected the entire Portuguese (and much of the Indian Muslim) trading network to Makassar, where the Portuguese could be as safe "as if they had no enemies in India [i.e. Southeast Asia as well as India], since they had never once been attacked there."
The fall of Melaka also led to the emigration of the three most prominent merchants of Makassar in the 1640s and 1650s. These were the Portuguese Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo, a personal friend of Gowa and Talloq's kings who was "the author of, and driving force behind, the [Makassar] rulers' strong involvement in trade," and the Indian Muslims 'Mapule' and 'Mamet Saphy.'19 Mamet Saphy was the agent of Golkonda, an amazingly opulent Indian sultanate (hence why, even today, Golconda in English means "a source of wealth"). Golkonda's extensive trading network flooded Southeast Indian markets with luxury Indian textiles at cheap prices, and South Sulawesi's integration into this network further increased both its commercial ties with both India and the rest of Southeast Asia and the quantity of fine Indian cloth in the peninsula.20
Finally, we should note other ties between Gowa-Talloq and the VOC in this period of peace. For example, consider Karaeng Pattingalloang, chancellor (tumabicara-butta) of Gowa throughout this period. An intensely inquisitive man, he wanted to buy the following from the VOC: "various rarities, including two globes, a large world map or mappamundi, with the description in the Spanish, Portuguese or Latin language [all of which Pattingalloang could read], a book describing the whole world, atlas in Latin, Spanish or Portuguese with its maps." Three years later the Dutch finally procured "two globes of 157-160 inch circumference, of wood or copper, from which the north and south poles can be placed" to give to Pattingalloang. Clearly, the elite of Makassar recognized - even respected - the scientific and geographic prowess of the Dutch. And in their turn, the greatest Dutch poet of the era, Joost van den Vondel, commemorated Pattingalloang in a way that is very different from the poem I quoted in my first post:
East India House sends a globe [Dien Aardkloot zend 't Oostindisch huis,]But this peace - and even respect - was not to last either.21
To the great Pattingalloang, [Den Grooten Pantagoule t'huis,]
Whose endlessly curious brain, [Wiens aldoorsnuffelende brein,]
Finds a whole world too small. [Een gansche wereld valt te klein.]
16 There are very few sources in English on this treaty of 1637. I draw largely on a summary of the Corpus Diplomaticum Neerlando Indicum, a venerable collection of primary sources in Dutch. Leonard Andaya discusses it briefly in his 1978 article "Treaty conceptions and misconceptions: A case study from South Sulawesi." I've seen a dissertation from Leiden University which was pretty interesting in its interpretation of the treaty, but I'll wait until it's published/gets cited more.
17 From Villier's article "One of the Especiallest Flowers in our Garden"
18 This is extensively discussed in Lords of the Land, Lords of the Sea: Conflict and adaptation in early colonial Timor, 1600-1800 by Hans Hagerdal, p.83-91. From a Timorese perspective, this invasion is interesting because it was the first major foreign invasion of the island, forever remembered in the collective memory for that reason alone, and made links to Talloq a means of gaining legitimacy for many Timorese chiefdoms.
19 These are VOC transliterations, and modern transliterations of their actual names would probably be quite different. For instance, 'Mamet Saphy' is also called 'Mameth Chaffia,' so I am almost completely sure his name would nowadays be written as 'Mahmud Jaffar' or something similar.
20 See Heather Sutherland's "Trade, court and company: Makassar in the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries." Vieira has a 1967 biography written about him, Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo: A Portuguese Merchant-Adventurer in Southeast Asia, 1624-1667, which, despite its age, still remains excellent.
21 All from Anthony Reid's "A Great Seventeenth Century Indonesian Family: Karaeng Matoaya and Pattingalloang of Tallo'"
War returns
By the early 1650s the specter of war haunted South Sulawesi again. There were multiple proximate causes of this. First, in 1652 the Dutch had captured ships belonging to Vieira and said that they would confiscate Vieira's portion of the cargo, while returning to Makassar those goods that belonged to the Gowa-Talloq government. Gowa-Talloq's rulers claimed that the significant majority of the cargo was actually owned by themselves; the Dutch doubted this, provoking distrust. Second, ever more stringent enforcement of the Dutch spice monopolies led to increasing clashes with Makassar shipping and a rise in tensions.In 1651, Majira, a chieftain in spice-producing Ambon, rebelled against the authority of the Company and its ally, the sultan of Ternate. This was in direct response to a new Dutch restriction on the planting of clove trees in Majira's district, part of an unending stream of revolts in early 17th-century Maluku against the VOC's monopolies which often ruined the trade-dependent local economy. But unlike in the 1640s, this time Gowa-Talloq came to the rebels' aid with a fleet of 30 to 100 ships. So the peace ended and the second war between the VOC and South Sulawesi began.22
Most of the war was fought to the east, in the myriad islands of Maluku and in islands off eastern Sulawesi. But the VOC had a devastating weapon to use against Makassar; the blockade. The Dutch blockade of 1653-1655 was far more effective than ever before. For almost three years trade was at a near-standstill in the port. Vieira noted that the aristocracy remained dedicated to the war, the common people in the metropolis were having serious doubts:
For up till now they were enjoying peaceful prosperity and the kingdom was well supplied with textiles which they bought and with spices which they sold, whereas this year they did not receive a single piece of cloth, nor did anyone buy their spices; and they wonder whether the same will not happen again in future years.Here we have, as you say, an example of how "the average person" could indeed "have much to fear from the VOC." But eventually even the nobility were in consternation, as Vieira, an ardent supporter of war against the Dutch, noted:
even the kings and queens complained that they had nothing to wear, apart from the fact that there was no trade at all. The people all complained and wanted peace, and many of them bitterly hated me, since they realized that I was the cause of the war.This also shows how deeply dependent Makassar was on foreign trade for basic commodities such as cloth. During two generations of prosperity the city had become accustomed to luxury, and so the cutting of trade was that much more shocking. Of course, Vieira must be somewhat exaggerating, since we know the English were buying tortoiseshell and Vieira himself was buying cloves in 1654. But the impact of the blockade must indeed have been quite significant.23
The difficult war - the most difficult Gowa-Talloq had fought for almost a century - led to economic hardships in other ways. Pressed on money, the government abandoned its careful management of the currency system (which had had a stable value for several decades) and filled the theoretically gold coins with copper.
But we should still note that the vast majority - almost 90% - of the population of South Sulawesi was agrarian. Again, for the average person - probably a rice paddy farmer far removed from Makassar - the VOC would have posed a threat only by provoking the rulers of Gowa to call upon his or her corvee labor. While many Europeans thought only of the city when they discussed Gowa-Talloq, the simple reality was that like almost everywhere in the seventeenth-century world, the average man was a farmer in the countryside, distant from the centers of power.
In 1655 peace was made, as the VOC itself felt the economic costs of war and saw potential threats in Aceh, Palembang, Banten, Ceylon, and especially the Chinese coast with Zheng Chenggong's Ming loyalists. The treaty involved a reaffirmation of the VOC monopoly but did not involve any particular humiliation for Gowa-Talloq. Nevertheless, neither side was satisfied and war would resume in 1660, when a major fort in Makassar would fall, for the first time, to the Dutch.
Makassar in the late 1560s
In 1652 the Dutch had convinced the sultan of Ternate to execute the 'eradication policy,' in which all clove trees outside of Dutch-run plantations were destroyed to make the monopoly easier and create an artificial scarcity, raising prices. Worse, by the mid-1650s rebellions against Ternate had been suppressed with Dutch help. Makassar was in need of a "painful commercial reorientation" as the spice trade collapsed: in 1654 the price of a bahar of cloves in Makassar was 360 mas (around 200 reals), but by 1659 the price had more than doubled to 800 mas.Novel forms of trade emerged. Both the English and Mamet Saphy chose to concentrate on tortoiseshell, with the English in particular hoping that tortoiseshell, wood, wax, ivory, and goods like Japanese copper that were drawn to Makassar by its entrepot status would make up for the loss of the spice trade. But even these goods were considered too expensive in a Dutch report in 1656, and in any case there was generally insufficient demand for them, especially with the Chinese market (which was much more interested in tortoiseshell or sea cucumbers than spices) in utter case due to the Ming-Qing transition.
Political instability ensued after the death of Pattingalloang; although there was rarely open conflict, Sultan Hasanuddin (king of Gowa) and two members of the Talloq royal dynasty clashed bitterly with each other over who to appoint as chancellor. And with the great tensions between Makassar and the VOC, the English bemoaned that "these kings by their avarice in business are degenerating from their ancestors" by forcing merchants to sell at low prices.
All in all, said the English, "the trade of this place is not as it formerly was."
But one missionary in the late 1650s was still astonished by the liberality of Makassar:
Many Malays also repaired thither, and I have seen an ambassador there from the great Nabob, that is of Golconda. No man paid anchorage or any other duty there, and saving the presents that captains of ships and merchants of note made to the Sumbane, [king of Gowa] all the trade was free. This made it the universal mart of those parts of the world.Makassar was a city in decline, yes, but a great city nevertheless, still insistent on its doctrine of free trade. The city's splendor would not die until it was brutally dismembered by the Dutch and the Bone Bugis during the Makassar War (1666-1669), when Gowa-Talloq's empire was destroyed.23
22 Majira's insurrection, often called the Hoamoal War, and elements of the subsequent war between Gowa and the VOC is described in "War-Making, Raiding, Slave-Hunting and Piracy in the Malukan Archipelago" by M. Lobato in Piracy and surreptitious activities in the Malay Archipelago and adjacent seas, 1600-1840. The encyclopedia The Dutch Encounter with Asia, 1600-1950 also has a good article beginning in p.136.
23 See especially Sutherland's "Trade, court and company: Makassar in the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries," Villier's "Makassar : The Rise and Fall of an East Indonesian Maritime Trading State : 1512-1669," and Boxer's biography of Vieira.
2024.04.20 01:25 VeloraVenn Lyla — the Flow & nature-loving Majiri character sheet
 | I finally finished this character sheet of my character Lyla! Here is her in-depth biography: submitted by VeloraVenn to Palia [link] [comments] Born blind in the isles of Inyrevn, Lyla lived a fairly simple life in a houseboat. She navigated the world with the help of her Palcat Celestia, who, very early in her life, took it upon herself to adopt the role of her seeing-eye pet. After a terrible storm took the lives of Lyla’s parents in her youth, and in a fit of despair and motivation, Lyla decided to embark on a journey to find herself and her true Path, which had so far remained a mystery to her (although always knew it could not be as a mariner, like her parents). Lyla traveled to Kilima Valley, Harvest Meadows, and even camped once in the Elderwoods (although she did not sense the legendary creature nearby). Eventually, she found residence in an abandoned beach shack in Bahari Bay, which was near enough to the ocean to hear the calming waves, yet still nestled on a cliff in a grove of both juniper and Flow trees. Not long after settling in, and much to her shock, she found ancient, partially dismantled Galdur wash ashore. Covered in Dragon’s Beard Peat, the mechanical being was still partially functional, but its left leg was missing, and some of its runes were damaged, resulting in a loss of connectivity between its remaining limbs and even its vocal box, rendering the Galdur mute. Determined to see it mostly restored, she toiled for weeks until she finally was able to see it operational again. Grateful, the Galdur introduced itself as Marwe, a machine built for the purpose of record keeping. Marwe declared herself forever in Lyla’s debt. Thus, Marwe moved in and began to document everything Lyla did, including the process she had taken to fix Marwe. (Marwe even discovered a love for accessorising, often borrowing Lyla’s hats, scarves, and ribbons.) Naturally curious, Lyla probed an often-question-dodging Marwe if the Galdur possessed any ancient archives on humans and the world from long ago. Dejectedly, Marwe acquiesced, admitting to her greatest loss. She detailed the experience of how many of her personal archives were lost ages ago – ripped from her internal workings and her very memory, stolen by pirates and the cartels. One trove of information she had later heard was either buried in the sand like treasure or was buried in a different sort of fashion, lost in a forgotten underground city far below the soil. Happily, Lyla, Marwe, and Celestia adapted to their new lives together, even adding additional sections to their makeshift house. Over time, Lyla found herself collecting Flow items, be they flowers, fish, or fungi. She was fascinated. When Marwe informed her Flow could be incorporated into mechanical parts and even inside people, Lyla was fixated. She was under the belief she could use Flow to help her see for the very first time. Although a cure for blindness had not previously been known to exist when it came to Flow being used as a restorative as far as Marwe knew, the Galdur was absolutely ecstatic to document this new endeavor in its entirety. With enthusiasm to guide them, they even sought shifty underground brokers to help get them in touch with someone who could provide them with Flow. It wasn’t long thereafter that Lyla’s life was transformed. An informant had put a fiery Grimalkin Flow smuggler by the name of Vulka in touch with Lyla. Vulka and Lyla hit it off instantly, their conflicting personalities somehow meshing perfectly, which worked out well, considering Vulka had access to sources of raw Flow with which to provide Lyla. Deciding her invested interest now as a friend and Flow enthusiast was enough to warrant her own aid, Vulka became the final asset to their Flow experimentation team. As they grew close, Vulka divulged that she had been both the runt and the youngest of her littermates growing up, and, despite tradition, she had kept in touch with her big brother Zar, the oldest of her siblings. Zar had a penchant for looking out for Vulka. When they were kittens guarding piles of gold that they had been entrusted to sleep on, Zar had helped Vulka defend her pile from their other and fiercer littermates. When Vulka grew old enough, Zar taught her that her size didn’t have to be her downfall, that she could use her opponents’ strength and momentum against them. When Vulka and Zar were weaned and set out on their own paths, Zar stuck with Vulka and helped her avoid the cartels, instead propelling them to become self-sufficient as smugglers, slowly working their way to the big leagues with each job they took. Vulka spent most of her youth in the isles of Inyrevn, where she and Zar voyaged on their makeshift ship from location to location. It was only as a young adult did Vulka find herself in Umbraa, the underground nation known for being the leading manufacturer of advanced Flow technology and an independent trading partner of the Palian Republic. It was there she met the informant who put her on the path to meeting Lyla. At last, one warm, summer day, Lyla and her friends were successful in imbuing her eyes with Flow. While it disappointedly didn’t grant her perfect vision, she was at least able to discern shapes and outlines. She was, though, granted an unexpected boon: the ability to see all sources of Flow effortlessly, even when concealed behind objects. Anything with Flow would positively glow like white fire in her newfound vision. This, in turn, allowed Lyla to track Flow, allowing her to meet magical creatures that not only instilled fondness and joy, but inspired her. She befriended several forest creatures, even teaching them new behaviors and tricks and communicating with them in her own special way. It was then she finally knew her true calling: animal training for the advantage of helping others like her who could use the assistance of such pets to aid them in their daily lives. More secretly, however, on the side, Lyla works with Vulka and Marwe in tinkering with mechanical Flow augmentation, seeking unconventional solutions to world problems. |