Race Information

• Name: Leiden Marathon
• Date: May 12, 2024
• Distance: 42.195km
• Location: Leiden, NL
• Website: https://marathon.nl
• Time: 2:59:57

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Sub 2:50	No
B	PR (< 2:53:59)	No
C	Sub 3	...Yes

Splits

Kilometer	Time	Pace
5	20:43	04:08
10	20:52	04:10
15	20:51	04:10
20	20:50	04:10
1st Half	1:28:13	04:09
25	21:21	04:16
30	20:59	04:11
35	21:27	04:17
40	22:02	04:24
2nd Half	1:31:44	04:18
Full	2:59:57	04:14

Training

After putting on far more off-season weight that I could possibly imagine, I started my 16-week marathon program in the second week of January, with the dual goals of losing 10kg to get back to race weight, and somehow getting my fitness up to a level where I could possibly set a new PR. Both were lofty, and being in my late 40's the idea of getting PRs keeps getting less and less feasible. But I'm not going to let a fancy word like "feasible" get in my way.
This would be my 10th marathon, a bit over 10 years after I ran my first. My previous 9 were all big city races, but I specifically decided to run my 10th in the relatively small town of Leiden because it was the first and only marathon that my father ran, in 1997, when he was 50 (he ran a very respectable time of 3h43m). So I wanted, as a tribute to him, to literally follow in his footsteps. Leiden was his favourite city, the city where both his parents came from, and also the city where I attended high school for 3 years, so it holds a special place in my heart as well.
As with the past 8 marathons, I followed the "Run Your BQ" program designed by Jason Fitzgerald. He no longer offers this program for sale, but I've developed my own simple web app that lets me follow a variety of programes for any given race day. This might be the last time I follow this program since I want to try out something new next time, but so far it's been quite good at getting me to keep running stronger and relatively injury-free, something which keeps getting more relevant.
As one might expect or personally know from experience, getting through base training while 10kg over your ideal weight is not much fun. But sticking to that 80/20 effort meant I never did feel too strained or overtrained, and I managed to finish the 16 weeks strongly. I also managed to arrive at my race weight just in time (intermittent fasting works well for me), and gauging from my final long run at race effort, I felt that a new PR could happen, if conditions on the day were ideal. IF.

Pre-race

As the race day approached, the weather forecast became increasingly concerning. It was predicted 2 weeks ahead of time that the day would be sunny and hot, at 25C. Usually predicting Dutch weather that far in advance is about as useful as throwing cooked spaghetti at a wall to see how long it sticks, but unfortunately, the meteorologists were spot-on this time. Having run NYC marathon in 2022, I knew that I don't fare well at these kinds of temperatures, and I was reasonably worried that I would fall apart in the last 10K, as I did then. Regardless of my fitness level, I knew that a PR was unlikely under these circumstances. But of course I took every precaution I could to still give myself the best chance. Super light Nike Aeroswift singlet, Raidlight multi-pocket shorts, Nike Alphafly 1, and most importantly a white running cap, which would prove essential for heat management. I had 7 Maurten hydrogels with me (3 with caffeine, 4 without), and would be taking these at ~5K intervals.

Race

Gun start was at 10am, and just as predicted, it was then already 18C and not a cloud in the sky. There was however a pretty decent wind (well, a breeze for Dutch standards) which had the effect of providing cooling but also being strong enough to slow you down when running into it (hence the slowdown between 20-25K). Leiden's course is flat however 80% of it goes through farmlands, which provides zero shelter from both sun and wind. I made use of every single water station - and there were plenty - taking a sponge of cold water I could use to soak my cap, as well as a cup of water to keep hydrated. Also there were at least 8 makeshift cold water showers along the course, which were all greatly appreciated.
Nonetheless, by the 25K mark I could already notice the quads were starting to get unhappy with me, and maintaining the pace would push me to threshold and possibly beyond, which I really did not want. On top of that the temperature steadily climbed and by noon it was already at around 23C. So I had no choice but to listen to reason and put aside my PR dreams, make sure I don't hit the wall and just ride it out for a sub 3.
Up until 38K, although in quite a bit of discomfort, I was pretty sure I had banked enough decently fast splits to be able to more or less cruise to the sub 3. But my head math sucks when under these conditions, and the closer I got to the finish the more I understood that this was far from a given. Indeed, with just 1200m left, I only had about 4m40s to make it to the finish. I had the adrenaline surge that kicked me into zone 5, enough for a 4:00/km pace to the finish, but unfortunately the twists and turns of the Leiden streets, along with the throngs of 21K runners sharing the course with us, meant it was really really hard to maintain a finishing kick speed (this marathon is not great if that is part of your race strategy). With 200m to go, the clock at the finish said 2:59:25, and I knew I was in trouble. I whispered to myself that there is no fucking way I was going to let this slip away from me, and found a new gear and enough space between the other runners to thrust myself across the line at 2:59:57. Godverdomme, that was close.

Post-race

Despite being in the hurt locker for most of the second half of the race, I wasn't dying after the finish. The light cramps I felt in the last 5K were magically gone, and I actually felt pretty ok, all things considered. The same cannot be said for many other runners I saw in the last few kilometers of the course and just beyond the finish line. The heat had taken its toll. Ambulances were out in full force and stressed to beyond capacity, and as a result the race organisers in conjunction with the mayor of Leiden made the tough decision at 16:00 to cancel the upcoming 10K event, as well as advise any remaining 21K runners still on the course to abandon their effort, for their own safety.
I was "lucky" enough that the 42K was the first race of the day and as such we were spared from the very highest temperatures, but the slower marathon and most of the half marathon runners were forced to endure 25C while crossing the finish. There were dozens of runners admitted to various local hospitals with dehydration and sun stroke symptoms, but fortunately nothing tragic.
While I didn't manage to keep to my planned pace (negative split when the temperature is rising is damn near impossible), I'm so glad I didn't blow up, and still managed to get my C goal. It was far from my fastest, but definitely one of my most satisfying results, considering how tough it was. An extra bonus was managing to finish 2nd in my age group.
Marathon #11 will be in Berlin later this year, let's hope for 12C and cloudy!
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.

Im going to be completely honest with this post. I have nothing to lie about.
I fell in love 6 years ago with this girl. When we first kissed we had literal fireworks go off and it wasn't a holiday. It was that moment I knew I loved her and wanted to be with her. About 1 ½ years into our relationship our son was born. We started having issues around here this time. During this time we tried to be more open with our relationship. But I fucked up our relationship and start talking to other girls out of spite.
Why was I spite full? because I found her selling nudes to her friends, She blamed me for cheating (at the time i wasnt), She tried to kill herself with me in the car (I stopped her from doing it. But again she blames me because i wrestled the keys from her and i was too rough. However i was the one that left with bruises and scratches while she was perfectly fine. ) She made sure to tell me every argument how im not big enough for her.
I never slept with any of the girls. I guess I was just seeking attention or some affection. This put a huge strain on us. At the time I didnt feel loved from her. She was an amazing mom and GF and was best women I could ever ask for. But I just felt like she wanted something bettemore. She always made sure to remind me how she enjoyed sex with her ex more. He could pleasure her in ways i never could. I felt hopeless I couldnt even pleasure the girl i loved with out her thinking of someone else. It would make me go soft and we would argue. She would tell me that shes too loose and that she should've never slept with her ex because of that. It just created an endless cycle of really great sex, Sex that we would both end up crying over.
We shortly after started using toys to spice things up and make it more pleasurable for her. until I heard her moaning a way shes never moaned before. it was that moment i realized I never pleasured her. She faked it.
We were planning a trip to LA for a anime EXPO. I had tricked her into giving me her ring size. I spent 1k on just the hotel and tickets and VIP tickets to a after party. I was about to marry her. I was pricing rings out and trying to get the best deal. But then this....
Almost 3 years into our relationship and things are getting bad. Shes drinking almost everyday and im working avoiding the drama. I have friends over one time and were building computers. She got so drunk in front of them she started spilling out my insecurity's. everyone told her to stop and just go lay down. She stood up and almost face planted into the ground but i caught her. I put her on my back and walked her to our room. I explained to her that she hurt me really bad and I cant even talk to her because i was so upset. She just replied "im nothing to you anyways.". I did my best to tell her i love her im just upset and need some time away. So i left her in the room drunk. (looking back this was a huge mistake) When i came back she was crying and just saying i dont love her anymore. no matter what i said i couldnt convince her otherwise. we went to bed upset.
about a month later we have our big fight. Im trying to get ready for work and shes leaving to her sisters graduation. Shes already mad im not going because of work. She starts asking for the keys while im brushing my teeth. I told her theyre in my pocket give me a second. she came in and patted me down like i was in jail (I have PTSD from going to juvi for a false report. She knows this.) I snap and tell her dont ever pat me down like im an inmate. She just said you use to be one. IDK what is was but that set me off. I held my anger in and didnt say a single word. Until i asked her for the keys. She told me they were on the coffee table. I couldnt find them, so i kept asking and she gave the same answer. after repeatedly looking and asking, I eventually snapped and shoved her into her chair. She slid back in the chair and hit her head. I was in disbelief i just put my hands on the lady i love.(I was always taught to never do this. I have never put my hands on a lady that didnt put her hands on me. I live in a very ghetto city, women out here will throw hands like prisoners.) But out of anger i just told her to grab my keys. she grabbed them and just said im calling the cops. I left to work. I shouldve never left, I shoudlve done everything in my power to make it right. At work i was contemplating how i could make it better how i can fix us. then 2 cops walk in.
The next year and ahalf is just court and us not talking. I beat the case simply because she was caught lying and Im not a women beater. She even admitted that i have never done anything like this before. It was completely out of character for me to ever touch a women that way. I didnt even like doing those things sexually. it turned me off greatly. Till this day i regret it. I wish i never did it. It ruined everything we had. After the trial one of the jurors talked to me. ill never forget his words. " you need to find your zen. whatever it is you need to find it. Take a moment to yourself before you do something." During this time I cant find work because of the pending case so im broke almost died from starvation and had to resort to eating expired food or thrown away trash. I stayed with a friend for a month but his mom (he took care of her) didnt want me there any longer. So I left. That put a huge strain on our friendship.
After the case we start talking again. I ask her to take me back and give me another chance. She told me she didnt love me anymore and should've listened. But she still gave me another chance. When things were good they were great. we went on dates and spent time as a family. it was almost like we were a family. I never had a real family and it was odd for me. I guess i couldnt handle it or something. However I loved every second of it. But we start getting into agreements about the past. Both of us are gaslighting and claiming shit didnt happen when we both knew it did. Each time we get into an argument I flash back to that moment. Then i Flash back to what the juror told me. I thought finding some zen would just mean some time apart till we can talk normally. However that put alot of strain on us. We would be find for accouple weeks then not talk for accouple weeks. this had been repeating for a year.
Finally around christmas she told me she's done and im just a loser who wants to use her. That i just need to move on. I tried.. but I couldnt, I loved her and still do. She just insisted that i was using her and that these breaks we were taking were for me to sleep around with no consequence (I only slept with one girl this entire break up and that was while i was living with my friend.) while we were dating I stopped using dating apps and tried my best to focus on us. I wanted nothing more then for us to be a family again. But i guess she didnt believe it.
A month later my brother and I get into an argument. I was emotionally grieving still so i didn't have the energy to argue. So i just walked away. in doing so my brother took this as an opportunity to tackle me and procced to knock me out and beat on me. His adopted son had to pull him off of me. I went and grabbed a knife and told him to try it again. His wife called the police as I was trying to leave and they arrested me for various charges. when i went to jail I was SA and Assaulted by the sheriff deputies. They beat me in a cell and just claimed i was resisting. But they gave no commands and My arresting officer put it on his paper work that i was compliant. I have pictures to prove how bad they beat me. bruises from head to toe and a big welt on my forehead from one officer punching me while i was on the ground with them in full control of all my arms and legs.
My EX came and visited me in jail. I got out of jail and they dropped all they charges. My brothers wife had submitted videos thinking it would help her side but it disproved it. That night i told my ex she was my everything my world that i cant continue on without her. I needed my family. I needed her and my son in my life because im literally nothing with out them. (Before we got together i was a complete loser. everything I ever did was in for her and my son. even now im a complete loser hence why im writing this.) We spent the night a motel that night and I have to admit. If she didnt spend that night with me I wouldn't be here RN. I thought things would go back to normal. But i did the same BS. Each time I became emotionally overwhelmed I just shut everyone out so I woudlnt hurt them. I dont like hurting people emotionally or physically. So i thought it would be best to just leave them alone. I cant hurt those who im not around. This was again another mistake. I kept going back to shutting everyone out. She grew tired of it.
On easter 2024 we had our last moment together. That night I had noticed her phone blowing up with tinder notifications. for my own well being i decided to not look. But I had checked her instagram which was full of guys flirting with her. She didnt turn them down or state she was with someone. infact when i asked her about it she just told me she cant control what other guys say and we were together when it happened. But she can and it was... We didnt have sex we didnt cuddle. she just went straight to bed from work. We had planned to have easter together as a family. I was so excited because we didnt get to have christmas together. (I had spent christmas with my son but I was crying the whole day. I ruined my sons christmas because I couldnt hold it together.) We wake up two hours early. She took the whole two hours to get ready and made us late. I brought it up in the car and told her that she took to long so we missed everything. So we agreed to go to the 5pm easter. IDK what it was but I snapped. Maybe it was her telling me if i helped we would've been on time. (i did help and it we were still late) Maybe I was just overwhelmed because I couldnt provide for my family a decent easter. But i didnt want my son to see and I didnt want to go off on her because she didnt deserve that. So i got out of the car and told her to go home ill see her there. She left two hours away with my son and his easter gifts. For me it was an equal walk time. This is again another moment in which i fucked up and lost the girl of my dreams because I couldnt handle my emotions.
She kept making a statement that day "If all I do is piss you off then why are we together?" That kept playing in my mind that entire walk. But i figured by the time i got home she we could talk about it. I told her She didnt piss me off it just frustrated me that she cant see how her taking 2 hrs made us late. So I called her later on when i got home. I started apologizing for getting out of the car. I told my son that was not safe and never to do that. Then I went off on her and told her She ruined my easter like she ruined my christmas. I told her she was right if all she did was piss me off deliberately then why bother keep trying this? I again just blocked her. She tried to reach out to me on discord but I feared she was going to tell me to move on. So i didnt reply.
A month goes by and she wont let me see my son. She just says if you want him come get him. remind you its been almost 3 years and I havent been able to get a job because I fail almost every background check for my career. (security) I have applied to so many places and get ignored. even temp jobs or jobs people typically wouldn't want. There was no way I could drive a total of 4 hrs. I was scrounging for money just to put food on the table for my son. There been so many times where he asked me dad why arent you eating wiht me. I just tell him that I ate earlier and im not hungry. I also have other bills im behind on and theyre coming after me now. She convinced my son that i dont want to see him and that i dont care about them anymore. Everytime I would talk to them on the phone my son would question wether or not i loved him and would always ask why i dont come see him. TBH some of it felt like a trap. I felt like she wanted me to go over there so she could call the cops on me for picking up my son outside of designated hours. Or that she had her family waiting for me to shoot me. I could hear her in the background sounding out words to my son and he would start calling saying some really negative stuff. Irresponsible, disappointment, disgusting Those are the ones that I heard her sounding out with him. I lost my shit and went off on her and my son heard it all.
My poor boy.
I called her every name in the book and told her i still love hear but she drives me crazy. She made good points that if i loved her i wouldnt be saying these things also i wouldnt block her for weeks while were fighting. He heard her say she doesn't love me anymore and that her new lover stretched her out and she loved it. That i never loved her and just used her. I honestly was beyond hurt. I just told her i was happy someone was able to pleasure her in ways i never could that i wisht them the best. Then she kept egging it on and I snapped again threating him. Threating myself. It ended with her blocking me. and that was that. Havent heard from her in almost a week. Same with my son. I call everyday. (yes you can get around a blocked #)
Its mothers day and I havent stopped crying. I have her gift from when we were together. That was another reason it was hard for me to travel 2 hrs. I had spent the last couple months saving what i could to get her a gift.
Why am i writing this. Because im at my witts end. Im nothing with out her. She was my drive my focus and my world. My son gave me strength to be a better man and a father figure. I have nether now and i have no one to blame but myself. My own actions have pushed away those i love the most. I tried protecting them from the possibility that I might do something stupid again. That just pushed them further away. I ruined our relationship and shes found someone who can not only pleasure her but care for her. I just hope he makes her happy.
If youre reading this and you have someone special in your life... please do me a favor and tell them you love them and explain to them why you love them. Because one day you may never get to do it again. One day they may hate you and some poeple could look back and say yeah thats okay because i know i tried my best. But thats not the case here. I couldve done so much more to see her or plan dates with her. I shouldve tried harder to get a job and be a man. I ruined the best relationship I had. She was my world and I just let her go.
Part 2: Not about my EX
My dad had leukemia and survived and still chose to leave. He has gotten drunk and thrown fireball handles at the back of my head. He has spread rumors to my friends i was gay because i got a tongue piercing.
I was falsly imprisoned for a crime I didnt commit. I was a teenager i was with this girl and she lied to me. She said her ex raped her. The one time i happend to see him i was high AF but i felt like i had to defend her honor. He won that fight and I got a concussion that almost killed me. Her dad an adult rush me in my own home. but i got charged because i was caught on his property.(I went to his house to say goodbye to her. nothing more nothing less.) I served 150 days of my life in a cell. these are days ill never get back.
I was SA and assaulted by sheriff and no one believes me. the cops mocked me for me trying to file a complaint. other cops made jokes about me infront of my ex. "how can a women SA you. Are you gay?"
I was SA by a mentally challenged person at church. And again by my brothers friend. I never said anything because the mentally challenged person was caught doing it to someone else. My own brother (the one that tackled me) Mocked the kid and his older brother about this in front of me. "At least my little brother wasn't assaulted by and R word" He just didn't know i was the first victim.
My own actions have caused my family to leave me. I dont have physical custody because the courts gave her 100%. I cant even see my son or call him. She wont even obey the court orders. But the moment i want to spend more then 8 hrs a week with my son (only when were fighting) She calls the cops and tells them im not following court orders and im trying to kidnap my son. Then the cops get all tough guy and try to act like im some dead beat. How TF am I a bad dad if all I want is to spend time with him? How am I a bad dad if I Jumped throw a million hoops for the courts just to get visitation?
But to finally end this, I have reached my last resort. im enlisting into the military and if i dont get accepted im ending it all. I have nothing left for me here. I have ruined everything I have spent the last 6 years building. All i do is push away those who love me. And those who managed to stick around are tired of me. I feel like nothing but a burden and a POS dad for not keeping his family together.
I have no one to blame but myself. Thats why i have to eliminate the problem at its source. By either leaving or by not existing.

Context

This story fits into my world-building as an example of how people of the tribe at Saàkirlaasiik name one another. It illustrates that names are given by men to one another within their trade groups. Women ask their potential husbands to name them at their binding ceremony. This story illustrates both of those things.
The story is about two characters - 'Rows-in-loud-waters' and 'Hatchling'. They are on a battlefield against a tribe that broke apart from them long ago. Things get rough and a naming ceremony happens in the end. This takes place between the border of Saàkirlaasiik and Saàronit. It takes place in the second age after the Great Sundering.

Spoiler TL;DR

Summary: Rows-in-loud-waters is something of a squad leader to Hatchling. The two of them are in the alligator clan and are waiting for the 'Deceived' to come and fight them. When they finally do, the men fight with one of the Deceived for the majority of the story. This leads to some banter back and forth, but in the end, Hatchling dies. Hatchling tells Rows-in-loud-waters what he would have named his would-be wife if she had asked him to wed her. At the final end, Rows-in-loud-waters gives Hatchling a true proper name.

If You Read / Enjoy

Please drop me a comment. Just hearing that someone liked it would be awesome.

What's In A Name

“Stand firm! Men of Nafóótkirriinhaa”, Leans-on-the-spirit, chief of their clan spoke over all present before him. Riding by on a horse, he raised a spear and pranced the line of warriors. “It saddens me that we will shed the blood of our cousins! But they come to steal, pillage, and destroy. Show no mercy, brothers. For, I assure you, the Deceived will not return it.” His dark hair streamed in the air behind him as his steed carried him far down the line of men and out of earshot from him. Men cheered as he galloped by and smacked the flat of their weapons against their chests.
Hide banners whipped as the wind bid them to their will and the trees bent with each gust. Each banner displayed the spirit patron of the clan lined up to do battle. Some tribes gathered hides from the animals that embodied the attributes of their families' skills and nature. Behind him, alligator scales bent against the howling air. They dyed the animal biting its tail with an eye in the middle. A single line split the banner in the middle horizontally, and the eye peered out from the line. It represented the watchful eye of the clan, looking from the lands around Eversun. Sniffing, he smelt the hint of trees mingled mostly with warpaint against his flesh. A drum rang out behind him, then another sounded in the distance echoing it, and further out another did the same. This echoed on for a few more raps. His heart pounded in his chest, but he steeled his face.
The dark brown hair smacked the back of his tanned neck and his dark eyes scanned the woods before him. Across the grassland, they stood like a wall in the distance, dense and ominous. He had fashioned leather armor from the scaled hide of his swamp-dwelling, neighbor beast. He added stone studs to it in places that stuck out. On either side, men stood around him and he glanced out of the corner of his eyes. Younger men stationed themselves on either side of him entirely still and they both wore similar garb.
Each man painted their body with different symbols to display their strength, ferocity, or, in his case, battles fought. He used the black dye they made to draw scales against his skin where it remained exposed to the elements. Each drawn shape represented the number of times that he challenged a Deceived in combat and won. To his right, Paako Saàchalkoorrich Tínafsorlor, whom he lovingly calls Hatchling, dyed his face with ferocious teeth in the hope of scaring his enemies.
Hatchling's eyes widened as a horn sounded in the distance. Lootookcholatnapàrooti placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and smiled. Not showing his teeth, the sparkle in his eyes faded as quickly as it came. Recalling his first battle, the now chief, captained his line then. He hoped he could offer as much hope as the chief did then.
"Hatchling, I understand. This is your first bout with the Deceived. The tales we've weaved of them are terrifying and vicious. I must tell you, those tales are half true, but the half is still terrible" Lootookcholatnapàrooti's eyes trained on the forest head of them across the clearing. Any motion in the trees hid from his view and he sensed it lingered beyond the tree line, in the underbrush.
“Rows-in-loud-waters”, which Lootookcholatnapárooti meant, said Hatchling, “I don’t like the nickname. I am strong and proven in the tests.” Rows-in-loud-waters almost heard the pout on the young warrior's face. Smirking, he gave the young soldier a soft elbow to the ribs. “You’ve fought them enough times. How well do you know their tactics?”
Choosing to ignore the dislike of the nickname and how proven he may or may not be, Rows-in-loud-waters answered, "More than fought them. I engaged the enemy when the sundering happened, those years ago, when the clans had made it across Saàronit and into the valleys of the east. When Kolotatliíchiit revealed himself as the spirit of lies and trickery known to us as Naríhììnanathìnafòò”, chortled Rows-in-loud-waters. His mind rowed back to the day on the ship of his mind through the sea of memories. Every day, the river of life eroded them from his mind and they became less and less tangible.
The young man remained silent but peered from the corner of his sockets with intent. The horn blew again and the wind howled against the dusk sky. Rows-in-loud-waters guarded the lands of the tribe for several years, being an ‘eye in the swamp’. The Deceived envied Eversun and believed it promised to them instead of the men around him now. They fell, though, tainted themselves with the lies of the evil their false god fed them. The land of ever-sun had been promised for believers of the beat-giver, not the nest-stealer.
The horn sounded again, this time a bit closer. Rows-in-loud-waters tensed his hand around the shoulder of the young man again, in an attempt to reassure him. He worried the giant they built in tales to keep children near the settlements, backfired in moments like these. Fear, if unchecked by faith and courage created by faith, ravaged a man and tore through his resolve like the monsters created in stories of the age past and gone. “I have heard the Deceived are industrialized people with forges and explosives.”
"They hold fewer explosives and kilns as they once operated in the realms of Setting-Sun and the Teal Forests. We all practiced forging or so I’m told. The sundering was a quick bout of brother against brother and clan against clan. At the base of the white-ridged mountain, where the Nòònchààrrílììsììnat dwelt, we fought for what seemed like hours. We fought until our muscles ached, until our bones hurt, and until our lungs screamed for relief. In the end, Kolotatliíchiit fell and their usurper king called the retreat", he retold the story, holding on to the ax in his hand, keeping it at the ready in his off-hand. "The spirit of Naríhììnanathìnafòò spread over those who lost their way and inhabited all of them. It spread like sickness and as they fled, it fled with them." He shook his head and removed his hand from the young man's shoulder. "Half the priests left with them, and four of the seven first tribes dictated by Wááchlachtat, the great beat-giver."
Hatchling murmured a short prayer, both, Rows-in-loud-waters thought, in reverence for the name of their god but also the fear his heart currently harbored. "And they come now astride giant wolves, Rows-in-loud-waters and hunt in the dusk to find weaknesses in our resolve and steal into the land of promise. There they hope to kill our king, our clan chiefs, and place themselves at the seat of it all. How many times have they tried?" Fear waivered in the voice of the young man, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. They both did. The last they needed, Rows-in-loud-waters thought, wolf-mounted cavalry running them down while they stared into one another's eyes.
"Since the sundering", Rows-in-loud-waters asked and pondered in silence. The horns dinned again and got a bit closer. "In a host of the size the scouts report? Here I face them a second time, but they have always sent scouts almost yearly and they try skirmishes against us almost every five years. So in the twenty years since the sundering, there have been four skirmishes and two battles. Neither side seemed eager to meet the other in open war." To keep the young man from falling deeper into despair, Rows-in-loud-waters kept to himself the assumed reason. The potential allied dark powers of the Deceived deterred the king and the clan leaders from open war. They feared, maybe rightfully so, that the enemy sought other children of Naríhììnanathìnafòò like the Chììktonààn with their horrid owl-shaped faces and wrinkled talon-like hands.
Though none have seen a Chììknààn in a generation, tales of their malice lingered around the fires of public areas. Elders spun tales of heroes fighting the demi-god-like beings. Their eyes could see a spirit walker, and their strength could wrestle to the ground men twice their size. The claws, razor-sharp on each wrinkled and pimpled hand, extended its arm into the spirit world itself and could yank a spirit walker out from between the realms.
He ventured to guess the enemy refused open war with them because of the fear of the great beat-giver intervening against them, as he had done at the sundering. Spirits of the eagle, the buffalo, and the snake descended from the skies and took shape around them. The eagle came to the aid of the great teacher and fought with him against the enemy. The sight still filled Rows-in-loud-waters with awe and fear. These great spirits with such power existed in their realm - the Wààchlachtatpààtiit. Who knew what else existed beyond the reaches of the seas and northern mountains? The horn blew again, but this time it had not moved. He grabbed the other hatchet on his belt with his right hand.
"They're stalling", Hatchling breathed out, almost in a whisper as if he dared not alert the enemy to his position...
"They are and it is not like them to do so. But remember the spirit of our clan. We watch like the eye in our banner. We wait. We strike. Let the panther clan hunt through the woods and draw them out. We are to wait here." Rows-in-loud-waters convinced himself but pondered what the spirit-walkers of the panther clan waited for, or worse if the Chììktonààn horde lingered within the enemy host and snatched them from between the material and immaterial. "We wait." He echoed again and stood at the ready. The scales on his armor glinted in the setting sun to their left as it sank over the rolling hills at the place where the mountains met the lowlands and fled into the prairies.
A sea of pinks, reds, and oranges washed over the sky to the left of them as they faced north. The sun sat at the bottom of it all, at the horizon in the planes before the Saàronit. He failed to see it but, past the seas of grass - it sank. The sun sought its evening home beyond the lands of teal forests and red cliffs. In the land of gold and beautiful ridged coastlines. It almost yanked him away from the battle before him. It almost drew him away from the moment.
"So they're not as bad as you've told me my whole life?"
"They're bad, but they're human. They bleed and die like you do. The tales your elders have taught you as a child have not been altogether false or altogether true. They *do* practice human sacrifice of those they capture", Rows-in-loud-waters stated. He hid the fact they often sacrificed young children of their clans in the event they captured no one. "But they are not able to speak with wolves or command spiders. These are lies for story-telling effectiveness."
The young man grinned, "Ah then I will bring back my weight in scalps and wolf heads to the feasts of the return party." The young man raised his hatchet in response. "Each being an honor to my family and a possible trophy to convince Fóó Pafààlktiit Tínafsorlor to ask me to give her a name. Been courting her for two years now, and she still hasn't asked me. Perhaps this shows her my ability to provide and protect." Rows-in-loud-waters nodded. Sometimes spoils of war could convince a woman to request a naming. He wondered if women had it better in their tradition of naming. A woman received her name from her husband at the naming ceremony, but a man got his name from his peers. One bad name could stick forever.
His eyes scanned over to Chàànatatnafsorhapààt, named for hiding during a skirmish with the Deceived a handful of years ago. At least his name, he thought, sat in the middle of the road. Not too over the top to be too ridiculous but not to note some character flaw. Once given a name, your name stuck with you for the rest of your life. Shaking his head, he heard screams in the woods before them. "Get ready", he squatted in his ready position. Silence oozed over the field as the sun made a half-eye like of their banner against a pink sky.
"Fóó pafààlktiit tínafsorlor, I will bring you back spoils! I will show you I am a man to father your children", the young man mimicked the position Rows-in-loud-waters took. The two of them stood side by side. "Wááchlachtat, please be with us. Guide our strikes. Smite our foes", the young man glanced up at the sky. Rows-in-loud-waters followed his gaze with his own eyes and witnessed a single eagle flying overhead. “A good omen”, he noted. "He is with us", the young man shouted and pointed up to the sky. "He. Is. With. Us." The fervor spread through the line as men glanced up to spot the eagle before it disappeared.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Hatchling. Have faith, but the battle is not yet over. Wááchlachtat is not ours to master. We are his. His will is not ours. He will do as he wishes with this day." Then they came. Oversized wolves burst from the treeline and the men in the front of the formation readied their spears. "When the charge breaks, move with me. Understood, Hatchling", Rows-in-loud-waters asked. The young man nodded a response and the two of them faced their full attention to the front. Drums around them wailed with each passing moment and the panther clan did their duty - pinching the Deceived and drawing them out.
Rows-in-loud-waters smelled them before they got close enough to attack. They reeked of sulfur, oxidized iron, and sweat. Of all the deceits sown by the evil spirit, the greatest blazed fire and iron. Though he lived too few years to have experienced the splendors in the teal forests. The forest they laid bare, the mountains and valleys they flattened to build large metal works. All of this culminated in the great lie the beat-giver gave them conquest as a purpose. Their people knew the truth as inherited from the great beat-giver. Upon creation, he gifted man with more than a heartbeat, but also a goal, a purpose, and a stewardship over the world. The Deceived abandoned it and clad themselves in metal armor atop their steeds.
Charging furred beasts broke against the spears of the stag clan who had adorned their heads with antlers and little white speckled furs along their backs. Wolves howled and snapped their jaws at them as they died against the spears. The drool from their large agape mouths dripped onto the stag clansmen and drenched their armor. The area around Rows-in-loud-waters filled with the reek of wet dogs, which, smelled more pleasant than their riders.
One Deceived soldier, overlapping plated armor, hopped from his beast as it hit the spears, and landed behind the line, rolling as he did so. Tumbling to his feet, he drew two swords made of crude metal and eyed around the Rows-in-loud-waters and Hatchling. He licked his filed-down teeth and stepped forward to the two of them. The smell shifted back to the scent of sulfur and rust. Evil, its stench, hung to the Deceived.
Rows-in-loud-waters turned to face him and tugged Hatchling to do the same. The two of them flicked their hatchets in their hands and semi-circled the Deceived man This outsider appeared like they did: dark tanned skin, darker hair, dark eyes, and markings along his skin denote his tribe. This one hailed from the wolf tribe, which drew its heraldry from the initial Coyote tribe of Kolotatliíchiit. "Traitors", the wolf warrior shouted and raised his sword to charge forward. Rows-in-loud-waters noted the warrior before them bore the scarred claws of the man-butcher on his face. Three scarred lines trailed down his face and missed his eyes by a half-inch.
Other men broke through the formation of spearmen at the front of the line. One by one, more Deceived lingered into the lines of their tribe and the tempest of blades and shields whirled to life. Swords clanked against hatchets, spears against armor, and maces against faces. He heard the crunch of bone under the pressure of horse hooves. The air filled with the smell of metallic liquid, not like rust but a bit more like copper.
Hatchling and Rows-in-loud-waters moved in and, like the jaws of the mighty alligator spirit, pinched the Deceived warrior between themselves. Hatchling threw a slashing move with one of his hatchets, preparing a parry with the other arm. As he did so, Rows-in-loud-waters lunged forward and hacked hard downward to put a severe dent in the helmet of the enemy. The outsider struggled between them. He blocked one blow from Rows-in-loud-waters, then turned around to parry a blow from Hatchling. Sparks flew off the crude metal weapon as their chiseled stone axes hit it. The two of them stepped back from the Deceived outsider before he could counterattack.
Charging in again Hatchling dented his armor, leaving scuffs and scratches, while the enemy pushed Rows-in-loud-waters back away. "Traitors? You fight for the enemy, cousin!" Regardless of how far out the family they believed all clans related through the first men created by the beat-giver. "Turn your heart to Wááchlachtat and see! See the error of your ways and your kindred, they betrayed our ways and clung to Kolotatliíchiit even when revealed himself as the enemy!"
"Kolotatliíchiit was a hero, a paragon of our people! He hunted and slew the Chììktonààn. He mastered the realm given to us and showed us how to bend it to our will", with each phrase the enemy slammed his sword against Hatchling. Raising both his axes to catch the oncoming slash, Hatchling grunted as each hit staggered him backward.
"Perhaps it is not ours to shape?" Hatchling posed the question now and pride welled up in Rows-in-loud-waters’s heart. The young one came to grasp the purpose, the great mission for all of the men on Laaliíoota, one of them anyway. They lived in harmony with nature, not against it, not bending mountains to their will. To protect the young soldier, he jabbed forward with the ax in his main hand and moved back. It acted as a deterrent to pressing the young soldier further.
Around them, the din of battle drowned out the sounds of any other thoughts or fears. The Deceived soldier before them held their full attention. Another enemy sped toward them but caught a spear in the back of the neck. It pierced through him and pinned him to the ground. Gurgling nearby, he struggled and flailed his arms against the ground. A pool of crimson soaked the grass.
"Why", he pushed back Hatchling with his foot. "Would the beat-giver", he slashed and cut a gash in Rows-in-loud-water’s arm. "Give us", he kicked again trying to keep Hatchling back. "a realm to exist in. He wants us to conquer it."
Glancing at the blood running from his arm, Rows-in-loud-waters shook his head. "Then you are lost, cousin. The beat-giver never commanded us to conquer anything. He asked us to live in love with one another, to defend the wilds and beauty he created, and to worship him." Rows-in-loud-waters spun his hatchets around his hands and stepped back. Love of nature, love of others, and love of Wááchlachtat existed as the key commands of their god. The spirits echoed this in their defined sub-goals for each clan.
"Cousin", Rows-in-loud-waters said, "I will ask you once more to lay down your arms and come to try and reform... And we will see to it you are integrated with your people. That you see the truth and the life." In all ways, if possible, he felt required to extend out to the lost and try and pull them back to the way. His eyes met the Deceived man’s eyes and they shared a moment. Contemplation washed over the features of the enemy for but a moment as he narrowed his eyes to Rows-in-loud-waters.
"Never. Your way is a lie. Designed to deceive us." He kicked Hatchling back away again when the gap between them closed, then turned and charged. Rows-in-loud-waters and the enemy met at full force. The two of them traded blows. A slash on the cheek of the Deceived, bleed and he could see the ivory teeth within his joules. He hissed with pain and stepped back again. Droplets of blood oozed from the wound of the enemy’s mouth and down his chin. He reached up and wiped the blood away and licked into the wound with his tongue.
Hatchling charged at him from behind and jumped up into the air to attempt to plunge his axes upon the Deceived's shoulders with two raking blows. Rows-in-loud-waters rose his axes to try and deter the young warrior from his actions against the Deceived. With sudden premonition and supernatural celerity, the Deceived turned around and jammed his sword upwards in a single motion. Hatchling stopped in his tracks, his body caved save for the spasms. The pain must have racked him as he shuddered when the enemy pulled the blade out and fell to the ground.
"No!" Rows-in-loud-waters shouted and charged, but even as he charged forward Hatchling continued to fight. Standing from his prone position, he struck the Deceived in the back of the leg with his hatchet and it bit into him. Crimson liquid sprayed out onto the ground, but he pressed against his abdomen with his left arm. Slashing with the other arm in rapid succession. They wasted too much time, thought Rows-in-loud-waters and he needed to press the combat now. The enemy must fall before Hatchling expired.
Rows-in-loud-waters smacked him with the flat side of his weapon so he turned back around. The blood of his fellow clan mate dripped from the crude metallic blade. The air smelled of rusted metal. Fuming inside, Rows-in-loud-waters swung his weapon again and cleaved through the enemy's collarbone. The Deceived’s neck slacked and the weapon fell to his side. Ringing against his armored thigh, the sword clacked there, tapping as the enemy struggled to hold on.
Heaving for breath, Hatchling continued slashing with his axes and making deep cuts against the enemy until he stopped moving. Blood, a mixture of his own and the Deceived’s covered his face and shoulders. His body rested over the Deceived’s body and he lay there motionless. The battle swirled around them, cousin against cousin. Night fell around them and the three sister moons lit the darkness. The pale, vulnerable light glinted off crude metal and seeped into obsidian weapons.
Rows-in-loud-waters dropped to his knees beside the two bodies as Hatchling gasped for breath. The battle waged on, but numbers weighed on their side. The Deceived brought a thousand men to this battle, where they fielded three times. His ally wrapped both arms around his stomach to try and slow the bleeding.
"Rows-in-loud-waters, tell Fóó Pafààlktiit Tínafsorlor I wish I could have made it back to her. This", he lifted the scalped hair of the enemy soldier on the ground beside him, "is for her." He placed the skin and braided hair into Rows-in-loud-waters’s hand. "Tell her", he coughed, "I would have named her... The most poetic names." The scalp’s blood leaked from the cracks in his hands and down his wrist.
Wrapping his fingers around the other man's hand, Rows-in-loud-waters nodded his head. "What would have named her, Hatchling?" He squeezed as the young man faded a bit more, though he looked far older now than he had ever looked at him before. The mission at the moment remained to keep the young man from dying in fear and panic. Blood gushed from the open wound under his rib cage.
"I would have named her for the way the crickets sing in the summer as the sun sets under the moss-draped trees - Saàriifòònaforchiínaforchiit. I could have named her for the light reflected in her eyes as the fire burns under a full moon and frogs croak out beats for our souls to dance to. I would have named her", he gurgled blood between the words, "queen of my heart - Kiwáátattalkti. Most importantly, Rows-in-loud-waters, I would have named her my wife..."
"I know, friend. I know. I will tell her", blood leaked from the scalp in his hand and down his wrists as he pulled Hatchling's head into his lap. "Rest now, friend." Rows-in-loud-waters leaned in close to his friend and embraced him. He wrapped his arms around the wound with him and tried to provide him warmth as all the blood left his body. The savage blade of the enemy, ripped as it came out. Shuddering, Hatchling closed his eyes, knowing the end came soon.
"Tell her", he whispered again.
"I will", Rows-in-loud-waters responded.
The battle wrestled to an end with the final Deceived being chased away from the battle lines and into the woods where the Panther clan decided to let them go further by themselves. Rows-in-loud-waters watched from his place on the ground and hand on the side of Hatchling's cheek. A set of footsteps jingled through the battlefield behind him, but he kept his face downcast. A clattering of bones against quartz rung with each step. Blotting out the light from the moon, a shadow towered over him.
"Rows-in-loud-waters, losing a soldier in your line is unforgettable and crushing of the spirit, but he is not gone forever. You will see him again when we return to the beat-giver and live with him in the land of peace. Do distress yourself." The chief of the alligator clan knelt and placed a hand on Rows-in-loud-waters’s shoulder. He remained silent for some time, and Rows-in-loud-waters continued to look at the young man who served beside him.
"He fought valiantly, but even in the halls of the beat-giver he will be unnamed."
"Because he has not earned a name? Do you believe he has not earned a name, Rows-in-loud-waters? I hardly think that is fair." The chief shook his head and clicked his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly. Rows-in-loud-waters placed both hands of his friend on his chest and then placed his arms at his sides to shake out the anxiety and pent-up energy there.
"But, Leans-on-the-spirit, no one named him in life. He would not know it when we meet him in the halls of the beat-givers home. How would he answer". At this question, the chief sat and nestled into the ground near Rows-in-loud-waters. Squeezing his shoulder with his hand, and looked into the warrior's eyes.
Removing his hand from the shoulder of Rows-in-loud-waters he lifted the hand of Hatchling to his lap and took in a deep breath. "Do you imagine the names we give one another are for them to know who they are? Do you think our understanding of self is so small we have to have our brothers explain our behavior to ourselves?"
"So the names we give one another are for those around us."
"They're not for the beat-giver to know us", the chief chortled in response. "He already knows who we are before any name is given." The chief looked into Rows-in-loud-waters’s eyes and Rows-in-loud-waters sensed a tenderness and joy in the life of the man which grew in him like a ripened fruit. Here, the fruit offered out to him in guidance and words. “He knew us before the foundation of Laaliíoota and before the breath of the first man”
“Then I have a name for him.”
The chief motioned his hand. “Go on, Rows-in-loud-waters. He fought his trial against the Decieved. He may not have survived, but as far as I am concerned. He passed the test.”
Rows-in-loud-waters pondered for a moment and then closed the eyes of Hatchling on his lap. The wreckage of the battle around them reeked of shit and blood. "Goodbye, Nilchiiltatnawànàt." He inhaled and let out a long sigh. It ripped through him. He sobbed and tears dropped. "Goodbye..." The name echoed in his mind, and the meaning of the syllables slammed together. *Goodbye*, he thought, *Goodbye Died-in-honors-of-all.*
The chief bent over him, wrapping his arms around him and holding his shoulders. "We will see him again. I promise." Standing, he turned his back to Rows-in-loud-waters and looked over the battlefield. "Many of the men who died here will be seen again. Some will be seen in the final moments of the Last End. When we line up before the beat-giver he unfurls the hide of our hearts and examines the colors we dyed there. Should he find there are more colors of lust, hatred, envy, or pride than of love for one another and Him... We will have to answer for that."
Rows-in-loud-waters rose behind him and looked over the battlefield, he knew even the Deceived, flawed, and wrong, stood before the judgment of the beat-giver, regardless of their beliefs. Mangled men lay with broken arms and legs twisted in unnatural directions. The great wolves splayed out with matted fur and broken jaws. He scanned the carnage and another tear came along the curve of his cheek. "Will they attack again?" The sound of men directing clean-up echoed throughout the mass grave before him.
"The enemy will continue to push, ever-escalating the power at his disposal until he is finally defeated in the final moment of the Last End." The chief of the alligator clan offered his words and it warmed Rows-in-loud-waters' heart.
"I don't understand why we must wait for the living spirit of the forest to take on human flesh to defeat Naríhììnanathìnafòò'', a hint of anger rose in Rows-in-loud-waters’s voice as he placed his hatchets back against the belt that held his pants in place. "Why can we not hunt the enemy." He kicked the head of one of the enemy soldiers near him, forgetting his place and not respecting the dead that now belonged to the spirits.
"Even if you hunted every vessel of evil. Even if you slaughtered all the clans of Chììktonààn. You would remain with yourself and the evil in your blood and heart." The chief’s mouth twitched a bit, as he knelt and placed the enemy’s head back where it lay before the kick.
Rows-in-loud-waters took a step back, staggered by the thought he harbored some part of Naríhììnanathìnafòò in himself. "What do you mean? I have never accepted the tenets of evil. I do not forsake my vow to stewardship. I do not forsake my family. I do not forsake my god." He listed out the beliefs every man of the tribe agreed in their ideology. But the chief shook his head in response.
"You are thinking too largely, my friend." The chief pointed softly to the muscles over the heart of Rows-in-loud-waters and pointed out to the battlefield for them both to see. "It is not these large acts, though terrible, that will weigh our hearts with the ink of debt. It is the small ones. Like putting your wants above your wife's needs. Or talking back to your parents. The taint of Naríhììnanathìnafòò is in all of us from the earliest days of his coming to us. Big and small all these evils stain our hearts the same. The smaller ones are easier to commit."
"I... I don't know what to say", Rows-in-loud-waters stammered and stared down at his own feet.
The chief shrugged his shoulders. "Seldom does anyone. It is hard to imagine the taint or the extent of contamination that exists in the world. What we can do is attempt to bring our cousins back into the fold, so to speak, and lead them to a life of stewardship over the realm Wááchlachtat has given to us." The chief’s eyes closed and he mumbled under his breath. Turning again, he left the battlefield and the warrior behind him.
The banners flapped against the wind as they packed up. Men from each clan gathered the dead they had and placed them either over the backs of horses or over their shoulders. The three sisters, moons each larger than the last, trailed across the sky in various phases. Rows-in-loud-waters chose to carry Nilchiiltatnawànàat instead of casting him to the side on the back of a horse. The man's limp arm fell down Rows-in-loud-waters’s back and blood dripped. It trickled the sections of bare skin on Rows-in-loud-waters’s back.
They marched on into the night, headed back south toward their families in Eversun and the drums played a slow, solemn tone with each step they made through the woods. His eyes scanned from person to person. All their eyes cast down to the ground as if looking to make sure they would not trip and fall, but he knew they felt the pain of losing a young one or an unnamed one, or even a brother or a friend.
As they marched, the air started to smell more like home and less like sulfur and metal. The hint of pines, the stench of swamplands, and the sound of water lapping against the sides of shallow ponds in the soft wind. An inhale drug air into his lungs and past his nose where he sniffed the familiar smell of rotted leaves. As they left, he heard a voice from his left. When he turned to face and looked at the voice, no one stood in the darkness of the trees. A voice in his ear, or his heart, told him all calmed for now.

There was a small patch of trees located some distance from the village the Egyptians had recently consolidated, and within those trees was a small house.
The house was roughly the size of a typical Egyptian house. There were two small windows in its walls which were designed to allow the maximum amount of light and wind into the house, due to the lack of glass in the area.
Its walls were made of sun-dried bricks laid on top of each other, and was covered in ivy vines.
The light that filtered through the arching canopy above them warmed the surrounding air causing the house to have an elegant feel to it.
Someone had parked a wagon in front of the house. The bed was buckling under the weight of a small mountain of crates, sacks, and books tied together with twine.
After looking at the amount of luggage on the wagon and the donkey grazing beside the road, one might ask if this was too much for one poor beast to draw.
In front of this heap stood an obviously troubled person, clutching a bundle of books.
She was a girl with silver hair, and looked to be around 14 or 15 years of age. She was wearing a Hadgar.
«Master, we can’t keep piling things onto the wagon. »
No matter what they did, they simply could not cram anything else onto the wagon. The girl calmly related this fact to the person inside the house.
«Tamimt! Can’t you think of something? »
A black-bearded old man poked his head out from a nearby window, with a “I can’t take this” expression on his wrinkled face.
«It would make more sense to leave the herbs behind. »
The girl called Tamimt removed the sacks full of herbs from the wagon one after the other. She placed the book bundle she was holding into the space that was freed up.
The black-haired old man sagged his shoulders.
« Didn’t think that the Zuhadnians would had struck this fast…»
The news of the Sheepmen attack had spread like wildfire.
Normally, they would have dropped everything and fled, but since they had warning in advance, there was still some time to pack. As a result, the village was filled with activity as everyone made their preparations to escape.
The old man grumbled and carried the sacks which Tamimt had taken off the wagon back into the small house. There was a secret door under the bed where he planned to hiding them .
In the meantime, Tamimt guided the donkey over and hitched it to the wagon.
« Master, you’d best mount up quickly. »
« Ah? What are you saying? I’m not interested in mounting a little girl like you. »
«...»
Tamimt glared at the old man with the coldest look she could muster. Then she proceeded to solidify the air into a lump and launched it at him. The solidified air was still only about as hard as a rubber ball, but it still hurt when it hit someone.
« Hey! Stop it! Magic is not a toy! Magic is not to be used for personal gain or enjoyment… Hey! »
« Although there’s still some time, we can’t play around like this. Let’s move out soon. »
« I got it, I got it, no need to rush… you really can’t take a joke, can you? »”
The old man gripped his staff in one hand and settled into the seat next to Lelei. Lelei, on the other hand, glared at the old man and spoke.
« Jokes are meant for entertainment between friends, parents, lovers and other closely related people. However, once they start taking on a sexual nature, one must start taking the other party into consideration as well. For instance, it would be completely unacceptable to start making lewd jokes around a teenage girl. This might well irreparably damage the relationship with them. I believe this should be common knowledge for mature individuals, no? »
The old man sighed deeply as his disciple lectured him.
« Huu… I’m so tired. I wish I didn’t have to get old. »
« Objectively speaking, that is incorrect. I feel that you are as hardy as a cockroach. »
« Now that’s what I call rude. Is that how a disciple should be speaking? »
« This is how I was raised from childhood, and I was raised by you. »
After her unreserved words, Tamimt lightly struck the donkey with her riding crop.
The donkey obediently tried to move forward, but it could not, because the wagon’s bed was overloaded.
« ...Like I said, we’re carrying too much. »
« That was expected. Also, you were the one who said we could keep piling things on, Master. »
Tamimt quietly jumped off the wagon.
She felt that it would be better to keep walking than sit still on an immobilized vehicle.
« Oi, oi! Tamimt, you need to be more patient! If you’re like that, nobody will want to marry you, and that would be a shame! »
As the old man said that, he took up the goad and struck the donkey. The donkey tried its best, but as expected, the wagon refused to budge.
Tamimt noticed that one of the wheels was embedded into the ground, about a third of the way in. If it was stuck like that, it was only natural that the wagon could not move.
« Master, I think you need to get off the wagon. »
« Don’t, don’t worry. After all, don’t we have this? »
The old man raised his staff, and Lelei sighed. Mimicking the tone of her master, she replied: « Magic is not a toy. Magic is not to be used for personal gain or enjoyment…»
Sweat poured like a waterfall from the old man’s forehead, and he rushed to answer her.
« We are magicians, we do not walk like the rest of Humanity. »
However, he could not defy Tamimt’s glare, which was utterly devoid of warmth or compassion.
The old man’s mouth opened up as if he were going “ah~”, and he began chanting the words he had not spoken for a long time.
«...»
His solemnity as an educator clashed with the other feelings in his heart. It would seem the old man’s next move would take some time. After a while, he looked at Lelei with an uncomfortable expression on his face.
« I… I’m sorry. »
« That’s fine. After all, I know that’s how you are. »
Tamimt was a child who did not sugarcoat her words.
After using magic to lighten the weight of the luggage, the donkey could easily pull the wagon and its mountain of cargo. And so, Tamimt and her Master sat on the wagon and left the home they had occupied for many years.
As they drove the wagon to the centre of the village, Lelei noticed many families with wagons full of things, much like herself and her Master. It wasn’t just wagons they used, but haywains and plow harnesses, and some people had even loaded up their horses with saddlebags.
Tamimt looked closely at the other villagers, as if she were studying them.
Her Master spoke.
«You’re an intelligent child. Everyone else must look foolish to your eyes. »
« It’s only natural that Humans would flee with everything they could carry once they heard of the Zuhadnians approach. »
«You said it was natural for Humans… does that mean they’re foolish, then? »
«...»
Lelei could not deny her Master’s words.
If they really valued their own lives, they would immediately drop everything and run as far as they could. Stopping to take on and secure luggage would only waste time that could be spent on fleeing, and the luggage itself would slow them down. It would be too late to abandon it when the Zuhadnians came.
To begin with, why did humans even struggle so hard to survive? Death was inevitable — it would happen sooner or later. What was the point in slightly prolonging one’s life?
Tamimt logically dissected the topic as she considered it, and the old man was agonizing over how to speak with her.
When they reached the centre of the village, they noticed something worrying.
A column of men was marching towards the village.
Countless archers and axemen marched in single file, and in the middle of where they were marching were several chariots.
After an initial moment of panic, Tamimt seemed to recognize them.
Tales came from neighbouring villages of a group of warriors that called themselves “Egyptians”. Under the pretext of defending any Azmabers villages they found, they had peacefully integrated them into their slowly growing empire.
From these villages came news of prosperity and, most importantly, peace.
Perhaps this village did not have to evacuate at all…
One of the Egyptians, what seemed to be a general, walked towards the villagers. « People of Siddique village! We are the Egyptians, servants of Pharaoh Thutmoses. We come here to bring peace and prosperity to your people. The only payment we seek is your loyalty. »
One man, very likely the village elder, came forth. « We have heard of your people. The neighbouring villages speak well of you. »
« This is good to hear. It would be a shame to be compared to the dogs of the Sultanate…» the man replied.
« …Then we will gladly pledge our loyalty to the Pharaoh. We thank you for protecting us, Egyptians. » the elder replied.
« A wise choice. » the man replied, before turning to a group of unarmed Egyptians. « Workers! We need to create a defensive position for when the Sultanate forces will come! We also need to expand the farming land of these people! We cannot fight without full bellies! »
« At once, my lord! » another man, very likely in charge of the workers, replied, as he ordered the workers to plan the construction of a wall around the village.
As that went on, a small group of five armed men arrived, the leader walking towards the man.
« General. We’ve spotted a group of Sheepmen not far from the village. It is only a small raiding party, around 30 of them. I do believe it would be wise to strike them now, with the element of surprise, before they could call the help of their companions. » the man explained.
« That would be wise. You’ll lead an ambush against the sheepmen with the cover of darkness. Bring as many men as you need. I’ll stay here with the majority of the army in case the dogs of the Sultanate attempt an attack on the village. » the general replied.
« Yes, my lord. » the man replied.
As the man went to prepare his expedition, the general smirked. « Very well, Sultanate. Tonight, we shall see your mettle...»
Xxxxxxx
Siddique village was just one of the countless of villages that the Egyptians had integrated in their new land.
Every time, they arrived, promised protection in exchange of loyalty, and they would not only keep to their words, but they would also improve the livelihood of the people there.
Thanks to their farming technique, they managed to expand the farmlands of the villages. Thanks to the walls they built, the villages were now safer from not only the Sheepmen and the Sultanate, but also from bandits and wild animals.
That being said, despite the Egyptian rapid expansion, they so far only had to deal with the latter two.
No attack from either the Sheepmen nor the Sultanate had been noted, with the few exception being villages that had not been found by the Egyptians.
Not to far from Siddique, there was one such village.
An intelligent hunter would consider that killing all the prey would leave none for the future. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it would seem that neither the Sultanate nor the Sheepmen were that smart.
For instance, there was a family who fled said village as they received news that the Sheepmen had been spotted in the vicinity.
The father drove his wagon with his plowhorse, and on that wagon were all the family’s possessions, his 32 year-old wife and his 15 year-old daughter.
The villagers all fled as if they were grazing animals. However, unlike wild herbivores such as buffalos or zebras, this family did not move in a group. There was no time for that, not when the Sheepmen could attack at any moment.
So they ignored their villagers’ cries for them to stop, and left the village on their own.
On their second night, they ran into a Sheepmen raiding party.
The man desperately spurred his horse, but there was no way for the overburdened wagon and horse to move quickly. With no way to resist, the family was captured by the mounted Sheepmen.
The man was slain instantly, and his wife and daughter were taken away.
In the darkness, the Sheepmen gathered around the campfire in their camp and gleefully rummaged through their share of the spoils.
Their prey had not just been carrying coins and currency, but provisions as well. They filled their bellies with the food they had captured. However, they were wise enough to leave one quarter of the provisions they had captured, as well as the two women. This was the so called “Sultanate’s quarter”, a portion of the loot that was to be handed to the Sultanate after every single raid.
« Boss! Coda Village is about to make a move! »
Ever since the first Sheepman raid, scores of villagers had fled. Laden down with luggage, they could not move fast, nor could they fight back. Why not attack them? There was no reason not to do so. They would slaughter and pillage them.
After hearing his minion speak, the boss laughed in satisfaction. It was a good idea, so they should go ahead and do it. But as he thought about it...
« We don’t have enough people. »
It would be asking too much of his band of twenty-odd men to take on an entire village at once.
« We’ll just have to just ask for support from another group of raiders.»
With enough people, they could successfully attack entire villages, and even towns. If he played his cards right, he could gain considerable favours with the Sultanate.
This nameless bandit chief’s final moments were spent imagining a time when he would be happiest. Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?
Either way, his head was struck by a loose arrow, and the chief slumped down on the ground lifeless.
Before the Sheepmen realized what was going on, several others were struck by arrows.
« Ambush! » one of the Sheepmen yelled out, before their lines were shattered by the charge of several chariots.
As the Sheepmen tried to recover from the attack, their ambushers charged in with their axemen.
It was the Egyptian army, who had waited until the coming of darkness for the full element of surprise.
With both superior numbers on their side and the element of surprise, the Sheepmen stood little chance, and started to flee.
The Egyptians went after them, like a pack of wolves hunting down its prey.
The axes sliced through the heads of the Sheepmen, and the surrounding area was littered with corpses.
« Kill them all! Have no mercy! » the leader of the Egyptian army commanded, as he went after the Sheepmen.
Xxxxxxx
Of the 30 Sheepmen warband, only two had managed to survive the Egyptian ambush.
But to say that they were safe would be a lie.
There were no paths in the wilderness at night. The countryside was littered with rock formations, thorny thickets and trees. They stumbled occasionally, their bodies covered in sand and sweat, and their clothes were torn.
Suddenly, however, one of the Sheepmen grabbed by the maws of a beast, with the head of a hawk and the body of a lion.
The last surviving Sheepman blood froze at the sight of the predator.
This was a Hieracosphinx, the apex predator of these lands.
Thinking nothing but his self preservation, the Sheepman abandoned his companion, as he fled further down into the countryside.
His escape did not last long, however, as a loose arrow struck him in the leg, the Sheepman yelling out in pain as he collapsed on the ground.
Then, there was the sound of footsteps.
Upon hearing them, he desperately looked up. The leader of the Egyptian warband towered over him, backlit by the silver disc of the moon. He clearly was the man who had struck him, and was intent on finishing the job.
« P-please! Spare me! I-I’ll give you anything! » the Sheepman pleaded.
« Sparing a murderer? Surely, you jest. » the Egyptian snarled.
« Aiiieeee! I, I, I’ve never killed anyone! »
As the Sheepman said that, the Egyptian raised an eyebrow. « Did you now? »
« It’s true! This was the first raid I did since I joined! »
As the Sheepman said that, the Egyptian laughed. « If what you say is true, then it would be in poor tastes to kill one that has no blood in his hand! You bring a good point, my friend. »
And with that, the Egyptian begun to walk away.
But before the Sheepman could let out a sight of relief, he felt a presence behind him.
Emerging from behind a bush, was a large Hieracosphinx, and he was clearly hungry.
« And so, I shall leave the beast the duty to judge you before the afterlife. » the Egyptian taunted the downed Sheepman, as he went to join the rest of the warband.
Before the Sheepman could beg to be saved, the carnivore pounced, and sunk its claws and razor sharp beak on his flesh.
As he wrestled against the powerful carnivore, the Sheepman cursed himself for his cowardice, something that stopped the Egyptian from granting him a painless death.
For Hieracosphinx do not wait for their prey to die to begun their feast.
It will take many hours before he will be granted the sweet release of death.
Xxxxxxx
I hope you guys like this new update! Be sure to like(if you like it), comment(please comment so I can learn what your opinion is) and.....follow I guess.

I know, I know, it was a shoot. Everyone says so. Everyone involved says so. It was documented in a film, and people have addressed it in books, and the Montreal Screwjob was a shoot, was real, and anyone who says different is an idiot conspiracy theorist.
Well! I am an idiot, and I am a (sometimes) conspiracy theorist, but it doesn't change the fact that the Montreal Screwjob was -- and remains -- a work. Or maybe I'm wrong, of course, but here's my (way, way too-long) case:
Context is King
There is no smoking gun to prove either "shoot" or "work." All evidence for either position is circumstantial. But it's important to remember context. This is professional wrestling we're talking about, an offshoot of shady carnivals and backroom dealings. Their business is working the marks (that's us). Fooling us. Whenever something appears to happen within the context of professional wrestling, it's not wrong to wonder whether there is some degree of deception involved. Or, to keep this as simple as possible, where wrestling is concerned, assume first that what you're seeing is a work, and proceed from there.
In 2024, kayfabe is long dead and buried, but back in the long-ago of 1997, things were not nearly so cut-and-dried. Vince McMahon's WWE (then WWF) had been playing with kayfabe for a while. He'd previously admitted to the worked nature of wrestling for regulatory purposes, but certain principles of kayfabe were still strictly adhered to. Consider, for instance, the infamous MSG "Curtain Call," which had only taken place a year and a half prior. Secrecy was still important to McMahon and (especially) old-school wrestlers.
Still, even in '97, it was an era that flirted with violations of kayfabe and peeks behind the curtain. Particularly popular at the time was the "worked shoot," which blended elements of supposed real life with fictional elements, pretending that something was "really happening" beyond the normal confines of kayfabe, to once again work the marks. One famous episode of a worked shoot was when Brian Pillman conspired with WCW honcho Eric Bischoff to break character on camera, apparently jump promotions, and fool everyone. Of note, so deep was the deception that Bischoff and Pillman were also working other wrestlers, to bolster Pillman's "loose cannon" gimmick and protect it from the dirt sheets.
Pillman was also working Bischoff, but that's besides the point. The point that I'm making is that, not only were "worked shoots" a popular trope in wrestling at the time, but there was also precedence for a boss and wrestler to create a worked shoot designed to fool the other wrestlers, too. To fool everyone. And Pillman wound up working in WWE right alongside his close friend Bret Hart in the months leading up to Montreal. Circumstantial as anything, I know, but keep it in mind.
Cui Bono
It's a famous approach to take when trying figure out a complex situation, crime or conspiracy, to ask: "who benefits" -- cui bono? The Montreal Screwjob is remembered mostly as an awful affront to Bret Hart from Vince McMahon, a personal and professional betrayal, as dramatic as anything WWE's ever produced, only real.
One might imagine that Bret must have suffered greatly from this, then. That he must have been hurt in some capacity, financially or otherwise, or had his name dragged through the mud. But interestingly, Bret Hart came out of the affair hotter than ever. He was jumping ship to WCW, after all, and the riches of Ted Turner's checkbook. But Montreal gave him something else on top of all that: it made him a white hot commodity as a supremely over babyface.
The fact that WCW quickly dropped the ball with the Hitman (as they did so routinely) shouldn't take anything away from the recognition that the Montreal Screwjob was, in terms of career, the best possible thing that could have happened to Bret Hart. Better than beating Michaels at SummerSlam, better than losing to him, better than surrendering the title on RAW or losing to Steve Austin. No other scenario proposed or devised could have served him and his character better than having been publicly betrayed by Vince McMahon on his way out of the company.
Then there's McMahon, who parlayed the Screwjob into an on-camera heel turn that led directly into WWE's greatest-ever feud and hottest business period. To be clear, as good as it was for Hart, the Screwjob was just as good for McMahon's business and career, if not even better. It made the man a super and super-over heel, overnight.
Only... that's not quite right. That's how it's popularly remembered... that McMahon was a milquetoast face commentator, not even recognized as owner of the Federation, until the Screwjob, when he lucked into a heel persona, and then ran with it. But the truth is that McMahon had been turning heel very slowly over the past year. He and Bret Hart had already been quasi-feuding, on camera. And Bret accused Vince McMahon of "screwing him" well before Montreal, as a part of Monday Night RAW storylines (yes, using that actual language). McMahon was outed in the process, on camera, as being the WWE owner. And the "authority" of Sgt. Slaughter, Briscoe, Patterson and others was already emerging as a storyline faction against (especially) the rebellious (and soon to be face-of-the-business) Steve Austin.
Indeed, Austin delivered his first stunner to McMahon on Sept. 22, 1997... less than two months before Montreal. To be very clear: McMahon didn't "suddenly turn heel" with the Screwjob. That's what solidified him as a heel, and got him over massively, but he was already heading in that direction, clearly and purposefully, to feud with Austin and others. (In fact, some will know that McMahon had practiced being a heel years before in Memphis; this idea had been percolating for a while). Whatever else was true about it, the Screwjob fit perfectly into ongoing storylines and characters, including both McMahon and Hart.
Regardless, the Montreal Screwjob benefitted both Hart and McMahon, turning Hart into a massive face and McMahon into a massive heel at the exact same time (mirroring the classic Austin/Hart double turn at WrestleMania). It also benefitted Shawn Michaels and his burgeoning DX faction, and it gave the perfect narrative frame and climax to the documentarians otherwise inexplicably following Bret Hart around for a year. For an event that's remembered as something horrible and shameful, it's amazing how virtually everyone associated with it came out the better for it.
Psychology
But was that the idea? Taken at face value, what was the idea of the Screwjob to begin with? What did Vince McMahon hope to get out of this? We're told that McMahon didn't want Bret Hart to bring the WWE title to WCW as Madusa had done before, but does that make a lick of sense to anyone? Do y'all know Bret Hart? His sense of honor and the seriousness with which he carries himself? McMahon knew Hart, as well as and maybe better than anyone outside of his immediate family. So does it really make sense that McMahon, who had a reputation of doing business on a handshake (until WWE went public), would have been afraid of Bret Hart lying and backstabbing him and taking the title with him to WCW? Even if we say, well maybe McMahon was paranoid, remembering what had happened with Nash and Hall, or whatever, he could easily have snatched the physical belt while Michaels and Hart were busy in the ring, regardless of the planned outcome of the match. Michaels didn't have to "win" squat. There was zero reason to actually fear Hart's taking the belt to Monday Nitro, and even less reason for a "screwjob" finish.
And then, of course, Bret had supposedly offered to drop the title at other times or circumstances, or to "anyone other than Michaels." So if McMahon had really feared Bret's taking the belt with him, so much that he was desperate for a way out, he could have agreed to any of those offered conditions. But maybe McMahon wanted to protect his WWE title and its lineage? Was that why it was important for Bret to lose on PPV to Michaels in Canada -- to show Michaels as a strong champion, going over Hart in his own backyard? But of course, no one ever believed that Michaels had "beaten" Hart in any respect; the fact of the Screwjob was known immediately, reported immediately (even addressed obliquely by Jim Ross on commentary literal seconds after the bell rang), and then highlighted on WWE programming. Nothing about this was ever going to remain a secret or kayfabe in the slightest (and of course, there was that documentary crew on hand...). Surely the notoriously private McMahon understood that this would shine a light on him and his business dealings like never before. So did he just blunder into these revelations? Or was it what he wanted?
Then consider Bret Hart's perspective. This was a guy as "old-school" as old-school gets, raised in a family of wrestlers, by a wrestling promoter, and reared in "the dungeon." Is it credible at all that Bret Hart refuses to lose on his way out of a territory, that he wanted to simply "surrender" the belt in the ring on an episode of RAW and transfer zero heat, disrespecting all of the people he'd beaten along the way? Remember: the official narrative is that Hart was being torn apart by his sense of personal loyalty to McMahon, versus the attractive financial offer from WCW... but he's going to refuse McMahon the very match and outcome that he wants, and refuse to put the belt around the waist of the guy McMahon wants as champion? (If it were Hogan, Austin, or maybe even Michaels himself, making such a demand, I could believe it -- but Bret Hart of all people? Please.)
Then, only a few years after, Bret Hart makes amends with McMahon and Michaels and does business with them again. Our Bret Hart? The man who still hasn't forgiven Goldberg for a sloppy kick, decades after the fact? He forgives this supposedly massive betrayal and even comes out of retirement to work in a WWE ring again, and license his name and character to them, join their Hall of Fame, etc.?
None of the motivations ascribed to McMahon and Hart fit what we otherwise know about their characters. Instead, I believe that Vince McMahon and Bret Hart designed a worked shoot between themselves, as was fashionable at the time (perhaps inspired by Brian Pillman), and fooled probably everyone around them. Perhaps the greatest worked shoot of all time. Did they ever plan on revealing the truth? I don't know. Perhaps, or even probably. But I think that Owen Hart's tragic death soon afterwards made the revelation of such a thing to be practically impossible, maybe forever.
tl;dr
This was a whole lot to say that: wrestling is a work. Wrestlers involved have said, "but this was a shoot, believe us," and folks have obligingly believed them. But they're wrestlers, con men, carnies. They would say that.

Wing and a Prayer part 1
Atodine Space Academy, West Wing
Zrieri made her way down the academy hallway. The feathers around her neck were ruffled with annoyance. It was bad enough for a student to show up late for class, but for a professor it was even worse. Still, it was unavoidable given the situation. Zrieri paused to smooth down her feathers before entering the classroom. The chattering between the students quickly fell off as she walked into the room. Zrieri walked with purpose to the podium in front of the class.
“My apologies for my tardiness.” Zrieri said after switching the large display behind her from idle to the presentation file she had prepared. “Let us begin with today’s lesson.”
The Rachanit, an advanced spacefaring species, marked the first contact between the Atodine people and an alien civilization. These insectoid beings, despite their initially unsettling appearance, exuded an apparent friendliness that led to a request for trade and the establishment of an embassy on Atodine Prime. Though the leaders initially hesitated, they eventually consented, allowing the Rachanits to settle into an embassy with minimal disruption. However, as time progressed, a chilling realization began to seep through the cracks of diplomatic pretense.
People began mysteriously disappearing in the vicinity of the Rachanit embassy, prompting suspicions of foul play. These suspicions were confirmed when a civilian inadvertently stumbled upon undeniable evidence of the Rachanits' true nature as a carnivorous species. It became abundantly clear that the embassy had served as a sinister testing ground for assessing their efficacy at hunting and consuming Atodine flesh.
Shortly after this alarming discovery, the Rachanits discarded any lingering pretense and declared a full-blown war against us. In the face of this unforeseen aggression, the Atodine were thrust into a protracted and grueling defensive battle. However, throughout the course of this conflict, a glimmer of hope emerged.
The Atodine, tenacious and resourceful, managed to acquire first hand knowledge of the Rachanits' spacecraft technology. Each skirmish and engagement became an invaluable lesson in the art of combating these formidable adversaries. Despite the odds stacked against them, the Atodine successfully repelled the Rachanits' attacks, preventing them from reaching their vulnerable homeworld.
An unintended consequence of their resistance would prove enlightening, if somewhat terrifying. Upon salvaging the wreckage of Rachanit spacecraft, it became apparent that their empire sprawled across vast reaches of space, far eclipsing anything the Atodine could fathom. The asymmetry in size and power was stunningly conspicuous, rendering the Atodine acutely aware of the inevitable disparity they faced.
Nevertheless, the Rachanits remained unwavering in their singular focus: the utter annihilation of Atodine fleets. It was unmistakable that their intent was to obliterate any possibility of retaliation or counterattack. The Atodine, fully cognizant of their limitations, dedicated themselves to fortifying their defenses with renewed fervor, continually refining their strategies and capabilities.
At the heart of this epic cosmic struggle laid Atodine Prime, the cherished nest world of the Atodines. Suspended in the delicate balance between preservation and potential devastation, it has become both a symbol and a stronghold where the fate of an entire civilization hung in the balance. The echoes of battle reverberated through its valleys and mountains, its cities, and countryside, as the Atodine brace themselves against the relentless onslaught of their enigmatic and carnivorous foe.
After meticulously sifting through an extensive array of data harvested from numerous Rachanit ship databases, a comprehensive star map has emerged, painting a detailed picture of the systems strategically occupied by these enigmatic beings and the array of species they subjugated under their oppressive rule. Amidst the disturbing revelations, one unsettling discovery stood out among all others; the de-sentience and complete objectification of certain species that were tragically reduced to nothing more than mere livestock, subjected to unimaginable suffering and exploitation at the hands of their Rachanit overlords.
However, the latest influx of information procured directly from the Rachanits themselves shed light on particular systems that starkly diverged from their controlled territories. These exceptional star systems were distinctly demarcated as a desolate dead zone, an eerie aberration within the otherwise vast web of domains firmly under Rachanit control.
The absence of their iron grip in this particular region raised eyebrows among the Atodine research team, prompting a flurry of questions and stirring curiosity about the secrets it may hold. Why were these particular systems omitted from the domineering reach of the Rachanits? What significance did it hold in the grand tapestry of their galactic conquest? Such queries fueled the Atodine determination to dig deeper into this enigmatic anomaly, propelling us further into uncharted territory where answers awaited our unwavering investigation.
Atodine Orbital Station, Hangar 3
“This is the ship?” Zrieri's concern was evident in her voice as she confronted the chief scientist about the makeshift spacecraft.
With a mix of curiosity and skepticism, she questioned whether this mixture of Rachanit scrap and their own technology would truly suffice for the journey to the Dead Zone. As Zrieri ran her feathered hands across the hull, one couldn't help but sense her apprehension. Krenuk, the lead researcher, was slightly irritated by Zrieri's doubt, puffed up his feathers in annoyance before responding.
“I assure you, the ship is completely space worthy. Yes there has been extensive use of recycled materials, but do not doubt my personal expertise in shipbuilding.”
Zrieri chuckled at his indignation, but bowed slightly in apology.
“This ship is not just a crude amalgamation of resources.” Krenuk continued. “It is a carefully crafted vessel. What's more, it is equipped with a functioning faster than light, or FTL drive.”
Zrieri looked back to the ship. “I wasn’t aware we had finally unlocked that secret from the Rachanit.”
The chief scientist shifted his stance. “We have come to an understanding of the underlying fundamentals of FTL travel. In this case, however, the ship is utilizing a drive salvaged from a Rachanit craft. We are hopeful with the maiden flight to gather enough data to construct our own FTL drives moving forward.” Krenuk's expression turned grave. “This is, however, more than just a test flight. The purpose of venturing into this so-called Dead Zone is to unravel the mystery surrounding it.” He smoothed down the feathers around his neck before continuing. “The Rachanits, either out of fear or some deliberate choice, avoid this area altogether. It’s crucial to investigate why.”
“Do we know anything at all about this area of space other than the Rachanit avoid it like an irradiated wasteland?”
“The truth is, our knowledge of this system is limited beyond major celestial bodies. The dead zone has remained shrouded in enigma despite our attempts to probe the area.”
“Thus, the decision to construct the spacecraft using any salvageable materials we could find.”
“We are making do with what we have. Materials are scarce with the war effort and the loss of most of our off-world resources.” Krenuk folded his feathered hands behind his back. “At the very least, it’s a more robust vehicle than our first star-fliers boarded to enter space.”
Zrieri was raised as a chick on the stories of the early star-fliers. It was part of the reason she had joined the Starcorps. Zrieri was also aware that not all of those brave pathfinders returned home to Atodine Prime. She realized she was now taking the same kind of risks as her predecessors, not simply for knowledge and technological advancement, but to save her people.
“I just hope that this improbable combination of Rachanit scrap and our own technology will get us the answers we need.” she said, gently patting the hull of the ship. “So, what is the ship’s name?”
***
Three hours later the experimental craft, freshy christened Voidflyer, lifted out the hangar bay and made its first flight into space.
Zrieri worked through the controls making sure everything was in working order. She could trust the main proposition systems at least. The station crew had stocked up Voidflyer with plenty of supplies, enough to last her months out in space if necessary. Zrieri meticulously performed her routine checks on the myriad of controls in the cockpit. She was familiar with the controls as it had been ripped right out of a VF-70, the Atodine main-line fighter craft. With her checks complete, Zrieri reached out to command to request the necessary clearance for her imminent departure.
All systems seemed to be functioning optimally, or at least all of the systems that originated from her own civilization. Something was wrong with the FTL navigation system. Zrieri was puzzled by the unexpected errors that began to populate the display screen after entering the coordinates. Her curiosity was further peaked when she realized that the information was being presented in the intricate and alien Rachanit script. The computer was supposed to translate any information into the Atodine language, yet for some reason the error messages seemed to be bypassing the translation subsystems. She was completely unfamiliar with Rachanit, meaning she couldn’t easily diagnose whatever the problem was.
That didn’t mean she was about to give up. The determined pilot carefully retrieved the dataslate of documents Krenuk had provided earlier. Leafing through them diligently, she sought to extract any useful insights that might shed light on this perplexing predicament. Each line and every cryptic symbol on those ancient pages demanded her complete attention and scrutiny. Guided by a resolute spirit, Zrieri cautiously maneuvered through the constrained confines of the spacecraft, making her way towards the heart of its technological prowess, the FTL drive.
A testament to Atodine ingenuity, this intricate piece of alien machinery was somehow interfaced with their own spacefaring technology. It was far from a simple hack-job, but it was obvious a lot of improvising had been done in the integration of disparate technologies. But beyond the integration into the Voidflyer, There was an entire custom built monitoring system added on to observe it in action and gather as much data as possible. It held the key to hyper-dimensional travel capabilities for the Atodine civilization.
With utmost care, she unscrewed a side panel from its sturdy casing. Zrieri was aware how rarely any drive system survived the destruction of the ship it was housed in. The fact the FTL drive had been recovered intact was almost enough to make the Atodine thank the long abandoned gods of her people, because it was a miracle. After exposing the complex network of circuitry and delicate crystalline cards that lay within, Zrieri placed a data slate adjacent to the humming drive.
She concentrated her focused gaze upon each of the crystalline cards, meticulously examining their arrangement and configuration. Taking solace in Krenuk's meticulous notes that he had shared, which documented his extensive research on the craft's inner workings, Zrieri embarked on an arduous task of ascertaining the precise function of each card and testing them. Weighing each possibility with both caution and precision, she soon encountered one card that baffled even the seasoned researcher.
Summoning her audacity and expertise, Zrieri delicately removed this enigmatic card from its designated slot. Strangely, this caused no obvious change in the gentle humming of the drive. She ran a diagnostic, or at least that’s what the program was labeled as. According to Krenuk's notes, the readouts indicated the drive was in working order.
The Rachanit went as far as to put a lock-out chip in the drive itself to keep away from the Dead Zone. I wonder, is it because of some kind of suicidal curiosity in their warriors, or is it really that dangerous?
Zrieri pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind as she closed the access panel. She placed the crystalline card into a padded box and stored it in a nearby equipment locker before retreating back to the familiar comfort of her seat. Zrieri’s feathered hands flowed over the control console, preparing the ship once more for the jump to FTL. She cautiously reentered the complex matrix of coordinates that would lead them to the elusive enemy-free expanse of space.
Before hitting the final conformation, Zrieri looked out at her home of Atodine Prime, then out into the starry void. She thought back to Janaria , the first Atodine to enter space, whose pod ultimately did not survive reentry. Now Zrieri found herself about to take the same kind of risk.
One way or another, I’ll be joining you in the history files, Janaria. Zrieri reached out and engaged the FTL drive.
This time, to her immense relief and satisfaction, the powerful FTL drive seamlessly spooled up, producing a mesmerizing cascade of energy that gracefully enveloped the small craft. With a surge of anticipation, Zrieri expertly guided her vessel through the dazzling vortices of swirling cosmic energies, initiating the seamless transition into the space fold. As the ship disappeared into the rippling fabric of the universe, an exhilarating wave of accomplishment washed over Zrieri.
Was this what it felt like when Janaria first pushed past the atmosphere and looked down on Atodine Prime? She wondered.
Dead Zone, System 001
The Voidflyer emerged from Hyperspace, only to be greeted with the sudden blare of the proximity alarm. The klaxon reverberated through the cockpit, causing Zrieri's heart to lurch. Her instincts kicked in immediately, the adrenaline-fueled surge urging her into swift action. Looking at the main screen, she found herself face to face with a colossal object, ominously positioned right at her Hyperspace lane exit point. A collision seemed inevitable, a disaster looming on the horizon. However, Zrieri was chosen for this mission for a reason. Her years of piloting experience and natural dexterity came to the fore as she deftly maneuvered the ship, skillfully navigating her way around the massive obstacle. With mere centimeters to spare, she managed to avert catastrophe, her pulse still racing with the close call.
But little did she know that the challenge was far from over. As she glided further through the cosmic expanse, her sensors pinged multiple objects all in close proximity to her small ship. This time, Zrieri knew she couldn't rely solely on her reflexes and luck to navigate what had to be a debris field. Instead she had to execute precise calculations and strategic movements to avoid a potentially devastating impact. Mid-action, countless variables raced through her mind as Zrieri quickly mapped out a course, but didn’t have time for the computer to double check it. She carefully dodged and weaved through the treacherous path, desperately seeking a clear passage to safety. Finally, Zrieri managed to break free from the seemingly endless maze of debris that had been her welcoming committee.
Zrieri took a moment to collect herself, before gently guiding the ship away from the wreckage. This allowed her to survey the scene with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. A thorough scan followed, revealing a disconcerting sight. Much of the shattered fragments and twisted metal matched the unmistakable signature of Rachanit ships. The distinctive marks and faded insignias were evident, signifying the remnants of what must have once been a formidable fleet. However, some of the debris appeared significantly older, betraying the passage of time and hinting at past encounters. It was as though Zrieri had stumbled upon a graveyard of battles long forgotten.
Yet, amidst the mangled wreckage of Rachanit derelicts, the scan brought forth an unsettling revelation. Interspersed among their battered Rachanit ships, were vessels of an entirely unknown origin. Even in their destroyed state, these unidentified ships possessed an air of mystique and promise. Unlike their counterparts, they seemed remarkably intact, their hulls still retaining a semblance of functionality. They were enigmas within the chaos, adding an extra layer of intrigue to the already intricate tapestry of cosmic intrigue that enshrouded Zrieri's surroundings.
With a careful hand, Zrieri adjusted the heading of her vessel. She maneuvered the sleek and agile Voidflyer back into the sprawling debris field, if at a much reduced velocity. Her desire for a closer examination of the mysterious unknown derelicts overwhelmed her, urging her to explore the unknown. As Zrieri drew closer, she flicked a switch, activating the floodlights that adorned the exterior of the Voindflyer. The resulting luminosity revealed a distinctively boxy design amidst the dilapidated wreckage, catching her attention instantly.
However, it was not just the peculiar shape that captured Zrieri's focus; it was a symbol etched onto the hull that truly intrigued her. It depicted a blue sphere covered with equally vibrant green shapes, all of which was accentuated by bold and striking white markings. Puzzled, Zrieri directed her scrutiny towards the battered and scored black hull, contemplating its origins and purpose. Seeking answers, she turned her gaze towards the consoles of the Voidflyer, hoping that her ship's computer could assist her in uncovering the enigmatic text adorning the derelict.
To her surprise, the ship's computer managed to decipher and translate the cryptic message emblazoned on the hull, revealing two significant pieces of information. First, the text read "UNSD Providence," a name that indicated the derelict was once a formidable heavy cruiser. Fascinated by this unexpected revelation, Zrieri felt her curiosity deepen even further. Delving into her thoughts, she contemplated the implications of discovering a seemingly abandoned spaceship amidst the wreckage-filled void.
Despite her enthusiasm, a hint of caution tinged Zrieri's decisions as she carefully piloted the Voidflyer closer to the drifting hulk. Her gaze fixed upon what appeared to be a docking port, offering a potential connection point between the two vessels. However, her uncertainty regarding the compatibility of the Voidflyer's own docking port with that of the Providence caused a momentary hesitation to grip her. The last thing she desired was to initiate a risky and potentially hazardous docking process. Yet, as Zrieri observed the Providence more attentively, she noticed an intriguing detail — the seemingly dormant vessel still retained a glimmer of power. This revelation sparked a flicker of hope within her adventurous spirit. Against her initial reservations, Zrieri's gaze fixated upon the extended docking port of the Providence, reaching out as if inviting the Voidflyer to establish a connection. The juxtaposition of uncertainty and possibility warred within her as she weighed the risks and rewards, ultimately poised to make a daring decision that could potentially reshape her journey.
As Zrieri expertly maneuvered the sleek Voidflyer closer to the Providence docking port, her eyes widened with surprise as she noticed that the aliens' docking mechanism perfectly aligned with her ship's. It was a rare stroke of luck amidst the inhospitable reaches of space. Strapping on her trusty space suit and securing her helmet, she prepared herself for the treacherous journey ahead. With a resolute determination, Zrieri made her way towards the airlock, the gateway into the unidentified vessel. As she stepped inside the airlock, her eyes immediately fixed upon the readout, which displayed alarming details. Multiple breaches in the hull of the Providence had resulted in a vacuum and complete absence of gravity within its confines. However given how long the derelict had been adrift neither condition was altogether surprising.
A sense of inconvenience filled the air, as Zrieri grumbled to herself about her distaste for weightlessness while deftly cycling the airlock. She remembered how unpleasant that part of her training had been at the academy. The airlock opened, revealing a disconcerting spectacle before her. The interior of the ship was shrouded in blinking red emergency lighting, amplifying the eerie atmosphere that enveloped her. The fact that there was still reserve power left spoke volumes of the ship design. Uncertain of the path that lay ahead, Zrieri cautiously embarked upon the red-lit corridor, her senses heightened with each tentative step of her gravtalons.
Along her journey through the labyrinthine passageway, she encountered various rooms, some preserved in a state of integrity while others ominously opened up to the unforgiving empty void of space. Each room silently bearing witness to the mysterious events that had unfolded within the bowels of the derelict vessel. Finally, reaching the end of the corridor, Zrieri's keen eyes caught sight of a vertical shaft ascending above her. An upward path beckoned her, promising a potential answer to the enigmatic depths of the ship.
Caution prevailing over curiosity, Zrieri meticulously marked her previous locations, ensuring that she wouldn't succumb to the disorienting expanse of this forsaken place. Her determination echoed through the corridor as she muttered to herself, vowing not to lose her way amidst this derelict maze. She turned off her gravtalons and began to ascend the shaft with a blend of nimbleness and concentration.
Zrieri eventually reached the pinnacle, only to be confronted by a formidable pair of sealed doors. A glimmer of frustration danced across her features as she tirelessly attempted to budge them, employing every ounce of her strength. Yet, fate seemed to conspire against her, refusing to grant access to the secrets that lay beyond those imposing barriers. Undeterred by this setback, resolve surged through her being as she descended back down the shaft, propelled by an unwavering determination to discover a tool that could pry open those obstinate doors.
Zreini retraced her steps down the cold, dimly lit shaft, her mind focused on finding a solution to the sealed doors blocking her path. Every step echoed against the metallic walls as she scanned her surroundings, desperately seeking an object that could serve as a makeshift pry bar. After what felt like an eternity, her eyes caught a glimmer of hope, a long piece of metal hidden among the debris. Without hesitation, she snatched it up, feeling the weight and sturdiness it held. Ascending the shaft once again, Zreini's determination grew as she approached the sealed doors.
With a determined expression, she inserted the metal bar between the unforgiving panels, channeling every ounce of her strength into prying them apart. The doors resisted stubbornly, as if mocking her efforts.
Frustration bubbling inside her, she muttered aloud, "Stubborn doors!" her words swallowed by the vast emptiness of the ship's corridors.
Yet, Zreini refused to yield. Summoning her resolve, she persisted, pouring all her energy into forcing the doors open. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of exertion, the doors relented, reluctantly sliding apart. Yet, victory came at a price. Caught off guard by their sudden movement, Zreini stumbled, crashing into the cold bulkhead opposite the opening. The impact sent the metal bar flying in the opposite direction, clattering noiselessly as it bounced against the floor and out into the void.
Ignoring the ache in her shoulder and the taste of defeat lingering in her beak, Zreini straightened herself, reaching up to adjust her helmet. Her gaze fixed upon the widened door opening, curiosity mingling with anticipation as she peered into the darkness beyond. It didn't take long for realization to dawn upon her. She had discovered the bridge of the Providence, or rather, what was left of it. The telltale signs of Rachanit weaponry ravaged the room, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation.
Undeterred by the destruction, Zreini carefully maneuvered her way into the bridge. Her eyes scanned the remnants of what once was a bustling hub of activity, finally settling on the raised seat at its center. There, she found the remains of the Providence's captain, preserved in his breached spacesuit, desiccated but in-tact. The space mummy was still strapped into the seat. A sense of melancholy washed over her, dying to the void was a fear in every spacer’s heart. At the same time, she felt a sense of awe at the silent dedication displayed by the fallen leader, standing watch eternally as his ship drifted.
Approaching the seat with reverence, Zreini examined the captain's final resting place. Despite her eagerness to gather information, she vowed to disturb the scene as little as possible. Zreini had no clue what this species’ burial rites were, but she wanted to show nothing but respect to the fallen spacer. With delicate movements, she gently pushed the captain's arm aside, revealing a functioning screen nestled in the seat's armrest. The ship's mainframe was still functioning, at least somewhat. The last remnants of the Providence's technological spirit flickered on the screen.
Without wasting another moment, Zreini retrieved her scanner, her nimble fingers deftly navigating its interface. Its soft blue light illuminated her face as she aimed it towards the mainframe, hoping to extract any fragment of valuable information, a lifeline of knowledge hidden within the ship's core. To her surprise and relief, the scanner successfully retrieved an abundance of data, promising a glimpse into the Providence's secrets and history.
As Zreini meticulously sifted through the retrieved information, her gaze inadvertently wandered to the badge adorning the captain's chest area. Illuminated by the flickering lights, the insignia held a profound significance. She directed her scanner towards it, her curiosity demanding answers. In an instant, the translation software swiftly deciphered the inscription etched upon the badge: "Rory Parks, Commanding Officer, UNSD Providence."
The discovery sent a shiver down her spine. Names became more than mere words or titles. They embodied lives, stories, and sacrifices. Zreini couldn't help but wonder about the brave souls who once inhabited this ship, each with their own tale, now buried deep within its steel and circuitry. Motivated by preservation and a duty to honor those who came before, she transmitted the gathered data to the Voidflyers' computer, ensuring that the legacy of the UNSD Providence would not fade into oblivion.
Zreini, her expression somber and contemplative, crossed her arms as she slowly lowered herself down in front of the fallen commander. Her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy, she spoke in a hushed yet confident voice, addressing Commander Rory Parker.
"I must admit, dear Commander, that I haven't had the opportunity to encounter your kind or, indeed, any being quite like you before," Zreini's voice carried an air of respect and reverence, as she acknowledged the uniqueness of their encounter. "But now, in this moment, fate has brought us together. From this void, you shall watch over and protect your people, forever enshrined in their collective memory, Commander Rory Parker."
With these words of farewell hanging in the air, Zreini gracefully rose from her bowed position and set off towards her trusted Voidflyer. As she made her way back, there was an uncanny synchronicity to the scene that unfolded before her. It appeared as though the UNSD Providence, the massive spacecraft that had been her destination, had been awaiting her visit. Its presence was a testament to the peculiarities of the universe, always finding ways to manifest remarkable coincidences. However, it was at this very moment, upon entering the airlock, that a disconcerting disruption shattered the tranquility.
The emergency lighting within the vessel flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows and sending shivers down Zreini's spine. A surge of anticipation coursed through her veins, hinting at something extraordinary about to unfold. Outside the confines of the airlock, Zreini's eyes widened with disbelieving awe. It seemed as though Commander Rory Parker himself stood summing near, his ghostly figure illuminated by the tumultuous illumination of the faltering emergency lights. In a poetic gesture, he raised his arm in a quiet salute, characterizing a final farewell before the lighting altogether faded into darkness, leaving Zreini alone in her bewilderment.
Startled and perplexed by what she had just witnessed, Zreini reached for her trusty light, the beam of its illumination slicing through the pervasive darkness. She meticulously scanned her surroundings, eager to uncover any trace of the enigmatic Commander Rory. But alas, there was nothingness. No signs, no traces; simply an impenetrable void. Craving answers, doubts began to swirl within her mind like a chaotic maelstrom. She checked her life support systems for any issues, but they came back all green. Was she just tired, or was it something more?
"What was that…apparition? Was it just my imagination, or was it actually the fleeting specter of the departed commander?" Zreini questioned herself amid the solitude of the airlock.
The implications of such an encounter with the ethereal world sent shivers down her spine, making her question the boundaries of reality itself. One thing she was sure of, there would be no mention of it in her report. Gathering her wits and wrestling her emotions under control, Zreini closed the airlock behind her, sealing off the mysteries that lay beyond. Stepping back into the familiar confines of her ship, she activated the cycle sequence, disconnecting from the Providence.
Slowly but surely, the Voidflyer broke free from the gravitational grip of the human vessel, propelling itself out carefully from the debris field. After the ship was safely out of any immediate danger, Zrieri engaged with the data she had meticulously gathered from the ship. She knew now the race called themselves humans and they originated on the third planet of this very system. Zreini's star charts underwent a transformation. The seamless integration of the acquired information initiated an update, revealing new cosmic coordinates within the vast tapestry of the universe.
And then, facilitated by the translation software, an unexpected revelation emerged, a message intended for the Providence, concealed amidst the data. Anchored to the coordinates that had materialized before her, a message finally unraveled, demanding her attention.
"Earth has fallen, fall back to Alpha Centauri."
The words struck at the core of Zreini's being, triggering a surge of empathy and concern. She turned her ship's sensors towards the third planet of the system. Even with the horrors of the war with the Rachanit fresh in her mind, Zrieri was not ready for what she saw. The planet was destroyed, Not just glassed from an orbital bombardment, the planet had been cracked in two, all the way to its core. Earth’s once life-giving atmosphere had been stripped away by the solar winds of its own star when its magnetic field collapsed.
“Monsters…” Zrieri whispered. With clenched fists and a resolute expression, Zreini punched in the coded star system coordinates, her voice filled with a measured determination. "I pray that this Alpha Centauri still exists, that something remains of these people! The universe needs some measure of hope at least."
Zrieri was well aware that the message she had unveiled was distressingly dated, possibly an echo from a bygone era. But it didn’t matter, she needed to know. Without hesitation, driven by the yearning for answers and the spark of hope, Zreini once again activated the FTL drive, plunging herself and her vessel into the abyssal depths of interstellar travel. The destination lay before her, shrouded in mystery
Dead Zone, System 002 (Alpha Centauri)
As the Voidflyer hurtled through hyper-dimensional space, its sophisticated translation software strained to piece together a comprehensive Lexicon from the fragments of data Zreini had managed to extract from the human spaceship. Nonetheless, before the system could complete its task, Zreini's attention was abruptly yanked away by the blaring of the proximity alarm at the hyperlane exit, signaling a looming threat.
“Not again!” she chirped as she took hold of the controls tightly.
An immense and ominous presence awaited her, and Zreini instinctively exerted all her strength, desperately maneuvering to dodge the colossal object. Even with the maneuverability of the Voidflyer and her own skill and experience, an inevitable disaster struck with full force. The Voidflyer collided with the object, scraping along her underside. Alarms and claxons rang in Zrieri’s ears before her head collided with her console, plunging her into unconsciousness.
***
When Zreini finally regained consciousness and surveyed her surroundings, she was met with a bewildering revelation: she was miraculously alive.
“I guess I won’t be meeting Janaria today after all.” She muttered as she rubbed her forehead gently.
However, the same fate could not be claimed for the crippled Voidflyer, which now lay dormant and powerless in the enshrouding darkness of the cockpit. There were numerous hull breaches, but the cockpit was still fully pressurized. Emergency power was keeping the life support systems online for the time being, but every other system seemed to be offline. Peering through the cockpit windows, her gaze fell upon a disheartening sight; a trail of coolant and vapors spiraling from her damaged vessel.
And there, in stark defiance against the backdrop of the cold celestial abyss, loomed the cause of her misfortune: an enormous, angular, obsidian ship. Its design bore a striking resemblance to that of the UNSD Providence, but what sent a shiver down Zreini's spine was the sight of the behemoth's menacing turrets trained directly upon her vulnerable craft. As if it would take more than one shot to vaporize the Voidflyer.
The implications of this encounter fueled a fearful realization within her; humanity still lingered in the cosmos. As Zreini intently studied the illuminated lettering adorning the side of the imposing vessel, She had been on smaller space stations than this singular ship. It was reminiscent in certain design elements to the Providence, and a sudden surge of urgency propelled her to hastily employ her scanner in an attempt to decipher the meaning. With bated breath, she witnessed the screen illuminate with its translation: "UNSD Relentless."
The humans were indeed present; evoking a maelstrom of emotions within her already frayed nerves. In that critical moment, the Relentless maneuvered itself alongside her ship, looming large and casting a daunting shadow over her world. Peering over the edge of her cockpit, Zreini's eyes widened as she beheld a mammoth bay door slowly creaking open, revealing a glimpse into the depths of the unknown. However, before her curiosity could be sated, she was startled by resounding thudding sounds reverberating through the wounded hull of the Voidflyer; a vivid auditory reminder of her predicament. In a matter of moments she found herself being inexorably drawn towards the embrace of the gargantuan Relentless.
The sensation of gravity returning to her body was comforting as she came under the sway of the Relentless’ gravity generators. The flood of bay lights cut through the darkness like beacons, illuminating the once-desolate interior of the cockpit and exposing a bustling hive of activity within the bay. Zreini swiftly deduced that her unintended collision with the Relentless had triggered an alarm within its crew, setting in motion their rescue efforts. Without delay or fanfare, the distorted remnants of the Voidflyer were delicately lowered onto the solid floor of the bay; an act of careful precision amid the tumultuous events unfolding.
Zreini gingerly unstrapped herself from her seat, a jolt of pain coursing through her as she realized that something was painfully broken. Waves of discomfort radiated from her ribcage, making it excruciating to take even the slightest breath, while her right leg throbbed mercilessly, rendering it unable to bear any weight. Determined to escape her crippled vessel, she mustered all the strength she could find and stumbled towards the airlock. Summoning the last vestiges of her energy, Zreini desperately pulled off a side panel, revealing the emergency locks securing the doors. With trembling fingers, she released them, the clunking sound echoing in the confined space. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Zreini exerted what little force she could muster to push open the inner door.
The dank air of the airlock greeted her as she did the same with the outer door, its resistance ultimately giving way to a pneumatic hiss. Peering into the expansive bay beyond, Zreini's eyes widened at the sight that met her gaze. A group of humans, clad in formidable armored spacesuits, stood before her, their weapons ominously trained on her battered form. A rush of adrenaline coiled within her, propelling her senses to heightened alertness. Just as panic threatened to consume her, a voice pierced through the tense silence, commanding the armed human contingent to stand down. Instantly obeying the authoritative command, they lowered their weapons, revealing a glimmer of hope within Zreini's battered soul. Yet, before she could extend her gratitude or even gather her thoughts coherently, Zreini succumbed to the relentless darkness tugging at the edges of her consciousness. Her frail form succumbed to the physical and emotional trauma, surrendering to oblivion.

I say it into the mirror, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight smile.
“I am happy.” My fingers clutch the edge of the bathroom sink, and a muscle twitches near my eye. Something tugs at the corner of my mind. A thought, maybe. It’s tempting me to peek at it, begging me to acknowledge it and push it out into the light of day, but I can't.
I won't.
My mother calls me from the kitchen. “Are you ready for school?”
“Yes,” I call back. “I am.”
I take another few moments to stare at myself. I burn the image of how happy I am into my memory, just in case I start to forget.
It’s a big day, after all.
The car chokes and sputters as it makes its way to school. I’m in tenth grade and I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but I know that’s okay. It’s normal. Nobody does.
Except for Maggie Taller, and Suhky Raj, and David Cho, and Adam Wallace. They’re going to be doctors and engineers and carpenters and drug dealers. They’re going to be happy.
We pull into the school parking lot. The van spits out a plume of smoke the size of Jupiter. Once the pollution clears, I open the door and look out over a sea of faces. Some of them are staring back at me. Some of them are snickering. One of them is Maggie Taller, and she’s waving—all red curls and dimples, so I wave back. My stomach does a frontflip.
“Have a good day,” my mother says. I look her way, and her face lights up with an expression that resembles a smile, but it’s not. There’s not enough play in her cheeks. She forgets to engage her eyes.
“I will,” I reply. I use the same smile that I practiced earlier. It’s much better. When I look back to the steps, Maggie is gone, and my stomach settles.
I lurch out of the car. “Honey…” my mother says. She reaches a hand toward me but stops short, almost as if she's worried I might snap at her or bite it off. She stares at me. "Things will get better for us, you know."
I close the door. The car leaves, backfiring as my mother runs the stop sign and nearly collides with an oncoming pick-up truck. It’s okay, though. Nobody is hurt.
I am happy.
The mutters follow me to my first-period English class. The voices are hushed, but loud enough that I can hear them. It’s intentional. It’s by design.
“... walks like a goof.”
“... saw him staring at Maggie’s ass.”
“... smells like a dead animal.”
“... we’ll get him after school.”
I listen to Mr. Yu discuss the significance of metaphor in literature. He spends the hour comparing Animal Farm to Twilight, and demanding why we waste our time reading the latter. He says it’s dumbing us down. He says it’s a problem. I’ve never read Twilight, but I smile and nod all the same.
He asks me to define the word ‘metaphor,’ and I do my best, but I get the answer wrong. Somebody laughs. Why wasn’t I listening earlier, I wonder. What’s wrong with me?
“... what a dumbass.”
I am happy.
At lunch, I get a table to myself. It’s good because it means I have personal space to come up with ten different metaphors for Mr. Yu.
The cafeteria is loud. Too loud. I try to focus on my paper and pen, and I scratch down my favorite metaphor to get started: It’s raining cats and dogs. I look at it and smile. It makes me think of my sister before the horror took her.
I wonder if it will take my mother too.
The other examples don’t come easily for me. My eyes scan the definition of 'metaphor' over and over, but my mind draws a blank. I can’t think. I can’t focus. I wonder where Maggie is sitting today.
A folded piece of paper lands on the table in front of me. I look up to see where it came from– to see who dropped it, but I can’t tell. There are too many people moving around, too many faces swimming, and too many voices drowning my concentration.
I unfold it.
There’s something written on the inside, hastily-scribbled and messy. It says, “YOUR DEAD,” in pencil-gray. A stickman is lying beneath the words, surrounded by three other stickmen. They’re stepping on him. Kicking him. Red pen strokes paint the page haphazardly, trailing from the crying man on the ground. I look closer. The other stickmen are smiling. They’re happy.
Something pulls at the edge of my thoughts. I ignore it.
The bell rings, and school is over. I gather my things and pull my backpack up and over my shoulder. It’s heavy and awkward. It takes me three tries to get it right.
Today is a big day.
I make my way from the school grounds, over the hill that leads to the forest path that runs along the little creek. I make my way home. My arms are tired by the time I get over the hill, but that’s okay. It just means I’m getting stronger. All the work I’ve been doing in the forest is going to pay off.
Voices follow me. I recognize some of them.
“... pervert is gonna get what’s coming to him.”
"... believe it when I see it."
"... heard Maggie moaning about wanting what's inside of him."
"... fuck you."
The forest is full of people. There are joggers and people walking dogs. A homeless man asks me if I have any change, and I say that I’m sorry, but I don’t. He tries to spit on me but misses.
“... a liar. Gimps like you make bank off disability checks.”
My arms get sore by the time I’m halfway through the forest. I take the same shortcut I usually do, the one that runs by the creek, and there are fewer joggers and dog-walkers. I get nervous, but the babbling sound of the water helps me relax. Today is a big day.
“... I’ll kill him. Watch me.”
“... yeah, right. He’ll be fucking Maggie before you ever get the balls to.”
“... we’ve only been dating two weeks. I’ll fuck her.”
“... not before him.”
Footsteps approach from behind. It sounds like three people and one more in the distance. I don’t see them, but I know them. I know their smiles. I know they’re happy.
A fist connects with the back of my head, and I fall forward, losing control of my crutches. My face smashes against the pavement and my vision swims as pain explodes across my cheek. I taste something in my mouth. Blood. I try to push myself up but my legs aren't cooperating. They're hardly moving. They're useless.
“Crippled fuck!” a voice shouts. It’s Adam Wallace. He's working himself up. “You thought I'd let you get away with staring holes into my girlfriend’s ass?"
I try to say something, but a foot steps on my backpack, and I’m pressed to the ground. The wind’s knocked out of me. I can’t breathe. Shoes connect with my face, one after the other. There’s laughter in the air. A sneaker finds my nose and there’s a crunching sound, and suddenly I can’t stop screaming as warm fluid spills down my face, cascading over my lips. I sputter and whimper. My eyes well up.
“... somebody will see us.”
Hands grab my limp legs. I’m being dragged backward, off of the cement path, and deeper into the forest. I call out, and somebody stuffs a ball of cloth into my mouth. It reeks. It tastes like sweat and filth.
“... bet you wish that was Maggie’s panties, you perverted shitstain.”
I close my eyes. I try to smile. I am happy. I am happy. Tears slip down my cheeks, and something tugs at the edge of my thoughts. I ignore it. I have to.
It takes ten minutes to get to where we’re going. The skin on my elbows is split and torn, caught on too many rocks and roots. They let my limp legs drop with a dull thud. I’m hyperventilating. It’s hard to breathe with the jockstrap in my mouth and a broken nose. There’s death in the air.
I’m rolled onto my back, and I feel my backpack shift against my spine. It’s uncomfortable, but not half as uncomfortable as Adam Wallace wrapping his hands around my neck and strangling me.
“... he’s actually doing it.”
“... I thought he was just fucking around.”
The trees above me fade with the air in my lungs. I gasp and sputter, but there’s no air to breathe and I’m not strong enough to pry his hands from my throat. He leans in close, his lips pressed to my ear. “You think I'm gonna let you cuck me?” he asks, and his voice is dipped in cyanide. “I warned you to stay the hell away from her.”
“... taking too long.”
“... use this.”
I hear the sound of a switchblade opening. The hands around my neck let go, and I take in a lungful of air. My heart hammers in my chest. I try to move, instinctively, and crawl away, but somebody grabs me by my backpack and drags me back.
“... there’s something in there.”
“... open it.”
Four arms wrestle the backpack off of me, and I groan in agony as somebody presses my broken nose into the dirt. I protest but it’s muffled by soil. Nobody hears it. Nobody cares. I hear my knapsack’s zipper being undone, and my pain is washed away and replaced with terror. My body seizes. I forget to breathe.
The moment lasts a lifetime. I know their words before they ever speak them.
What the fuck?
I hear the sound of a backpack hitting the forest floor, and things spilling out of it. I hear gagging. Retching. I hear footsteps stumbling backward. Soon, their shock will be replaced with anger. Rage. Something tears at my mind. It’s crashing against it. Demanding it’s time in the light and roaring at me to stop being such a coward and do something about this. I slam my eyes shut. I can’t. I won’t.
I am happy.
“... filled with dead animals.”
“... he’s a fucking psychopath!”
Hands grip the front of my t-shirt and pull me up from the ground. They’re shouting about the dead squirrel and the dead rat and the dead bird in my bag. A fist connects with my face. Blood hits the ground. Another fist. More blood.
“... what kinda freak collects dead animals?”
“... I'm gonna hurl.”
I open my mouth, and I don’t care anymore. The words come out like a broken dam. It feels good. It feels overdue. “Offerings,” I sputter. “They’re offerings.”
“... he’s lost it.”
“... offerings for what?”
I smile, and my teeth are slick with my own blood. “Offerings to cure me.”
Adam Wallace raises the switchblade, pressing the cold steel against my throat. I close my eyes. Something riots inside of me, throbbing against my skull. I push it back. Death is in the air. Rough hands grip my hair, and I wince as they lurch my head roughly to the side. Adam’s voice is beside me. It's up against my ear. “Offerings, huh? You think you’re some kinda fuckin’ witch, Hermione Granger?”
“No,” I say.
Something shifts in the trees behind Adam and his friends, and a figure steps out from the brush. I recognize them. They've been following us since we left the school.
Suhky recognizes them too. He tries to step in front of Adam and me, to block us from view. Words fall out of his mouth. He's giving them an explanation, maybe. A reason things aren't as bad they seem. He's interrupted by a horrible, wet-sounding jab. Then another. There’s a series of four slick rips, like a pen tearing through paper, or a knife cutting into skin. A gasp.
“... Jesus, Maggie!”
Adam clambers off of me.
“... what’s wrong with you?”
“... she fucking killed him, Adam!"
Suhky falls to the ground. I close my eyes. I am happy. Warm piss soaks the dirt beneath me, and my limbs tremor with anxiety. I am happy.
There’s the sound of panicked feet, but it’s going in the wrong direction. It’s running away from me. The person’s muttering and whimpering, and I think it sounds like Adam Wallace but I can’t be sure.
Somebody else is struggling now. Two voices dance together on my left, just past my vision. A boy and a girl. It's David Cho and Maggie. They’re grunting a symphony of dying breaths. I hear dirt shift and leaves crack beneath stirring footsteps, and the smack of limbs grasping limbs.
There’s another wet jab, and a body drops. David asks, why? Another slick rip. The knife's tearing into him over and over, and he keeps asking why. Why are you doing this? Why me, Maggie? I hear his skin split twice more, and the questions stop.
A girl steps into view, standing above me. Her hair is a wild red, and her face is speckled crimson, just like the knife in her hand. She reaches down, and I think she might help me up, but instead, she starts placing the dead animals back into my bag, one by one.
“You forgot the rabbit,” she says, and her voice is colder than winter. Her eyes appraise me but they're missing something. They're empty. “That demon will kill you, you know. Just like it killed your sister, and just like it'll kill your mother, too. You’re running out of time."
"I know," I say.
“Then give it to me.”
"I'm trying to."
She pouts her lips. Folds her arms. A doll hangs from her neck, and it's dressed in pins and needles and it looks like me. "I told you three offerings, didn't I?" She looks around. "I count two and a bag of roadkill."
Adam.
I have to roll over so I don’t choke on the blood spilling into my throat from my broken nose. “I can’t,” I cough. “I can’t catch him on crutches.”
“Then don’t,” she says with a sneer.
Something tugs at my mind. I close my eyes. I clench my fists. I want to scream and lose control, but I can’t because if that happens, then I’m not happy anymore. People I love will die. They always do. “Can’t you get him?”
“He’s too fast. Besides, the spell is specific. The final offering dies by your hand, or the demon can’t change hosts. Your nightmare doesn't end." Her mouth splits into a wide smile. "You don't have to kill him alone, though."
I stare at her, and I don’t have any words to fight back. She kneels next to me and runs a hand through my tangle of hair, gripping it painfully. She’s smiling, but she’s not. There’s not enough play in her cheeks. She forgets to engage her eyes.
"... now or never."
"... I can't."
"... sure you can."
I whimper as the knife plunges into me, again and again. There’s a ripping sound, followed by another, and another. I clench my eyes. I ball my fists. I am happy. I am happy.
The knife sinks into me once more, and this time Maggie fishes it around my stomach. It twists, and I scream. I thrash and roar. Something escapes. It pulls itself over my bones, wraps itself around my mind, and extinguishes my thoughts before whispering madness into my ears.
I am not happy.
And neither is it.

TL;DR : Depressed and lonely af, looking for the video game equivalent of Mr. Robot for coping/catharsis. (Think Disco Elysium but doesn't have to be similar).
Going through feelings of depression, loneliness and existential dread, and I finally have ample of time to get back into gaming, so I'm looking for a very particular type of game as a means of coping/catharsis through this difficult period in my life.

What I'm looking for:

• Immersion/Atmosphere: I want to be as sucked into the world as possible. Cohesive UX/UI that makes the game feel like one whole. Distinctive art style/art direction/tone. Artistic use of music/score/sound design.
  
• Emotional: I want to feel alive. I want to feel things. I want to cry. I'm okay with darker themes as long as the game isn't just hellbent on mentally destroying me like TLOU2 lmao.
  
• Character-Driven: I want great, rich writing, and complex, layered characterization to take centerstage over everything else. (Think more Better Call Saul than Breaking Bad). I don't want to be an infallible hero, I want a flawed protagonist I can connect with on a human level.
  
• "Interactable" Characters: This is the loneliest I've ever been, looking for ample of well-written characters to dialogue with. This doesn't necessarily have to be the pure rpg approach with freedom/options if there's already a lot of great scripted cinematic dialogue. They don't even have to be "friendly" as long as they're realistic.
  
• Themes of Identity and Mental Health: Very specific but I'm desperately looking to experience a journey in a game that parallels mine in real life. I was in a similarly difficult place in my early teens and it was the show Mr. Robot that almost acted as a form therapy for me with the way it explored identity and mental health. I'm looking for that feeling of catharsis once again.
  

What I'm NOT looking for:

• Bloated/Padded Out Open Worlds: I'm fine with an open world game ONLY if the quality of the optional/side content is indistinguishable from the main story. If the filler stuff is actually just filler then I'd rather not play the game.
  
• Pure-Escapism/Feel Good Games: Comfort games like Stardew Valley and Dave the Diver are great at making me feel warm and fuzzy, but once I turn them off I'm back to feeling the way I did before. I want games that can act as a catalyst to make me at least confront and wrestle with my reality.
  
• Games where World/Plot is given more importance than Character: I love rich worldbuilding, lore, plot just as much as anyone but I don't want it at the expense of character. RDR2 is one of my favorite games of all time, with Arthur being one of the most complex protagonists in the medium, but I doubt I would've loved it as much if I ended up givng it a first playthrough now. More often its the huge world and grand overarching narrative that becomes its priority, with its slow burn pace and realistic gameplay servicing just that. The world itself is a character of its own. I'm looking for something more in the vein of Mr. Robot and Better Call Saul but in the gaming medium.
  

So far the only games I've played that have done the job for me have been Disco Elysium, and The Last of Us Part 1 to a certain extent.
I also found out that the Mass Effect Trilogy is on sale. And although this game has been on my wishlist because of how acclaimed it is, I'm not sure if it's the right fit for me atm or has aged that well so I wanted to throw that out there as a possible option too. Also haven't played Alan Wake 2 yet and have no idea if it's what I'm looking for.

Hello!! I’m currently looking for a few players for a campaign set in an alternate time line of the One Piece world. We’ll be running weekly on Tuesdays at 7PM EST. I’m looking for 1-2 players to come aboard and bring along all their hopes and dreams!!!
You would be joining a game set in the West Blue that is like 5 sessions in. My big factors I want to bring to the game is that it is role play heavy with a big world to explore. There's going to be a focus on found family with a lot of roleplaying between the characters as they form a crew and get closer, and of course, the journey to the grand line! There isn't too much of an overarching story at the moment, but more the idea of going from island to island exploring, helping people, and making new friends! I should probably include that if you don't know what One Piece is you may be lost with all of this so I'd appreciate people with some base knowledge of the series but we have people in our game who have watched like 50 episodes and people who have watched 1000, so either is fine! We are recruiting like 5 sessions in because we lost 2 of our players due to scheduling and different styles of play, which is why I think it's important to read all of this if you are interested in joining to know what you are getting into! We had 6 people to start so losing 2 using isn't that big of a deal since 4 is a great number! However, one of the players was the captain of the crew and it feels like there is a bit of something missing in the game. If you are applying to join, you don't have to be the captain though, but if you'd like to, that could be an option! As for the altered time line part of the game, it mainly makes it so all the characters in One Piece still exist in this world but could either be in the same role they have in the normal story or could be in a different role. It would be more of a rarity to run into canon characters since I mostly like to just stick to making my own stuff, but it's a possibility!
I like to work personally with players to make their story part of the game. As there isn't much of an overarching story, I like to just make the story about what the characters are going through and possibly incorporating things that happened in their past into the islands ahead. We did a fun thing in this game where some of the party members sat out for a couple sessions and got to have a whole island based around them, so that it felt more like gathering a crew rather than everyone just being together at the beginning with no build up. That would be an option if you were interested in the game! We can also design devil fruits together if that is something you want your character to have from the start! I love for people to get creative and think of outside of the box ideas and solutions and promote people using things in ways that are fun rather than what the rules may say. Also here's some basic stuff about the game!

• We are using Roll20 as a VTT with Discord for voice chat
• We are using OneWorldHD's conversion of 5e that makes it fit more in line with One Piece. It is mostly flavoring classes to make more sense in the one piece world, making spells into special abilities and stuff like that, but I also allow stuff from normal D&D if it makes more sense for your character!
• We also use some other minor homebrew rules like enemy minions from Flee, Mortals! and flanking giving a +2 to hit.
• I also allow homebrew if I can check it over and make sure it fits into the game setting!
• The party is currently at level 3 and will be leveling up at a decent pace.
• Only players 18+ please! That's just a preference, we don't do anything NSFW in the game

Somethings to know about the game is that I want to emulate the One Piece style as much as possible which means it can go from extremely silly goofy to really sad. The silliness can be meta at times with one of our PC's being a wrestler, there are characters who are references to real world wrestlers with plays on their name. Other things being like that people don't tend to die in this game. Like, I'm not going to make you think about the morally gray decisions of leaving a villain alive and letting him cause chaos again or killing him and having blood on your hands. This isn't that kind of game! Everyone will just be knocked out when they go to 0 HP and you have my good faith that I won't punish you for not killing people, plus a big thing of one piece is returning villains! Due to homebrew and just how One Piece is, it's possible there may be power discrepancies within the party. While combat does happen in the game, I look to make sure that I give everyone in the game the option to participate in their own way. So while the first mate of the crew may save everyone in combat, the navigator may save everyone while sailing!
For some context of what the current party is, I'll give a brief description of each of them below!

1. An aloof human scientist (Tinkerer) with a robot crab that can turn into a briefcase! Studying animals across the world in hopes of finding the best designs for a robot within nature itself!
2. An octopus fishman wrestler (Bruiser) with a mean win streak with the goal of becoming the king of pirate wrestling! (he has a win streak because he doesn't know wrestling is fake and has been actually knocking out his opponents)
3. A mermaid with the color color Devil Fruit (Wizard) who is unable to ever return home. She's depressed, but she's still here, trying to find and reunite with her true Captain after being kidnapped and taken away from the grand line.
4. A human navigator with the origami origami Devil Fruit (rogue) who is obsessed with the stars, wanting to one day make a map of the whole sky. She is a master at navigating her ship by the stars (daytime is a real struggle)

As for myself, I'm a 26 year old trans woman who has been playing dnd since high school! A good chunk of our players are part of the LGBTQIA+ so if you are part of that, that's great! We have trans, non-binary, gay, and straight people in our game so we are just looking for people who are respectful to everyone! As for dnd, I ran my own little fiverr shop for awhile making dnd homebrew for others. I've DM'd for a lot of games and have been told my strong suits are more towards having quirky characters and fun roleplay rather than like big overarching plots and epic stuff.
If this seems like a game you would like to join, fill out this form below and leave me a comment here telling me you did! If you have any questions you can feel free to DM me or leave a comment asking. I will schedule to have an interview over voice with you on discord if I feel you may be a good fit!
Form https://forms.gle/rhdu8bgES9XtEgxd7

TL;DR : Depressed and lonely af, looking for the video game equivalent of Mr. Robot for coping/catharsis. (Think Disco Elysium but doesn't have to be similar).
Going through feelings of depression, loneliness and existential dread, and I finally have ample of time to get back into gaming, so I'm looking for a very particular type of game as a means of coping/catharsis through this difficult period in my life.

What I'm looking for:

• Immersion/Atmosphere: I want to be as sucked into the world as possible. Cohesive UX/UI that makes the game feel like one whole. Distinctive art style/art direction/tone. Artistic use of music/score/sound design.
  
• Emotional: I want to feel alive. I want to feel things. I want to cry. I'm okay with darker themes as long as the game isn't just hellbent on mentally destroying me like TLOU2 lmao.
  
• Character-Driven: I want great, rich writing, and complex, layered characterization to take centerstage over everything else. (Think more Better Call Saul than Breaking Bad). I don't want to be an infallible hero, I want a flawed protagonist I can connect with on a human level.
  
• "Interactable" Characters: This is the loneliest I've ever been, looking for ample of well-written characters to dialogue with. This doesn't necessarily have to be the pure rpg approach with freedom/options if there's already a lot of great scripted cinematic dialogue. They don't even have to be "friendly" as long as they're realistic.
  
• Themes of Identity and Mental Health: Very specific but I'm desperately looking to experience a journey in a game that parallels mine in real life. I was in a similarly difficult place in my early teens and it was the show Mr. Robot that almost acted as a form therapy for me with the way it explored identity and mental health. I'm looking for that feeling of catharsis once again.
  

What I'm NOT looking for:

• Bloated/Padded Out Open Worlds: I'm fine with an open world game ONLY if the quality of the optional/side content is indistinguishable from the main story. If the filler stuff is actually just filler then I'd rather not play the game.
  
• Pure-Escapism/Feel Good Games: Comfort games like Stardew Valley and Dave the Diver are great at making me feel warm and fuzzy, but once I turn them off I'm back to feeling the way I did before. I want games that can act as a catalyst to make me at least confront and wrestle with my reality.
  
• Games where World/Plot is given more importance than Character: I love rich worldbuilding, lore, plot just as much as anyone but I don't want it at the expense of character. RDR2 is one of my favorite games of all time, with Arthur being one of the most complex protagonists in the medium, but I doubt I would've loved it as much if I ended up givng it a first playthrough now. More often its the huge world and grand overarching narrative that becomes its priority, with its slow burn pace and realistic gameplay servicing just that. The world itself is a character of its own. I'm looking for something more in the vein of Mr. Robot and Better Call Saul but in the gaming medium.
  

So far the only games I've played that have done the job for me have been Disco Elysium, and The Last of Us Part 1 to a certain extent.
I also found out that the Mass Effect Trilogy is on sale. And although this game has been on my wishlist because of how acclaimed it is, I'm not sure if it's the right fit for me atm or has aged that well so I wanted to throw that out there as a possible option too. Also haven't played Alan Wake 2 yet and have no idea if it's what I'm looking for.

This is the list that I wrote for the 113 inmates executed by the state of Virginia, from the 1976 Gregg national reinstatement of the death penalty to the state abolishing it in 2021. For the sake of clarification, the dates given here are an approximate timeframe of the offender's earliest known criminal activities to their executions. Many of the crimes surveyed here are also extremely horrific, and the gory details are discussed in my descriptions. Please read at your own risk.
Unfortunately, as with Missouri, the list exceeds the maximum 40,000 character count Reddit allows for submissions, and thus I had to split it into two separate posts. Here is the link to part 2 of this list.
The 113 executed offenders:
1. Frank Coppola (~1960s-1982, electric chair): Coppola, his wife, and two other accomplices hatched a plan to rob Payton Wetchell, a 55 year old car dealer, at his home. One of the accomplices posed as a delivery girl, and lured Payton's wife, 51 year old Muriel, out by ringing the doorbell. The group then forced themselves inside at gunpoint and tried extorting from her valuables though beatings. Mariel’s head was slammed against the door numerous times, and she ended up dying from suffocating on her vomit and a brain hemorrhage. When Peyton arrived at the scene, he was beaten as well. Although he survived, the treatment for the fractures required Peyton to have a steel plate grafted on his forehead, and he took his own life about a decade after the incident. The Coppolas and their accomplices made off with $3,000 and 3 rings. Coppola was a career burglar, and lost his job as a policeman for failing to report inmate abuse. His execution caused some controversy, as a witnesses described Coppola's legs catching fire during the electrocution.
2. Linwood Briley (~1971-1984, electric chair): In 1971, at the age of 16, Briley killed his neighbor, 57 year old Orline Christian, in a sniper attack from his bedroom window while she was laying clothesline. He escaped prosecution by convincing authorities that it was an accident. 8 years later, Briley went on a rape and robbery spree with two of his brothers (including James) and another accomplice. They murdered anywhere between ~12-21 males and females in their attacks. Their means of killings were very diverse and circumstantial, and completely indiscriminate on who they killed. The eldest known victim was 76 year old Mary Gowen, whom they raped and shot to death, while their youngest was 5 year old Harvey Barton, who was shot dead after the gang gang-raped and murdered his pregnant mother, 23 year old Judy. Some like, 17 year old Christopher Philips had his head crushed with a concrete block, a few others like 62 year old Mary Wilfong were beaten to death with baseball bats, and 59 year old Charles Garner was fatally stabbed with scissors and a fork. Almost all the victims were murdered in their homes, but some were attacked at their jobs. While on death row, Briley and James escaped with 4 other inmates, but were recaptured after a 3 week long manhunt.
3. James Briley (~1970s-1985, electric chair): He was one of Linwood Briley's brothers, and he assisted in him in the robbery, rapes, and murders of at least 12 to 21 people. As previously mentioned, Briley and Linwood broke out of prison on death row with several other inmates, and were all recaptured within weeks after their escape.
4. Morris Mason (~1960s-1985, electric chair): Mason broke into the homes of two elderly women, 86 year old Ursula Stevenson and 71 year old Margaret Hand. In both attacks, the victims were raped, beaten with an ax handle, bound and nailed to chairs, and burned alive when he set their houses on fire. He also attacked a pair of sisters, who were 12 and 13 years old, in their home. The 13 year old grabbed a gun from their father’s closet for protection, but Mason wrestled the gun away, and shot her instead. She survived with crippling injuries. Mason then kidnapped the 12 year old, took her to a nearby forest, and sodomized her. He covered the girl with leaves, lit them on fire, but she survived with only minor burns to her hair and shirt. Mason was also responsible for several burglaries during his crime spree, and was convicted several previous times for arson attacks. Authorities believe that Mason was committing acts of arson since his childhood. His execution sparked some controversy, due to him allegedly having a cognitive disability.
5. Michael Smith (~1970s-1986, electric chair): Smith kidnapped 35 year old Audrey Weiler while she was walking from a beach. He dragged her into a forest and raped her. During the sexual assault, Smith stabbed Weiler and drowned her in a nearby river. At the time of the attack, Smith was a sex offender with a rape conviction, and had reoffended against Weiler only months after his release from prison.
6. Richard Whitley (1980-1987, electric chair): Whitley went to the home of his occasional employer, 63 year old Phoebe Parsons, to vent about his broken marriage. As they were conversing, he stabbed Parsons to death. During the attack, he sodomized Parsons with an umbrella, and engaged in sex acts with her body. He then sacked the home of any valuables, stole her car, and fled to Florida.
7. Earl Clanton Jr. (~1971-1988, electric chair): At the age of 17, Clanton killed an unidentified woman in circumstances largely undisclosed beyond it being a robbery. Although Clanton was given a 26-28 year sentence, he was paroled 8 years later. A year after his release, he strangled a neighbor, 38 year old Wilhemina Smith, during a robbery of her home. He also had a malicious wounding conviction when he badly injured a teenage boy with brass knuckles, and his mother had made complaints of him stealing money from her. However, Clanton claimed that she faked her complaints in retaliation for him refusing a sexual relationship with her. Clanton also took part in the mass prison escape orchestrated by the Briley brothers, but was recaptured with them.
8. Alton Waye (1977-1989, electric chair): Waye invaded the home of 61 year old Lavergne Marshall, and stabbed her 42 times. He then raped Marshall and poured bleach on her body.
9. Richard Boggs (1984-1990, electric chair): After Boggs killed an unidentified man in a hit and run accident, he rushed to the home of his neighbor, 87 year old Treeby Shaw. When she offered him tea, Boggs hit her in the head with a steel object, and stabbed her to death with a butcher knife. He stole some silver from the home, which was discovered by investigating police officers in his car. On an unrelated side note, Boggs' older brother was shot dead by police during a car chase some years after his execution.
10. Wilbert Evans (~1964-1990, electric chair): While incarcerated for a robbery in North Carolina, Evans was transferred to Virginia to testify at a murder trial. While being transported in a prison van, he decided to take the opportunity to escape, and seized a gun from one of his escorts, 47 year old William Truesdale. Truesdale was shot dead during the struggle and Evans used the gun to destroy his handcuffs. Although he managed to jump out of the van, Evans was cornered by police officers only a few blocks away, and was recaptured followed a bungled suicide attempt. Evans had an extensive criminal history, and was convicted of robbing a gas station at the age of 18. During his time on death row, he protected staff members held hostage from being raped and abused by the Briley brothers during their attempted escape. His execution caused some controversy, as blood was observed coming out of his blood, nose, and eyes during the fatal shocks.
11. Buddy Justus (1978-1990, electric chair): Justus abducted and raped 3 women, 32 year old Rosemary Jackson, 21 year old Stephanie Hawkins, and 21 year old Ida Moses, and shot them to death. He was charged with a 4th murder, as Moses was pregnant and her unborn child also died in the attack. In two of his known murders, Justus was assisted by an 18 year old man that he befriend after he picked him up hitchhiking. He also received several life and death sentences in the states of Georgia and Florida.
12. Albert Clozza (1983-1991, electric chair): Clozza snatched 13 year old Patricia Bolton while she was walking home from a bookmobile. He dragged the girl into a forest and sodomized her with a twig. She was also severely beaten in the attack, and the corner's report mentioned that Bolton was "asphyxiated by her own blood."
13. Derrick Peterson (1982-1991, electric chair): During a holdup of a grocery store, Peterson shot and killed the manger, 45 year old Howard Kauffman. He then ran off with thousands of dollars worth in checks and cash.
14. Roger Coleman (~1977-1992, electric chair): Coleman tricked his sister-in-law, 19 year old Wanda McCoy, into letting him inside her house. He then raped and stabbed her, and she was nearly decapitated in the attack. A long standing sex offender, Coleman was convicted of raping a woman in her home a few years prior to McCoy's murder, and had exposed himself to two other women just before the killing. Unfortunately for him, one of the women happened to be an artist, and she drew a sketch that enabled the police to identify him for the murder. Despite his past offenses, Coleman had a strong following for his innocence among the anti death penalty crowd. A notion that was debunked following a 2006 DNA test that concluded his guilt.
15. Edward Fitzgerald Sr. (1980-1992, electric chair): Out of fear of her being a police informant, Fitzgerald abducted his drug dealer, 22 year old Patricia Cubbage. He raped and stabbed her 184 times, and reportedly carved a "tick-tack-toe design" into Cubbage's back.
16. Willie Jones (1983-1992, electric chair): Jones tricked the parents of an acquaintance, 78 year old Myra and 80 year old Graham, into letting him inside their house by pretending to be an undercover cop searching for missing children. He shot and killed Graham, tied up and gagged Myra, locked her in a closet, and stole their entire life savings (which amounted to $30,000). To destroy any evidence of his crime, Jones set the house on fire. Myra, who was still tied up and trapped in her closet, was burned alive. Jones was also one of the inmates that escaped from death row with the Briley brothers, but was recaptured weeks after the breakout
17. Timothy Bunch (1982-1992, electric chair): Bunch, a then active service Marine, was dating Su Cha Thomas, a 40 year old South Korean immigrant. Believing that Thomas was too much like his “slut” ex wife, Bunch decided that he wanted to rob and kill her. He tricked Thomas into letting him inside her home with the promise of a date. She was shot in the head and Bunch hung the body to a closet doorknob with a scarf. Bunch then ransacked the home, and stole a watch, diamond ring, and a pearl necklace. According to investigators, he confided in them that he had an orgasm while robbing and murdering Thomas. After the killing, Bunch was deployed to Japan, but extradited back to Virginia to face trial for Thomas’ murder.
18. Charles Stamper (1978-1993, electric chair): While robbing a restaurant that he worked at, Stamper shot and killed three of his co workers, 43 year old Agnes Hicks, 35 year old Franklin Cooley, and 20 year old Steven. He stole a total of $4,000 in the robbery. On death row, Stamper was attacked by fellow death row inmate Lem Tuggle for allegedly being a snitch. The assault left him permanently paralyzed, which made his execution somewhat controversial.
19. Syvasky Poyner (~1970s-1993, electric chair): Poyner shot and killed 5 females, 72 year old Louise Paulett, 45 year old Joyce Baldwin, 44 year old Carolyn Hedrick, 43 year old Chestine Brooks, and 17 year old Vicki Ripple during a two week long robbery spree. He directed his attacks towards beauty parlors, supermarkets, ice cream shops, and motels. A life long career criminal, Poyner had several auto theft, forgery, and burglary convictions, and his earliest date back to when he was 14 years old.
20. Andrew Chabrol (1991-1993, electric chair): Chabrol, a Navy serviceman, made unwanted advances on a fellow married sailor, 27 year old Melissa Harrington, and refused to back down despite repeated rejections. Harrington filed sexual harassment charges, and Chabrol was dismissed from service following an investigation. Angered by the loss of his career and her rebuffing his advances, Chabrol kidnapped Harrington from her home with the help of a friend, and tied her to his bed. He then raped and strangled her to death. The case attracted outcry years later when it was discovered that Chabrol and Harrington’s remains were buried in close proximity to each other in the Arlington cemetery.
21. Joe Wise (1983-1993, electric chair): Wise abducted 45 year old William Ricketson during a robbery. He beat and shot his captive in the eye and chest, dumped him in a water hole used for an abandoned power plant's lavatory, and drove off with his truck. Although Ricketson survived the shooting, he drowned in the hole.
22. David Pruett (~1975-1993, electric chair): In 1975, Pruett fatally stabbed his co worker, 22 year old Debra McInnis, while robbing a restaurant they worked at together. As the investigators weren't able to solve the McInnis murder, Pruett remained a free man. 11 years later, he tied up his friend's wife, 35 year old Wilma Harvey, in the couple's home while her husband was out of town. He raped Harvey, stabbed her 29 times and slit her throat, ransacked the house for any valuables, and stole an undisclosed amount of money. Pruett was also tried and sentenced for an unrelated rape incident alongside Harvey and McInnis' murders.
23. Johnny Watkins Jr. (1983-1994, electric chair): Watkins gunned down two store clerks, 41 year old Carl Buchanan and 22 year old Betty Barker, during a week long robbery spree. In the robberies that killed Buchanan and Barker, Watkins stole a combined total of $125. His brother Ronald was also executed for an unrelated robbery murder [for more details, please see section 49 on Ronald Watkins].
24. Timothy Spencer (~1980s-1994, electric chair): Spencer broke into the residences of at least 5 women and girls, 44 year old Susan Tucker, 35 year old Debbie Davis, 32 year old Susan Hellams, 32 year old Carolyn Hamm, and Diane Cho, a 15 year old South Korean immigrant, and raped them. All the verified victims were strangled to death with ligatures and ratchets. Another man was falsey convicted of Hamm's murder, but was cleared of guilt in a 1989 DNA test. The falsely accused man was one of the first inmates to be exonerated using DNA testing, while paradoxically Spencer was the first serial killer to be convicted with DNA evidence. Spencer also had a history of burglaries before his killing sprees.
25. Dana Edmonds (1983-1995, lethal injection): During a robbery of a grocery store, Edmonds tied up a grocer, 62 year old John Elliott. He bashed Elliot's head with a brick, stabbed his neck, and took $40 from the register.
26. Willie Turner (~1970s-1995, lethal injection): In 1978, Turner shot and killed W. J. Smith, a 54 year old jeweler, during a jewelry store robbery. A few years prior to Smith's murder, Turner had killed an unidentified inmate in largely undisclosed circumstances while serving time for a malicious wounding conviction, but was let out on parole. While on death row, Turner took part in the Briley brothers led breakout, and made several escape attempts on his own. In one incident, Turner pretended to have smuggled a gun in his cell, and used the hoax to make threats against the prison staff.
27. Dennis Stockton (~1950s-1995, lethal injection): 18 year old Kenneth Arnder allegedly crossed a dealer during a drug deal. The dealer retaliated by paying Stockton $2,000 to kill him. Stockton lured Arnder in his car with the promise of driving him to safety, and shot the youth in the eyes. He cut the hands off his body to prevent identification and dumped it in a remote North Carolinan forest. Stockton had a long criminal history since he was a teenager, which included several convictions of arson, safecracking, drug dealing, and weapons possession charges. Police also found dismembered body parts kept in a jar in his home, but Stockton claimed that it was simply a gift given to him by a biker gang, and he only kept the remains to show off at parties.
28. Mickey Davidson (1990-1995, lethal injection): Davidson’s wife, 36 year old wife Doris, made a decision to leave him for her ex husband. In a jealous rage, he beat her and her two daughters, 14 year old Mamie and 13 year old Tammy Clutterback, to death with a crowbar.
29. Herman Barnes (1984-1995, lethal injection): Barnes held up a grocery store at gunpoint, and shot and killed the owner, 72 year old Clyde Jenkins. Mohammad Afifi, a 42 year old Palestinian immigrant that worked as the store’s clerk, was also gunned down when he came to his boss’s aid.
30. Walter Correll Jr. (1985-1996, lethal injection): Correll and two accomplices ambushed, carjacked, and kidnapped 24 year old Charles Bousman Jr. after they motioned him to stop on a remote highway. After they stole his rings and watch, they beat and stabbed Bousman to death, dumped his body in a nearby forest, and drove off with his car. His execution was a source of contention, as Correll's supporters and attorneys assert that he was an intellectually disabled man set up by his accomplices for lesser sentences.
31. Richard Townes Jr. (~1970s-1996, lethal injection): Townes shot a clerk, 32 year old Virginia Goebel, in the head while robbing a grocery store, and stole $183 from the register. He had a long history of violent robberies, and had shot and wounded a taxi driver after holding him hostage for 6 hours several years before Goebel's murder.
32. Joseph Savino III (~1980s-1996, lethal injection): After he was released on parole from an armed robbery conviction, Savino beat his boyfriend, 64 year old Thomas McWaters, to death with a hammer in their home. According to Savino, McWaters was pressuring him for sex, and threatened to have his parole revoked if it was withheld.
33. Ronald Bennett (1985-1996, lethal injection): Bennett broke into the home of Anne Vaden, a 28 year real estate agent. After he tied Vaden up, Bennett beat, strangled, and stabbed her to death. One of Vaden's rings was stolen in the robbery, and he gave it to his wife. The murder was left cold for a year, but was solved when Bennett's wife drunkenly confessed her husband's deeds to a friend while showing off the ring.
34. Gregory Beaver (~1980s-1996, lethal injection): After Beaver escaped from a Maryland rehab center, he went on a rampage that involved stealing a car and storming a restaurant his stepfather owned to rob and assault him. While speeding away from the scene with a hitchhiker he picked up, Beaver was pulled over by Leo Whitt, a 49 year old state trooper. In the scuffle that broke out, Beaver shot and killed Whitt. The hitchhiker then tricked Beaver into stopping at a nearby restaurant, and he used the payphone to call the police on him. Beaver previously had 10 unspecified felony convictions, which was why he was placed by his family in the Maryland rehab center.
35. Larry Stout (1987-1996, lethal injection): Stout assaulted a dry cleaning store with a knife, slashed the throat of the owner, 40 year old Jacqueline Kooshian, and stole $1,200.
36. Lem Tuggle Jr. (~1971-1996, lethal injection): In 1971, Tuggle raped and fatally strangled 16 year old Shirley Brickey, and was given a 20 year sentence for it. He was released from prison after serving 10 years. Two years after his release, Tuggle lured 52 year old Jessie Havens from a dance hall, and then raped and shot her to death. On death row, he participated in the mass escape orchestrated by the Briley brothers, and paralyzed the above mentioned Charles Stamper for allegedly being an informant.
37. Ronald Hoke (1985-1996, lethal injection): Hoke forced his way inside the home of 56 year old Virginia Stell, a woman he met at a bar. He raped and stabbed her to death with a knife taken from the kitchen, and stole some medication from Stell's purse.
38. Michael George (1979-1997, lethal injection): In 1979, George lured 9 year old Larry Perry from his grandparents' home, and shot the boy dead after raping him. As the body was never found and the prosecution couldn't disprove his claims of it being an accidental killing, George was able to secure an involuntary manslaughter plea deal from the courts, and was released within two years for good behavior. After his release, he molested several teenage boys, and expressed fantasies about them being sexually tortured by "evil creatures" in the forest in his written works of fiction. In 1990, George made his fantasies a reality when he ambushed and abducted 15 year old Alexander Sztanko while the boy was ridding a motorbike. He shackled Sztanko to a tree, sodomized him with a stun gun, sliced pieces of his skin with a machete, shot him in the head, and stole his motorbike. Other teenage boys in the area also reported being assaulted in the same manner as Sztanko by a “Rambo like” camouflaged assailant. Although it is strongly believed that George was responsible for the attacks, he wasn't convicted of them.
39. Coleman Gray (1985-1997, lethal injection): Gray kidnapped 49 year old Richard McClelland while robbing a store he managed. He forced McClelland to collect over $12,000 in cash, drove his captive to a remote dirt road, and shot him six times in the head.
40. Roy Smith (1988-1997, lethal injection): Smith got into a violent argument with his wife in their home, and the neighbors called the police on him. He fired on the responding officers, and killed John Conner, a 38 year old sergeant. The remaining officers managed to subdue him after a brief standoff and physical struggle.
41. Joseph O'Dell III (~1958-1997, lethal injection): O'Dell was condemned for the abduction, rape, and strangulation murder of 44 year old Helen Schartner. She was last seen leaving from a night club, and her body was found near a beach. His execution was controversial, as O'Dell had a massive support base who believed in his innocence. The circuit court's decision to burn the DNA evidence relating to the Schartner case in 2000 sparked further outcry from them. Despite this, O'Dell was a long time felon with over 17 convictions dating back to the 1950s, and a woman claimed to have escaped a kidnapping attempt from him.
42. Carlton Pope (~1982-1997, lethal injection): Pope shot and killed 24 year old Cynthia Gray and wounded her sister while robbing them at a pool. He had a malicious wounding conviction when he shot a friend in the toe, and was paroled months before Gray's murder for that sentence.
43. Mario Murphy (1992-1997, lethal injection): 37 year old James Radcliff's wife hired Murphy to kill him in order to collect a life insurance policy. She, her boyfriend, Murphy, and 3 other conspirators pounced on Radcliff while he was sleeping in his bed, and they stabbed and beat him to death with a metal pipe. Due to all the other conspirators accepting plea deals, Murphy was the only one sentenced to death for the murder, which he perceived was because of Mexican nationality. His death sentence and execution also caused a minor diplomatic dispute with Mexico.
44. Dawud Mu'Min (1973-1997, lethal injection): At the age of 19 in 1973, Mu'Min shot and killed Charles Shupe, a 43 year old taxi driver, while robbing his taxi. He was given a 48 year sentence for the murder. 15 years later, Mu'Min was assigned to a inmate labor program. While working on a road, he pretended to be on a lunch break, and took the opportunity to sneak away from his escorts and supervisors. Mu'Min broke into a shopping center, raped Gladys Nopwasky, a 42 year old retailer, and stabbed her 16 times with a screwdriver. After he stole $4 from her purse, Mu'Min returned back to the work program.
45. Michael Satcher (1990-1997, lethal injection): Satcher ambushed 23 year old Anne Borghesani while she was biking near a highway. He raped, beat, and stabbed her 16 times with an axl. Another young woman was also assaulted by Satcher in a similar fashion, but she survived the attack. Both of their purses were stolen and disposed of in the same bush.
46. Thomas Beavers Jr. (1990-1997, lethal injection): Beavers broke into the home of 61 year old Marguerite Lowery, and raped and suffocated her to death with a pillow. He sacked the house, stole her jewelry, and drove off with Lowery's car. The killing went unsolved until a year later when Beavers was arrested for sexually assaulting a neighbor in circumstances nearly identical to Lowery's murder. A police search while investigating the neighbor incident found Lowery's stolen jewelry in his house.
47. Tony Mackall (1986-1998, lethal injection): While holding up a gas station at gunpoint, Mackall shot the cashier, 31 year old Mary Dahn, and took $515 from the register.
48. Douglas Buchanan Jr. (1987-1998, lethal injection): Enraged that his father, 43 year old Douglas, married a much younger woman, 31 year old Geraldine, shortly after his mother's passing, Buchanan shot him to death in their home. He also gunned down and stabbed Geraldine and her two sons, 13 year old Joel and 10 year old Donnie.
49. Ronald Watkins (1988-1998, lethal injection): While robbing a store that he formerly work at, Watkins stabbed the store owner, 29 year old William McCauley, 7 time in his back and slit his throat. McCauley's body was discovered by his father, who stopped by to check on his son after he failed to return home on time. As a sidenote, Watkins was the younger brother of the above mentioned Johnny Watkins Jr..
50. Ángel Breard (1992-1998, lethal injection): Breard stabbed his neighbor, 29 year old Ruth Dickie, to death during a botched rape in her home. He also made another unsuccessful attempt at sexually assaulting a second neighbor half a year later, which enabled investigators to tie him to Dickie's murder. His death sentence and execution sparked outrage in his native Paraguay.
51. Dennis Eaton (1989-1998, lethal injection): Eaton and his girlfriend, 24 year old Judy McDonald, carjacked 68 year old Ripley Marston Sr. and 26 year old Walter Custer Jr., and shot them both dead. While speeding away from the murder scene, the couple were pulled over by a state trooper, 48 year old Jerry Hines, and gunned him down as well. In the following police chase, Eaton ended up crashing his car into a telephone pole, and injured McDonald in the process. As they were corned, Eaton finished off McDonald by shooting her in the head, and made an attempt to commit suicide before he was subdued.
52. Danny King (~1980s(?)-1998, lethal injection): King and his then wife duped Carolyn Rogers, a 55 year old real estate agent, into letting them inside a vacant house by posing as clients. They jumped Rogers as she was giving them a tour of the house. She was choked with King's bare hands and stabbed to death in the assault. The couple then stole rings and checks from her purse. Both King and his ex wife blamed each other for the murder, but King was the one that was convicted of it by the courts. King also had a long history of robbery and car thefts, and was released from prison 10 days before the murder.
53. Lance Chandler Jr. (~1987-1998, lethal injection): Chandler shot and killed a clerk, 33 year old William Dix, during a convenience store robbery. He had a criminal record dating back to the age of 14, and had previous arrests for armed robbery, assaulting officers, and public intoxication.
54. Johnile DuBois (~1990s-1998, lethal injection): During a convenience store robbery, DuBois and 3 teenage accomplices tried forcing the clerk, 39 year old Philip Council, to open the register for them. When they thought he was acting too slow, the DuBois and the other robbers beat Council and shot him to death. DuBois had a history of thefts, illicit firearms possessions, assault, and probation violations.
55. Kenneth Stewart Jr. (1991-1998, lethal injection): Stewart separated from his wife, 35 year old Cynthia, after their marriage disintegrated. He was forbidden by the courts from being in contact with their son, 5 month old Jonathan, without Cynthia's consent. To overcome the custody barriers, Stewart tried to reconcile with Cynthia. When she refused, he shot her and Jonathan dead in her home.
56. Dwayne Wright (1989-1998, lethal injection): Wright went on a weeklong crime spree in Maryland and Virginia. In his Maryland attacks, he shot and killed 31 year old Odell Thomas and 24 year old Reginald Turman, and stole Turman's car and a total of $400. He then drove to Virginia, and held Saba Tekle, a 34 year old Ethiopian refugee, at gunpoint in her apartment. Wright forced Tekle to undress, shot her dead when she resisted his attempts at sexual assault, and swapped Truman’s car for hers.
57. Ronald Fitzgerald (1993-1998, lethal injection): Fitzgerald shot and killed 39 year old Coy White in his home in order to get his hands on the man’s 13 year old daughter. He abducted and raped the girl after forcing her to steal money from her father’s pockets, and left her locked in the trunk of his car. After abandoning White’s daughter, Fitzgerald flagged down a taxi driver, Hugh Morrison (age unknown), and shot him dead. Fitzgerald used Morrison’s stolen taxi to kidnap an 18 year old woman and her two children, and drove them to a motel. He raped the 18 year old in the motel room while her two children were watching tv. The family were spared and released, and Fitzgerald forced a couple to drive him to a courthouse with the intentions of committing suicide there. However, the attempt failed with his gun jamming, and he was captured by the police.
58. Kenneth Wilson (1993-1998, lethal injection): Wilson forcibly entered the home of his cousin's girlfriend, 31 year old Jacqueline Stephen, with a knife. He bound Stephen to a bed, and tied her 12 year old daughter and her daughter's 14 year old friend to the bed's posts. Wilson then made an attempt to rape Stephen, and cut her and the girls' throats. Stephen died at the scene, while both of the girls survived their injuries.

Okay, now this is the actual penultimate chapter until things really kick off and Chekov's artillery brigade rains hell upon our favorite characters. Make sure to stay tuned for the next chapter to not miss a thing! As always, thanks again to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating this world we've had so much fun digging deeper into, and thanks to u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for cowriting this with me. Just try not to get your account hacked again, that was ass.
[First]-[Prev]-[Next]
Memory Transcription Subject: Vekna, Startled Investigative Journalist. Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 31st, 2136
Gah, why do they have to make alarms so loud??
Malcos’ whips his head around, looking at an abandoned console as it begins to light up with all manner of alerts and alarms. Many voices start pouring into the room at the same time, each garbled slightly by the console’s obviously older speaker system. Malcos rushes towards it and holds a corded microphone to his mouth. “Stop shouting! One at a time, what in the name of the Herd is going on up there?!”
Despite his attempts, the voices keep pouring in as a nearly incomprehensible mess of voices, but I, and it would seem Malcos as well, can just recognize something about a cloud of something topside. Upon receiving news that Sharnet enacted the first part of her plan, my tail starts to wag behind me, thumping into the side of the vent shaft before I can stop it. Malcos’ ears immediately swivel to my position and I just barely manage to duck away from the vent grate before he gets a look at me. I hold my breath as I listen to the chaos of the room beneath me. That was too close, I need to be more c-
-CHKCHKCHKCHKCHKCHKCHKSCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
The sudden noise startles me something awful, my chest starting to feel tight. No, I can’t. Just breathe in, hold, out, breathe in- okay that’s all I have time for. New alarms join the already existing one, sounding vastly different from the whines of before. I can just hear the door slide open briefly through the cacophony before a muffled voice yells out, “Sir! There’s a gas of some kind below!”
I crawl back, angling myself just right to get a view of what the guard’s talking about. To my shock, I see a rich purple gas spewing out of every ventilation shaft and flowing like water into the hangar down below. But that means…Sharnet, what did you do?? I quickly lick a finger and hold it up to the flowing wind of the shaft. I can feel it flowing towards the direction of the noise that startled me, meaning that I likely only have a sparse few [seconds] before I’m hit with a face-full of that gas. Given where I am, I can reasonably assume what it’s likely to be.
As can Malcos.
The scarred Venlil bleats exasperatedly and slams his paw on the console. “Oh for Spehk’s Sake!! Guards, clear the catwalks and make sure that these two get masks. They need to be sober for what’s about to happen to them!” Malcos bares his teeth at Vane, who beeps like the coward he always was. Malcos starts walking over to one of the emergency boxes, pulling a mask out of one of them. Aha!! “After leading the journalists right to us, you’d better be glad I’m not killing you myself, Vane. The Exterminators will do far wor-”
As Malcos is just starting to put on his mask, I kick out the ventilation grate and fall down into the room. The occupants barely have time to react before I’ve landed atop one of the guards, quickly pressing my gun to the side of their head and pulling the trigger. To my severe relief, only a buzz emits and the unmarked Exterminator falls to the ground like a bunch of pipes. I roll away as the guard lands, righting myself just in time to get a shot off on the other guard. They, too, fall down to the ground. Now, emergency kit!!
I look around frantically for what feels like an eternity until I spot an unattended one on the wall adjacent. I can vaguely see Vane and Clemmit conspiring over something, but that’s an issue for once I’m safeguarded from who-knows-what-drug that’s about to fill the room. I stand and tear open a rickety, rusted emergency kit, clutching my weapon tightly in my hand as I grab the dusty mask held within. However, just as it separates from its brittle latchings, I feel an intense heat next to my paw and my weapon is blasted away from me. It ricochets off the wall and spins below another console, in the same direction as the source of the blast.
“So you’re one of the journalists, I presume,” Malcos’ gravelly voice growls behind his now-applied mask from across the room, a much more modern-looking plasma pistol clutched in his paw. How did I miss that he was armed? He wasn’t! When did he draw?! “I would ask whether you’re Sharnet or Vekna, but in truth I don’t much care. You both have graduated from annoyance to full-blown threat, and will now be treated as such. I assure you, my age hasn’t impacted my aim. Given how generous of a host I am, I’ll give you a demonstration!”
I just barely manage to duck down as I watch a bolt of plasma hit where my head had just been, followed by two more shots that both hit lower than the last. Thankfully, the mask had fallen with me, so I quickly slip it on…only to realize that it’s obviously designed for Kolshians. Why the Brahk is there a Kolshian mask in here?!? The effect of the anatomical mismatch is that the eye-holes don’t perfectly align with my actual eyes, resulting in most of my periphery being completely eliminated. So this is what it’s like to have forward-facing eyes. Figures I’d die as even more of a predator.
“If you think that I’ll let you or your meddling compatriot leave this place alive, you’re sorely mistaken.” Malcos growls out as I hear his footsteps and whirring brace approach, each pace slow and methodical as if he were toying with prey. “You are not the first I’ve killed in service of this empire, and you will not be the last! Not this paw! The Solgalick’s Eye aerosol will be the least of your issues without a working brain to process it, you meddling idiot!” As he moves closer, I take a deep breath, allowing myself the full cycle this time around.
In, hold, out.
In, hold, out.
…Focus, breathe…
…Calm.
Malcos may think he’s taunting his prey, but all he’s doing is enraging another Predator.
With speed I didn’t know I had, I swing around the side of the console and charge towards Malcos. He attempts to shoot me, but I just barely manage to weave through his shots. No matter his skill, our eyes will always make aiming difficult. I can see him pulling the trigger again as my head connects with his torso, sending the both of us flying backwards towards the observation windows. I can hear the air leave Malcos’ lungs, but I likewise feel a horrible, burning strip across my back.
We both fall down to the ground on opposite sides of what looks like an depressed, open-concept control center. I can hear the older Venlil hack and wheeze as he tries to refill his lungs as I reach a few fingers to my back, trying to ascertain the source of the pain. To my dismay, they return lightly coated with blood, confirming a hit. Thankfully, the shot had been glancing, but that still left me with a nasty burn from the plasma. Bastard.
I manage to stand, pushing the stinging pain of my wound as far back in my mind as I can. Malcos, still wheezing, props himself against a wall-bound console as he glares at me with the furious hatred of a thousand suns. “W-Why You… You have the…audacity?? I’ll kill you myself, you vyalpic dyke!!” I see him start to lift his arm, so I leap across space and tackle him onto the stairs. I hear a shot zip past my shoulder as I wrap my paws around his weapon, fighting desperately to rip the weapon out of his grasp.
“You- Won’t- Win- This!” Malcos cries and he writes and thrusts against me as we wrestle for control of the firearm. Despite my best efforts, he begins to get the better of me as the path of the barrel shakes closer and closer to my head. Once it reaches a point of no return, I quickly dodge in the direction of the barrel and let off my pressure, taking a severe chance that he overshoots and gives me the advantage. I see the barrel whiz past the binocular areas I can see through, and my right ear is nearly singed by the blast.
That’s right, you monstrous bastard, you can’t best a fellow predator!
I quickly moved to wrench the gun from his weakened grip. This is my last chance!! I feel my claws being resisted by an object, and pull with the most force I ever have. The implement goes flying out of his paws, shattering one of the observation windows as it falls to the drug-filled cavern below. Guess the windows were made with silicon glass instead of Lucinsteel. Cheap. I turn my attention towards Malcos, looking as his features betrayed his horror at being bested. I don’t care how bad this makes me, I won’t let you-
Before I can finish that thought, my vision multiplies as I’m hit in the head by a point-blank headbutt from Malcos, the disorientation causing me to lose my balance and fall down to the ground. Gah, that Herd-damned-! By the time I regain enough faculties to look around, I see…nothing? Right, periphery! I quickly swivel my head to scan the room as purple gas starts to pour in from the vents. Lo and behold, there’s Malcos making a break for the door.
Unfortunately, he had been able to get too much of a head start, allowing him to reach the door before I even make it to my feet. He looks back at me after tampering with the control panel, a malicious expression on his scarred face. “Enjoy being locked in here! If Vane isn’t going to take the fall, then I suppose you will! Enjoy your fiery death, Bitch!” He then slams the door shut, likely making it towards the lifts to exit using the same maintenance tunnel we used to get here. His comment makes me realize that Vane and Clemmit are no longer here either, meaning they must have escaped during the fight.
Thankfully, I prepared for such an occasion.
I remember how the vent is a straight shot towards the lifts, as opposed to the twists and turns of the catwalks. If I run through them, I’ll be able to beat Malcos to the lifts. Perhaps I should let him get a whiff of the fumes. With the mask having survived the headbutt, I rush towards the vent and pull myself into it, with slightly more trouble thanks to the burn on my back. Not caring about stealth now, I stand in the large vent and run as fast as I can against the air blowing against me. I Need to beat him there.
It’s only a few [seconds] before I come to the vent, and almost before I can think, I jump kick through and come to a landing… on Malcos’ shoulders. We both go tumbling to the floor, part of my torso almost hanging over the edge of the suspended catwalk. Oh that tingle doesn’t feel good. Malcos grunts as he struggles to right himself thanks to the exhaustion from our efforts, the cavern below us and even our own feet now completely blocked by purple clouds. I can feel myself panting as well, but I don’t care. Malcos needs to go down.
“OUT OF MY WAY!!” Malcos screams as he charges at me this time, his head leveled right for my stomach. That’s right you violent bastard, do that. I muster all the strength I can and jump up, my groin just barely clearing his skull. He stumbles forward in an attempt to stop, and I take the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, my claws slipping under his mask and pulling it off his face. Malcos gasps as he realizes what’s going on, but it’s too late to do anything about it.
“You locked the door and left me alone, did you now?” I hiss venomously in Malcos’ ear, a horrible ecstasy flowing through me at the opportunity to enact all my deepest, predatory desires under the guise of righteous fury. If I have to become a monster to stop a monster, then it’s all worth it. “Very hypocritical, Malcos.”
I keep myself steady on top of him as he tries to squirm away, this time being face down as not to pose another headbutting risk. His arms flail behind him as I hear him take more and more breaths of whatever substance Sharnet released into the vents. I can tell that it’s having an effect, as his movements start to become slower, heavier. As I think about that, though, I begin to realize something alarming. My own are doing the same.
I CAN’T BREATHE!!
I should have expected a shortlung attack with all this, but me being the fool I am, I hoped that it wouldn’t come. I fall off of Malcos as I start to root around in my pouch. I can barely see through the restrictive eye-holes of the mask, so I go off of tactile feeling alone. Nonononono-YES!! I pull out a bulb of my inhalant, the last one I have actually. I quickly seal it with the filter latches in the mask and squeeze. My chest suddenly feels like it’s as big as the cavern itself and I’m allowed to breathe again. Once I have some oxygen in my system, I swivel around to look for our target.
A clearly inebriated Malcos stumbles a fair distance away from me, entering one of the lifts as he slurs something to me that I can’t quite understand. I quickly stand and bolt into the second lift, watching as he makes his way towards the tunnel. However, as I’m descending, I see something unexpected. Far further, towards another set of lifts that went all the way down to the loading area, are Vane and Clemmit. The latter is almost dragging the former towards them due to the differences in mobility, both of them having species-appropriate masks. The Yotul must have managed to get the braces back on him!
I think that I can probably stop them if I make it, but I don’t want to leave Sharnet to deal with Malcos alone. He might be running now, but what will his drug-addled mind do when faced with whatever inescapable obstacle she has cooked up? I briefly look between the two groups before making the clear and obvious decision. If Vane escapes, he escapes. Malcos can Not go free again. I veer in the direction that the predatory overseer goes. He’s surprisingly fast like this.
As he closes in on the tunnel, the gas starts to fill all the way up to the roof of the cavern. It’s so thick that I lose sight of Malcos for a brief moment, thanks in part to the awful visibility from behind the mask. Beats breathing in whatever this stuff is at least. As I near the tunnel as well, I can just make out a silhouette ascending the stairs, the gentle whirring of his brace giving Malcos away. I hasten my pursuit, pushing the limits of my medication as I bound up the inordinately long flight of stairs after him.
He Won't Escape This Time, not if I can help it!!
{-Command Requested: Awaiting Input-}
{-[USERID-11229KMD]: switchTrns_Sub -}
{Oh my God, do you have to look at every single angle of this fight? Get on with it!!}
{...Whatever, just hurry it up. You’re going to get behind on your courses at this rate.}
{-Please Enter Name: [Sharnet] -}
{-Searching… 11639 Matches Found-}
{-Import Timeframe Settings? (Y)/N -}
{-Importing…11 Matches Found-}
{-Import Last Location? (Y)/N -}
{-Importing…1 Match Found-}
{-Play From Last Timestamp? (Y)/N -}
{-Playing…-}
Memory Transcription Subject: Sharnet, Crafty Investigative Journalist. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
I had to think fast. Malcos was a drug lord, he would have a gun for certain. I either had to pin him in a way that his arms couldn’t grab the gun, or trap him in a way that I would be out of his line of fire! Okay! But he would have to have some experience with violence given his past. Actual experience that I didn’t have, no matter how many times I got angry and lashed out.
That cut out any plan of pinning him down, leaving only trapping. I needed to think about what I have around. The herds had already cleared out, they had knocked over all the guiding ropes and tail poles that organized how pilgrims traveled through the temple. Hm, I can’t use others to take him-
Wait! Rope!!
I dashed towards where a strand was tied to a pillar, my body moving almost as fast as I could think. When building the refugee shelter, Jacob has shown everyone how to make a kind of lasso loop to help haul things up into ceiling. Tie a knot leaving a loop, and pass the other end of the rope through that loop. Pull on the rope, and the newly created lasso would close around whatever was inside. I could set it down where Malcos would run when he exited the passage and pull it tight around his leg when he emerged!
My hands moved fast, finishing the knot at the same time as my thoughts. I carried it next to the exit, laying the trap upon the floor where he would have to step. I would be able to pull him- Wait, even if I pulled from behind the pillar, he would still possibly be able to run towards me to shoot me. No, I need to pull it from somewhere he can’t easily reach.
My eyes cast themselves around the room, taking it all in as I tried to deduce the best position. There were all the pillars out in the foundation area, but their design was such that they couldn’t be climbed on. However, the room itself had an elevated walk-around so people could get another point of view of Solgalick’s statue. High ground, perfect!
I dashed to the access stairs, trailing the rope behind me so as not to disturb the lasso loop. I heard my claws clink against the metal stairs as I climbed. I could feel my chest aching from the exertion, but I couldn’t give up now. Not when I’m so close!
I didn’t know what I was doing, while I also did know. I was acting faster than my conscious mind could keep up, and I had no qualms about that. The faster I could perform my tasks, the better a chance I’d have to catch Malcos. I just finished climbing the stars, so I looked over th-
ALREADY?!?!
A Venlil form that certainly wasn’t Vekna emerged from the tunnel, and I had already pulled the rope to ensnare them by the time I realized what was going on. I watched as the rope tightened the noose around the Venlil’s paw. Hah, th-
They Sidestepped.
Somehow, someway, the Venlil I could reasonably assume to be Malcos managed to get their paw out of the way, stumbling severely upon the completion of their impossible feat. I felt my heart jump into my throat as I scrambled for options. No trap! What now? Can’t get away! He needs to stop! How? Throw something! Knock him out!
I reached into my travel pack, ripping out the first thing that my claws found purchase on and flinging it out in Malcos’ general direction, hoping that it hits. However, I noticed two things as it was sailing. Firstly, its trajectory was looking more towards the statue than Malcos. And secondly?
It’s the Brahking Egg. Of Course it is.
I was helpless to watch as it arced towards the statue, managing to hit right on one of Solgalick’s braziers, the impact strong enough to shatter both the glass jar and the brittle metal neck of the suljiit. The egg plummeted to the ground, but to my surprise, it found my original target, splattering over the stumbling form of Malcos with a sickening crack. He bleated in shock and collapsed to the ground, his ears thrashing in alarm. Finally, it’s gone…now’s not the time for confused feelings!
Barely a [second] after my thought finished, the metal brazier falls from its now baseless-perch, the fall extinguishing the flame held within. Yet despite its similarly brittle appearance, the brazier remained intact as it fell directly on Malcos’ legs, resulting in another sickening crunch. However, the matching scream didn’t follow, Malcos just pawing at the air in front of him, waving his arms in front of his face. A face I only now recognized as having nothing over it. Huh, I thought he’d be smart enough to wear a mask.
I was about to head down to the ground floor to survey the damage, but then another form emerged from the tunnel. They wore what looked like a Kolshian mask, but I could recognize those shades of gray anywhere by now. “Vekna!” I called out to her.
Most likely due to the ill-fitting mask, she had to rotate her entire head to look at me through the eyeholes. Kind of like…I should check on her after this. But for now? “Check and make sure he’s still breathing! I-I can’t let him get off that easily!” She flicked her ears and started towards him, but she didn’t get far before something else caught our attention.
The sound of a shuttle taking off!
An absurd part of me that hadn’t kept up worried the shuttle was Malcos, that I had captured the wrong person, so I looked out of the sunlight slat to watch the horizon. I saw a shuttle take off from the nightward side of the temple and turn sunward to begin its ascent. I remembered the maps of this temple, where it rose had to have been connected to that secret hangar as well as any other normal shuttle bays. And whoever was piloting it must have avoided the drugs, making their escape right now! Speh! I wanted to get them all-
An ear-splitting -KRAKOOMM- sounded from all around me, accompanied by a bright flash of light.
Lightning? Here??
The lightning seemed to carve itself out of the sky as the bolt struck the shuttle in one of its engines, causing it to trail smoke. It began to list more and more sunward until it was just about pointed directly at it before another boom sounded…and the shuttle was gone. Did it…did it engage FTL in-atmosphere? I wasn’t into ships like Vekna was, but something told me that going FTL in the air while pointed towards the sun wouldn’t turn out good.
It was directly into the gravity well of the star. It’ll take a miracle for whoever that was to survive, and I doubt anyone here has that kind of favor. Especially if that’s the bastard I think it was.
I was shaken from my thoughts by the sound of a loud clang from below. Looking down, I saw the faceplate that had adorned the statue cracked in half on the ground. Speh, right, the property damage. I looked up to see how bad it was, only to be further baffled. Under where the second suljiit had been was what looked like a shortsword of some kind, made of the same pristine marble as the…statue…
That face is Definitely Not Venlil. Not even counting the clear nostrils carved into its uncharacteristically angular snout, a third eye stared out from the center of Solgalick’s forehead, shining with a thin red light reflecting from a gemstone in its pupil. One that looked almost exactly like how the temple compound had from above, as if Solgalick Themselves were staring into the soul of everyone within this room, judging. But wait, this statue was supposedly carved before the Federation even got here. What…
…I’m going to have a Lot of questions about this.
For now, though, we needed to continue our plan. I dialed up the High Magister as I flew down the stairs, rushing over to Vekna. She had since discarded her Kolshian-intended mask and was looking between me and…well, everything else. “Sharnet! What was- what’s- did you see the- and then the mask, it-”
Before she could pose another half-question, the call went through and the visage of a tan Venlil stared back at us. Their fur was marked with brown stripes down as far as the camera’s field of vision went. They were backed by two Exterminators, likely agents of Malcos like the ones down in the cavern. Once they caught sight of us, they split their ears in concerned confusion. “Hello? Who is this? How did you get this CIN??”
“Yes, hello, High Magister Yiven?” I asked, not waiting for a response to pan my holonote’s camera down towards the very high, and equally crippled, Malcos at our feet. “As you can well see, we’ve taken care of your boss quite handily. His payouts will no longer grace the local office. In that spirit, I believe that you should call a Code Zero if you know what’s good for you.”
It was still a bit surprising how silent Malcos was. Now that the chaos was finally over, I was able to get a good look at him. His legs were definitely broken, with what looked like a medical brace hanging mangled off his left side. He looked to have a lot of scars, especially on his egg-covered face. I noticed that he was bathed in a red light, seeming to come from a gemstone embedded in the statue’s third eye. It bounced the light from our star down upon him, a terrified look etched on Malcos’ face. Hopefully all those drugs are making him see a fraction of the damnation he’s earned, but for now he needs to face our mortal judgment.
“It-it’s him!” I heard someone say from my holonote, “that’s Malcos!” I turned the screen back towards myself, happy to know I had confirmation of the identity. Instead of the High Magister, though, the masked face of one of the Exterminators took up the screen.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, now i-” I wasn’t even able to finish my sentence before the Exterminator pulled away from the screen and leapt upon their colleague without as much as a moment’s hesitation. A roaring bleat coming from the speaker shortly after, its source without question. “You Brahking Puddle of Speh You have NOTHING now I wanted to do this for CYCLES you Tenets-Damned SPEH none of you can touch her now and I’m gonna INVERT YOUR RIB CAGE!!!”
The two fell out of sight, fighting together on the ground. I shifted an eye to Vekna, my tail raised in questioning. She flicked back her ears, signaling she was just as surprised at this as I was. “I-uh,” she coughed and reached into her belt pack. From it, she procured a set of cuffs, just like she said she had at the very beginning of this entire pursuit. Oh, how time flies. “I’m gonna secure Malcos’ arms, don’t want him to try anything funny.”
Yeah, that’s probably for the best. As she worked on ensuring our target wouldn’t make another grand escape, the sounds of fighting escalated in the background. It was good to see that not every Exterminator was on Malcos’s loyalty, but that revelation still had thrown me off balance in surprise. The screen shifted as the camera was picked up. The High Magister looked at me in shock as he sat back in his chair, his jaw hanging agape. Hopefully he shares that Exterminator’s predisposition. “Did you hear me, Yevin?”
To my relief, the High Magister chuckled in his seat as the Exterminators fought behind him, the weary sort that only those who had lived under duress for some time could produce. "I...hahah, finally. Finally, he's down! Thank you, thank you both. You don't know how long I've been living under the eye of his cronies. I can now get out from under that predator's paw at last!” His tail was wagging behind him as one of the Exterminators stood from the brawl, their pants revealing them as the same one that had rebelled against his Malcos-paid comrade. Looks like we’ve truly won the paw after all! “Y-Yes, give me just a moment! I'll call in a Code Zero right n-"
Before he could get the words out, though, the feed froze. I thought for a moment that the connection might have dropped somehow, but those fears were replaced by dread when I saw the emergency broadcast symbol on my screen. The last time something of the sort had happened was when the Humans first arrived around Venlil Prime, but given how eager the heads were to leave before today?
...I doubt this one will bring as welcome a change of pace.

{FINALLY!!}

{...I hate being right sometimes.}
[First]-[Prev]-[Next]

https://www.grapstimely.com/
Over on Discord and here on reddit I create a scheduled list for each month with all the major shows happening; PLEs, PPVs, Mystery Shows, Tournament Finals, etc.
However, not everyone uses reddit or discord and my reach is limited, so I made an entire website which can also better store more information. There are already multiple wrestling schedules/calendars out there, but most of them are North America-centric with an added touch of NJPW. I'm casting a very large net to capture everything.
This is currently a beta site as I'll be looking to improve usability and design. I'm not a website developer at all. Would be nice if anyone wants to volunteer to assist.
The Graps Timely is foremost the calendar to help wrestling fans see how much is happening everywhere and ways they can maybe reach out to something new. I also plan to have an articles section because I like to write about wrestling and want somewhere else besides reddit to post things. I'll have other contributors as well. Graps Timely is also the digital imprint of my comics publishing company Luci & Nanci which itself isn't off the ground yet, but we're getting there!
Please feel free to use my website as a quick reference, and you can also add the information to your own google calendars!

https://www.grapstimely.com/
Over on Discord and here on reddit I create a scheduled list for each month with all the major shows happening; PLEs, PPVs, Mystery Shows, Tournament Finals, etc.
However, not everyone uses reddit or discord and my reach is limited, so I made an entire website which can also better store more information. There are already multiple wrestling schedules/calendars out there, but most of them are North America-centric with an added touch of NJPW. I'm casting a very large net to capture everything.
This is currently a beta site as I'll be looking to improve usability and design. I'm not a website developer at all. Would be nice if anyone wants to volunteer to assist.
The Graps Timely is foremost the calendar to help wrestling fans see how much is happening everywhere and ways they can maybe reach out to something new. I also plan to have an articles section because I like to write about wrestling and want somewhere else besides reddit to post things. I'll have other contributors as well. Graps Timely is also the digital imprint of my comics publishing company Luci & Nanci which itself isn't off the ground yet, but we're getting there!
Please feel free to use my website as a quick reference, and you can also add the information to your own google calendars!

https://www.grapstimely.com/
Over on Discord and here on reddit I create a scheduled list for each month with all the major shows happening; PLEs, PPVs, Mystery Shows, Tournament Finals, etc.
However, not everyone uses reddit or discord and my reach is limited, so I made an entire website which can also better store more information. There are already multiple wrestling schedules/calendars out there, but most of them are North America-centric with an added touch of NJPW. I'm casting a very large net to capture everything.
This is currently a beta site as I'll be looking to improve usability and design. I'm not a website developer at all. Would be nice if anyone wants to volunteer to assist.
The Graps Timely is foremost the calendar to help wrestling fans see how much is happening everywhere and ways they can maybe reach out to something new. I also plan to have an articles section because I like to write about wrestling and want somewhere else besides reddit to post things. I'll have other contributors as well. Graps Timely is also the digital imprint of my comics publishing company Luci & Nanci which itself isn't off the ground yet, but we're getting there!
Please feel free to use my website as a quick reference, and you can also add the information to your own google calendars!

Years ago, the Australian Jewel Beetle, native to the outback of that grand continent, nearly went extinct.
The beetle had evolved to identify the optimal female mate using just three variables: Size, color, texture.
Evolution is efficient in that way, so why bother with any more details? Relying on mate selection using those three qualities was plenty to ensure the survival of the species!
All the beetle needed to know about Ms. Jewel Beetle was that she was big, brown, with a dotted texture. If those conditions were fulfilled, Mr. Beetle had a winner, and little beetle babies would result!
The Jewel Beetle's Equivalent of Ubiquitous High-speed Internet Porn
Then something new entered the environment of the Jewel Beetle: It was big, brown, and dotted.
In fact, it was a lot bigger than any female Jewel Beetle, and it looked a lot juicier to the simple, hyper-efficient selection systems of the male Jewel Beetle: Not a nuanced system, but a pruned down, highly cost-effective one.
This Aussie beer bottle would regularly end up on the barren soils desert soils when truckers and other desert-traversing humans threw them out the windows of their vehicles.
And so the male Jewel Beetles forgot all about the female beetles, and opted for the - to them - hot looking, but of course utterly infertile glass objects now littering their environments. The result was that the species came close to extinction.
I picked up this story from cognitive psychologist Donald Hoffman, and he calls it: "A classic case of the husband leaving the wife for the bottle!"
Eventually that type of bottle was banned, and the species was saved.
Young Men Aren't Having Sex
Now look at us: 27% of males under 30 reported no sexual partners after age 18 (2018 numbers). Something happened around 2008. Smartphones? Tube-sites? Well there's certainly a correlation!
A 2020 study from Indiana University shows 1/3 men aged 18-24 aren't having sex at all: https://news.iu.edu/live/news/26924-nearly-1-in-3-young-men-in-the-us-report-having-no
Is that because all the women are opting to become Only Fans models or wait for a local Andrew Tate to invite them to his yacht or pick them up in his Masuraadi (fancy coo'urr, of course)? Well maybe. Probably not quite, though.
High-speed Internet Porn (and Other Hyper-stimuli) is the Human Equivalent of the Dotted Brown Bottle
When we PMO with high-speed internet porn, our basic brain structures are convinced we're banging the hottest babe in the primordial forest, when in fact we're trying to impregnate an LED screen.
We're doing that rather than all the things it takes to become an attractive mate, and then find an actual partner.
We're failing evolutionarily and individually because of combination of factors: A lot of males isolating and failing to develop in various ways conducive to peer-bonding, sensuality, relationships with women, and of course sex on one hand, and probably also because of hypergamy and accepted polygamy for women as well high-status men.
The nexus of causality here is of course a lot more complex than that, but the fact remains: Something's up, we're failing, and everyone's losing - men and women - and the human species as a whole.
Negative consequences and suffering abounds: Mental health issues are through the roof, drug use along with it.
Populations are on the road to collapse.
...and no one here needs to be told how painful it is to be stuck in PMO addiction!
Are Our Massive Brains Helping Us?
Unlike the Jewel Beetle, primates have big neo cortices - humans have bigger ones than any other - and we have language, math, and science, and whatnot. We can make statistical analysis and do studies and have discussions about what's going on with men; young, older, and old alike.
Jimmy Carr, hilarious as always, lays out some of the trouble many of us are facing particularly younger men in this episode of "Diary of a CEO" with Steven Bartlett: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHLAazKUU68
I was mid-twenties when tube sites became a thing, and I was NOT impervious to the allure of constant, free, high-speed internet porn. I'm very happy I grew up on moldy playboys hidden in a box behind a shed, though!
Sometimes I say it like this: If I had spent as much time meditating as I've spent jerking off, smoking weed, and playing Black Ops, I'd be a damn Buddha by now! I'd probably be a BTC millionaire, too... and probably died of a cocaine overdose in 2016 on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean, but I digress.
In any case, we have a lot of human suffering and possible an existential threat to the species (certainly to our individual genetics/bloodlines!) resulting from the ubiquitous presence and consumption of the supra-normal stimuli that is high-speed internet porn: It's our human version of the dotted, juicy, big ass, brown beer bottle!
Can We Become Smarter Than Jewel Beetles?
So what are we going to do? Well, I would suggest we deal with our addictions and try our very best to become constructive, compassionate, powerful presences in the world. You know: MEN.
Well, a "real man" is of course many things, but there's also many things he's probably not. There's a reason why "wanker" is a prime derogatory label in British English.
Most of us are pouring so much time, energy, and money into things that are faux-versions of the real thing: Gaming, SoMe, and of course porn and Only Fans... all designed to trick our brains into thinking we're using our time/resources wisely and productively, when in fact we're pouring it down the drain!
Who wants that? I don't. Not for me and not for others, either.
Porn Hub and Aylo Inc. (formerly MindGeek) are just fine with it though.
There's a reason Instagram, Facebook, Google and other companies employ scores of neurologists and psychologists to help them "increase engagement," which is a nice way of saying, "making it more addictive."
In that way, they have more than a few things in common with the tobacco and the fast-food industry: They're not trying to kill their customers, but they don't care if they die, really. It's all bottom line.
I'd prefer not to be a casualty.
Sharp Weapons for the Battle(s) of the Ages
In order to resist and take back power, we need to become Jedi warriors of sorts: Our lower brain structures are very powerful, and as many of us have experienced over and over again, they often wrestle control from our higher executive, planning, reasoning, hoping, dreaming brain.
We have to empower our higher mind, maybe our higher selves, if we want to attain real freedom from porn, other arousal/process addictions, substance addictions, behavioral addictions, and so many other compulsive behaviors dragging us towards one after another seemingly salient and satisfactory, but ultimately destructive behavior.
Tools for Change: Strong Motivation Comes First
I've had to deal with PMO as well as other addictions, and it remains a work in progress: Porn/sex addiction easily bleeds over into substance addiction!
Like many people I see commenting and posting in here, I once thought I needed to use willpower alone, and if I just did that and went to the gym and got the job and did this and that, then I'd get on my way and be done with it.
For some that works, but those are generally outlier cases: For most addictions and most people who get stuck in them, relapses happen. We need to deal constructively with those.
We also need to learn coping mechanisms and how to deal with thoughts, feelings, and behaviors without our drug or behavior of choice, in this case porn and compulsive masturbation.
It's the same for former users crack cocaine... except, ex-cocaine addicted people aren't forced to carry around rock, pipe, and lighter in their pocket, ready to go at any moment. With PMO though? Well, can you live without a smart phone? A computer? Not easy.
Self-management and Addiction Recovery
If we're going to deal with an addiction, it's wise to learn from the vast research available on the topic, and the massive experience of professionals in the field as well as those who have worked through their addictions.
Disclaimer: I'm only affiliated with SMART (Self-Management and Addiction Recovery Training) as a participant. They don't sell anything, nor do I. I'm bringing it up because it's a comprehensive system of proven, evidence-based methods with broad application and wide acceptance among institutional actors and professionals working with addiction.
I'm not promoting SMART as an organization*, but simply the universal tools of cognitive behavioral therapy/psychology, that they have put into a system directed at addiction recovery. It's built and formulated by very seasoned and experienced professionals in the addiction recovery field. No reason to reinvent the wheel. The tools are there.*
It's very constructive, concise, evidence-based, and places responsibility where it belongs: On my on shoulders and nowhere else. It's devoid of fluff, irrationality, and anecdotes as a basis for its methods and approaches.
There are other, rational and evidence-based programs with sets of methods for dealing with addictions, but this is the one I've used and can vouch for. It helped me save my life. It's well-studied, too, and it works for all kinds of addictive behaviors.
It consists of four points, each of which is associated with various proven psychological tools and practices:
Point 1: Building and Maintaining Motivation
The tools here are simple but very important and powerful. You won't be going somewhere unless you WANT to go there... and if you want to go somewhere else even more, well, then THAT's where you're going in all likelihood:
So how do we make sure we want to go on to living real life MORE than we want to spend our time jerking off to porn, binging Netflix, excessively gaming or doom scrolling or substituting another addiction for the one we're currently stuck in?
We need motivation.
"ARrrrGh this is killing me and I have PIED/my liver is failing/I'm gambling away all my money. I MUST STOP!!! I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! I HATE MYSELF! GRR!" isn't so much motivation as it's fear, admonition, and doom and gloom. It doesn't make it easier to quit drinking/junking/PMOing/gambling etc.
Not to say we don't need to mobilize willpower and understand consequences, or that anger cannot be transmuted and transformed, and put to good use.
But if we're actually serious about quitting and understand that it would be a very good idea to do so, we should also be serious about how we go about doing that.
Willpower and white-knuckling alone is almost always a recipe for an endless downward spiral of relapses, increasing frustration, and wasted years.
Bad idea. No one knows how much time they have left in this body, but we do know, that every minute that passes, is one minute closer to our final hour: Nothing's of greater value than your time!
From Motivational Enhancement Therapy (MET) SMART has adopted and adapted two effective tools:
The Hierarchy of Values (HoV)
Rather than thinking too much about what we don't want, maybe it's time to ask, "what do I want? What's important to me in life? What are my priorities?"
That's what the HoV is: It's your list of what's important. It could look like this:

1. Health
2. Family
3. The dog
4. Money
5. Job/education
6. A future relationship (if you're in one now, you might want to put it on top of the list in case your wife/girlfriend sees it!)

It has to be your own list, and it should be prioritized, too. It's also something that will probably change over time. Could be "recovery from PMO addiction" should go first for a while.
Just write it down. Then ask yourself: Where does my addiction fit on that list? Is it interfering with the other things on the list? How much and how often is that the case?
Well, realistically then... where am I putting it on the list if it's wreaking havoc with all the other things I claim to be important to me? It's a sobering question to ask and answer.
https://smartrecovery.org/hierarchy-of-values
The Cost-Benefit Analysis (CBA)
The next, powerful tool for motivation in SMART, also from MET (and the business world), is the CBA.
You don't just want it to be pros and cons of quitting and using. That's too imprecise.
Take a piece of paper and divide it into four squares with a big +.
First, top left square, list all the costs of using your drug/behavior of choice, in this case PMO: All of it, from PIED to time wasted to all the entourage effects of awkwardness, guilt, shame, isolation, bad skin, money spent on Only Fans, all of it!
Then in the top right square, list all the benefits. Be honest. We don't do anything unless we get something out of it. Relaxation, feeling of companionship in the case of chatting with random horny people online, some type of release, pure pleasure, whatever it is.
Great: Now go through each item and assign the labels LT for long-term, and ST for short term. Then read the CBA of using PMO again: What benefits are LT? What costs are ST?
Next, you repeat the exercise, but for abstaining from PMO:
Costs: No easy fix, boredom, uncertainty about what to spend that time on, maybe the complexity of having to figure out more demanding forms of finding satisfaction, having to feel emotions previously veiled under or escaped from using PMO.
Benefits: A dick that works, feeling good about ourselves, becoming a more attractive mate, more testosterone maybe, better skin, more time, more money, and all the other good stuff we can think of.
Again, assign the labels LT and ST to each item, and re-read the list.
Try it. Trust me.
https://smartrecovery.org/cost-benefit-analysis
The Next 3 Points: Coping with 2) Urges, Thoughts, 3) Feelings & Behaviors, and 4) Living a Balanced Life
Now when we solidified motivation, we need strategies for coping with urges (point 2), and we're going to learn ways to deal with thoughts, feelings and behaviors (point 3), and quite quickly, we're probably going to benefit from becoming better at figuring out what living a balanced life (point 4), full of good stuff, means to us.
Tools for coping with urges are techniques like: DISARM, DEADS, DIBS, Playing the Tape Forward, Urge Surfing, Urge/trigger Logs, ABC(DE), and more. These tools are valuable for other purposes, too, including managing thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in general.
It's important to note that SMART doesn't have "steps;" it has points.
Of course motivation has to come first, and of course coping with urges is probably more important in the beginning than later on, but all the four points go together throughout the process of recovery.
The tools for coping with urges and dealing with thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, are based on principles and methods from Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT) developed by Dr. Albert Ellis and from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), both tried and tested approaches for dealing with all kinds of issues common to most of humankind.
The cool thing about having to deal with an addiction, and doing so using skillful means like the ones SMART Recovery lays out, is that these tools are good for many other aspects of life, too.
You learn to be less reactive, to notice your irrational beliefs and dispute them, to motivate yourself for whatever purpose, to communicate better with others, and of course, in the many peer-meetings available, you find out (face-to-face, if you want to), that you or your addictive behavior isn't really that abhorrent or abnormal:
I would give my right arm to have learned some of these things when I was 15 or 20, rather than in my late 30's.
Check out https://smartrecovery.org/ for an overview of the program and a list of meetings.
Cognition, Perception, and the Story of the Giant Jewel Beetle
I picked up the story of the Jewel Beetle from cognitive psychologist Donald Hoffman, who's done very interesting work on cognition and perception: It turns out we DON'T see reality as it is, because if we did, we'd never get anything done!
We can look at our perceptive systems and model of the world like the graphical user interface (GUI) of a computer: It's there so you can use the complex, underlying reality of the device in order to send text messages, go on youtube, and do various more or less useful stuff using what is an extremely complex device.
If we had to deal with the underlying reality of the electronics or low-level coding of the OS, he'd never get anything done! (Hoffman's metaphor)
Check it out here: https://www.ted.com/talks/donald_hoffman_do_we_see_reality_as_it_is

Years ago, the Australian Jewel Beetle, native to the outback of that grand continent, nearly went extinct.
The beetle had evolved to identify the optimal female mate using just three variables: Size, color, texture.
Evolution is efficient in that way, so why bother with any more details? Relying on mate selection using those three qualities was plenty to ensure the survival of the species!
All the beetle needed to know about Ms. Jewel Beetle was that she was big, brown, with a dotted texture. If those conditions were fulfilled, Mr. Beetle had a winner, and little beetle babies would result!
The Jewel Beetle's Equivalent of Ubiquitous High-speed Internet Porn
Then something new entered the environment of the Jewel Beetle: It was big, brown, and dotted.
In fact, it was a lot bigger than any female Jewel Beetle, and it looked a lot juicier to the simple, hyper-efficient selection systems of the male Jewel Beetle: Not a nuanced system, but a pruned down, highly cost-effective one.
This Aussie beer bottle would regularly end up on the barren soils desert soils when truckers and other desert-traversing humans threw them out the windows of their vehicles.
And so the male Jewel Beetles forgot all about the female beetles, and opted for the - to them - hot looking, but of course utterly infertile glass objects now littering their environments. The result was that the species came close to extinction.
Just look at this guy: https://media.npr.org/assets/img/2013/06/19/beetle-bottle-21-b9f4a9b4cecaa058e60fe7c57433b442825253dc.jpg - Does he remind you of anything or anyone?
I picked up this story from cognitive psychologist Donald Hoffman, and he calls it: "A classic case of the husband leaving the wife for the bottle!"
Eventually that type of bottle was banned, and the species was saved.
Young Men Aren't Having Sex
Now look at us: 27% of males under 30 reported no sexual partners after age 18 (2018 numbers). Something happened around 2008. Smartphones? Tube-sites? Well there's certainly a correlation!
A 2020 study from Indiana University shows 1/3 men aged 18-24 aren't having sex at all: https://news.iu.edu/live/news/26924-nearly-1-in-3-young-men-in-the-us-report-having-no
Is that because all the women are opting to become Only Fans models or wait for a local Andrew Tate to invite them to his yacht or pick them up in his Masuraadi (fancy coo'urr, of course)? Well maybe. Probably not quite, though.
High-speed Internet Porn (and Other Hyper-stimuli) is the Human Equivalent of the Dotted Brown Bottle
When we PMO with high-speed internet porn, our basic brain structures are convinced we're banging the hottest babe in the primordial forest, when in fact we're trying to impregnate an LED screen.
We're doing that rather than all the things it takes to become an attractive mate, and then find an actual partner.
We're failing evolutionarily and individually because of combination of factors: A lot of males isolating and failing to develop in various ways conducive to peer-bonding, sensuality, relationships with women, and of course sex on one hand, and probably also because of hypergamy and accepted polygamy for women as well high-status men.
The nexus of causality here is of course a lot more complex than that, but the fact remains: Something's up, we're failing, and everyone's losing - men and women - and the human species as a whole.
Negative consequences and suffering abounds: Mental health issues are through the roof, drug use along with it.
Populations are on the road to collapse.
...and no one here needs to be told how painful it is to be stuck in PMO addiction!
Are Our Massive Brains Helping Us?
Unlike the Jewel Beetle, primates have big neo cortices - humans have bigger ones than any other - and we have language, math, and science, and whatnot. We can make statistical analysis and do studies and have discussions about what's going on with men; young, older, and old alike.
Jimmy Carr, hilarious as always, lays out some of the trouble many of us are facing particularly younger men in this episode of "Diary of a CEO" with Steven Bartlett: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHLAazKUU68
I was mid-twenties when tube sites became a thing, and I was NOT impervious to the allure of constant, free, high-speed internet porn. I'm very happy I grew up on moldy playboys hidden in a box behind a shed, though!
Sometimes I say it like this: If I had spent as much time meditating as I've spent jerking off, smoking weed, and playing Black Ops, I'd be a damn Buddha by now! I'd probably be a BTC millionaire, too... and probably died of a cocaine overdose in 2016 on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean, but I digress.
In any case, we have a lot of human suffering and possible an existential threat to the species (certainly to our individual genetics/bloodlines!) resulting from the ubiquitous presence and consumption of the supra-normal stimuli that is high-speed internet porn: It's our human version of the dotted, juicy, big ass, brown beer bottle!
Can We Become Smarter Than Jewel Beetles?
So what are we going to do? Well, I would suggest we deal with our addictions and try our very best to become constructive, compassionate, powerful presences in the world. You know: MEN.
Well, a "real man" is of course many things, but there's also many things he's probably not. There's a reason why "wanker" is a prime derogatory label in British English.
Most of us are pouring so much time, energy, and money into things that are faux-versions of the real thing: Gaming, SoMe, and of course porn and Only Fans... all designed to trick our brains into thinking we're using our time/resources wisely and productively, when in fact we're pouring it down the drain!
Who wants that? I don't. Not for me and not for others, either.
Porn Hub and Aylo Inc. (formerly MindGeek) are just fine with it though.
There's a reason Instagram, Facebook, Google and other companies employ scores of neurologists and psychologists to help them "increase engagement," which is a nice way of saying, "making it more addictive."
In that way, they have more than a few things in common with the tobacco and the fast-food industry: They're not trying to kill their customers, but they don't care if they die, really. It's all bottom line.
I'd prefer not to be a casualty.
Sharp Weapons for the Battle(s) of the Ages
In order to resist and take back power, we need to become Jedi warriors of sorts: Our lower brain structures are very powerful, and as many of us have experienced over and over again, they often wrestle control from our higher executive, planning, reasoning, hoping, dreaming brain.
We have to empower our higher mind, maybe our higher selves, if we want to attain real freedom from porn, other arousal/process addictions, substance addictions, behavioral addictions, and so many other compulsive behaviors dragging us towards one after another seemingly salient and satisfactory, but ultimately destructive behavior.
Tools for Change: Strong Motivation Comes First
I've had to deal with PMO as well as other addictions, and it remains a work in progress: Porn/sex addiction easily bleeds over into substance addiction!
Like many people I see commenting and posting in here, I once thought I needed to use willpower alone, and if I just did that and went to the gym and got the job and did this and that, then I'd get on my way and be done with it.
For some that works, but those are generally outlier cases: For most addictions and most people who get stuck in them, relapses happen. We need to deal constructively with those.
We also need to learn coping mechanisms and how to deal with thoughts, feelings, and behaviors without our drug or behavior of choice, in this case porn and compulsive masturbation.
It's the same for former users crack cocaine... except, ex-cocaine addicted people aren't forced to carry around rock, pipe, and lighter in their pocket, ready to go at any moment. With PMO though? Well, can you live without a smart phone? A computer? Not easy.
Self-management and Addiction Recovery
If we're going to deal with an addiction, it's wise to learn from the vast research available on the topic, and the massive experience of professionals in the field as well as those who have worked through their addictions.
Disclaimer: I'm only affiliated with SMART (Self-Management and Addiction Recovery Training) as a participant. They don't sell anything, nor do I. I'm bringing it up because it's a comprehensive system of proven, evidence-based methods with broad application and wide acceptance among institutional actors and professionals working with addiction.
I'm not promoting SMART as an organization, but simply the universal tools of cognitive behavioral therapy/psychology, that they have put into a system directed at addiction recovery. It's built and formulated by very seasoned and experienced professionals in the addiction recovery field. No reason to reinvent the wheel. The tools are there.
It's very constructive, concise, evidence-based, and places responsibility where it belongs: On my on shoulders and nowhere else. It's devoid of fluff, irrationality, and anecdotes as a basis for its methods and approaches.
There are other, rational and evidence-based programs with sets of methods for dealing with addictions, but this is the one I've used and can vouch for. It helped me save my life. It's well-studied, too, and it works for all kinds of addictive behaviors.
It consists of four points, each of which is associated with various proven psychological tools and practices:
Point 1: Building and Maintaining Motivation
The tools here are simple but very important and powerful. You won't be going somewhere unless you WANT to go there... and if you want to go somewhere else even more, well, then THAT's where you're going in all likelihood:
So how do we make sure we want to go on to living real life MORE than we want to spend our time jerking off to porn, binging Netflix, excessively gaming or doom scrolling or substituting another addiction for the one we're currently stuck in?
We need motivation.
"ARrrrGh this is killing me and I have PIED/my liver is failing/I'm gambling away all my money. I MUST STOP!!! I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! I HATE MYSELF! GRR!" isn't so much motivation as it's fear, admonition, and doom and gloom. It doesn't make it easier to quit drinking/junking/PMOing/gambling etc.
Not to say we don't need to mobilize willpower and understand consequences, or that anger cannot be transmuted and transformed, and put to good use.
But if we're actually serious about quitting and understand that it would be a very good idea to do so, we should also be serious about how we go about doing that.
Willpower and white-knuckling alone is almost always a recipe for an endless downward spiral of relapses, increasing frustration, and wasted years.
Bad idea. No one knows how much time they have left in this body, but we do know, that every minute that passes, is one minute closer to our final hour: Nothing's of greater value than your time!
From Motivational Enhancement Therapy (MET) SMART has adopted and adapted two effective tools:
The Hierarchy of Values (HoV)
Rather than thinking too much about what we don't want, maybe it's time to ask, "what do I want? What's important to me in life? What are my priorities?"
That's what the HoV is: It's your list of what's important. It could look like this:

1. Health
   
2. Family
   
3. The dog
   
4. Money
   
5. Job/education
   
6. A future relationship (if you're in one now, you might want to put it on top of the list in case your wife/girlfriend sees it!)
   

It has to be your own list, and it should be prioritized, too. It's also something that will probably change over time. Could be "recovery from PMO addiction" should go first for a while.
Just write it down. Then ask yourself: Where does my addiction fit on that list? Is it interfering with the other things on the list? How much and how often is that the case?
Well, realistically then... where am I putting it on the list if it's wreaking havoc with all the other things I claim to be important to me? It's a sobering question to ask and answer.
https://smartrecovery.org/hierarchy-of-values
The Cost-Benefit Analysis (CBA)
The next, powerful tool for motivation in SMART, also from MET (and the business world), is the CBA.
You don't just want it to be pros and cons of quitting and using. That's too imprecise.
Take a piece of paper and divide it into four squares with a big +.
First, top left square, list all the costs of using your drug/behavior of choice, in this case PMO: All of it, from PIED to time wasted to all the entourage effects of awkwardness, guilt, shame, isolation, bad skin, money spent on Only Fans, all of it!
Then in the top right square, list all the benefits. Be honest. We don't do anything unless we get something out of it. Relaxation, feeling of companionship in the case of chatting with random horny people online, some type of release, pure pleasure, whatever it is.
Great: Now go through each item and assign the labels LT for long-term, and ST for short term. Then read the CBA of using PMO again: What benefits are LT? What costs are ST?
Next, you repeat the exercise, but for abstaining from PMO:
Costs: No easy fix, boredom, uncertainty about what to spend that time on, maybe the complexity of having to figure out more demanding forms of finding satisfaction, having to feel emotions previously veiled under or escaped from using PMO.
Benefits: A dick that works, feeling good about ourselves, becoming a more attractive mate, more testosterone maybe, better skin, more time, more money, and all the other good stuff we can think of.
Again, assign the labels LT and ST to each item, and re-read the list.
Try it. Trust me.
https://smartrecovery.org/cost-benefit-analysis
The Next 3 Points: Coping with 2) Urges, Thoughts, 3) Feelings & Behaviors, and 4) Living a Balanced Life
Now when we solidified motivation, we need strategies for coping with urges (point 2), and we're going to learn ways to deal with thoughts, feelings and behaviors (point 3), and quite quickly, we're probably going to benefit from becoming better at figuring out what living a balanced life (point 4), full of good stuff, means to us.
Tools for coping with urges are techniques like: DISARM, DEADS, DIBS, Playing the Tape Forward, Urge Surfing, Urge/trigger Logs, ABC(DE), and more. These tools are valuable for other purposes, too, including managing thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in general.
It's important to note that SMART doesn't have "steps;" it has points.
Of course motivation has to come first, and of course coping with urges is probably more important in the beginning than later on, but all the four points go together throughout the process of recovery.
The tools for coping with urges and dealing with thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, are based on principles and methods from Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT) developed by Dr. Albert Ellis and from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), both tried and tested approaches for dealing with all kinds of issues common to most of humankind.
The cool thing about having to deal with an addiction, and doing so using skillful means like the ones SMART Recovery lays out, is that these tools are good for many other aspects of life, too.
You learn to be less reactive, to notice your irrational beliefs and dispute them, to motivate yourself for whatever purpose, to communicate better with others, and of course, in the many peer-meetings available, you find out (face-to-face, if you want to), that you or your addictive behavior isn't really that abhorrent or abnormal:
I would give my right arm to have learned some of these things when I was 15 or 20, rather than in my late 30's.
Check out https://smartrecovery.org/ for an overview of the program and a list of meetings.
Cognition, Perception, and the Story of the Giant Jewel Beetle
I picked up the story of the Jewel Beetle from cognitive psychologist Donald Hoffman, who's done very interesting work on cognition and perception: It turns out we DON'T see reality as it is, because if we did, we'd never get anything done!
We can look at our perceptive systems and model of the world like the graphical user interface (GUI) of a computer: It's there so you can use the complex, underlying reality of the device in order to send text messages, go on youtube, and do various more or less useful stuff using what is an extremely complex device.
If we had to deal with the underlying reality of the electronics or low-level coding of the OS, he'd never get anything done! (Hoffman's metaphor)
Check it out here: https://www.ted.com/talks/donald_hoffman_do_we_see_reality_as_it_is

What is this?

This is a weekly crowdfunding roundup of new projects launched last week and projects that end the coming week.

Google Docs

As an alternative format, the lists are now also available as a Google Docs found here: Weekly Crowdfunding Roundup

Updates

Expect new lists every Sunday between 00:00 and 23:59 CEST on the following platforms:
Mastodon: @danielpervan@mastodon.social
Discord: https://discord.gg/dN4P4PZcU9
Reddit: /boardgames

Selection criteria

The criteria for the lists are as follows:

Ending soon

• Sorted by number of backers
  
• Kickstarter projects ending in the next 7 days, that have at least 100 backers (or marked as "Project we love" by Kickstarter), will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and passed the filters:
  
  • No DnD books
  • No zines
  • No 3D printing
  • No dice sets
  • No magazines
  • No shirts
  • No playmats
  • No furniture
  • No events
• Gamefound projects ending in the next 7 days, that will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and passed the above filters.
  
• (beta) Backerkit Crowdfunding projects ending in the next 7 days, that will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and have a matching BGG page.
  

Newly launched

• Sorted by number of backers
  
• Kickstarter projects launched in the last 7 days, that have had at least average 15 backers per day, have at least 100 backers or is marked as "Project we love" by Kickstarter and passed the filters (see above).
  
• Gamefound projects launched in the last 7 days and passed the filters (see above).
  
• (beta) Backerkit Crowdfunding projects launched in the last 7 days and have a matching BGG page.
  

Notable filtered projects

• Filtered projects from above lists that have more than 1000 backers.

Tags

🎉: Staff pick/featured
💰: Funded
🔥: More than average 200 backers/day
🌱: Creator's first project
🌳: Creator's >5th project
🔄: Money back guarantee (Read more)

FAQ

I live in Guatemala/Canada/Costa Rica/USA, why are you posting on a Saturday?!
Because I'm writing this from Europe in the future where it's already Sunday. Timezones be crazy.
Why are there a bunch of non-board games in the board game list?
Because the Tabletop games category on Kickstarter includes anything remotely related to board games and sometimes things slip through my filters.
Why is this future award winning board game and literal saviour of humanity missing from your list?
Sometimes my filters get a bit overzealous and discard actually valid projects. If you feel something is missing for this reason, leave a comment and I'll add it (maybe).
Can I donate all my money to you?
No
Can you help me promote my game?
Please no. I make lists. Nothing more.
Your list is full of errors and now Chrome is eating all my RAM!
Indeed, this fine piece of code runs purely on second-tier magic, so anything can happen. Leave a comment and I'll see what I can do.

Ending soon (13)

Name	Description	Backers	Pledged	Ends	Information	Tags	BGG
Earth: Abundance Expansion	Enhance the rich gameplay of the award-winning board game Earth with new player interactions and opportunities to curate your hand.	11534	CA$1,145,041.00 (4018%) in 13 days	2024-05-08	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🔥🌳
Bloomchasers: Delightful 3D Tree Game of Flowers and Wits	30-min light strategy game for adults! Grow your flowers and outwit opponents on a stunning 3D tree, either as a team or competitively	5112	$234,968.00 (2350%) in 25 days	2024-05-11	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑6 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 20-45 min.	🎉💰🔥🌳	BGG
GAMELIB POCKET: a real boardgame library in your pocket!	PAY WHAT YOU WANT and receive GAMELIB POCKET! Every week, for a full year, get a new game rule compatible with its components! 🤩	1986	€23,800.00 (793%) in 19 days	2024-05-09	💸 Kickstarter	💰🌳
KeyForge: Æmber Skies	The strange domain of the Skyrealm is the focus of KeyForge: Æmber Skies, the eighth KeyForge set. Keep your eyes peeled toward the sky this April '24, for that is when the launch of the Gamefound campaign for KeyForge: Æmber Skies will set high sail.	1289	$353,329.96 (707%) in 17 days	2024-05-07	💸 Gamefound 👥 2 players ⏱️ 30 min. Card Game Deck Building	💰
Cyber Pet Quest | A Thrilling Solo/Co-op Campaign Board Game	Guide cybernetic pets on a mission to rescue their missing owner in this riveting solo/cooperative adventure game for 1-4 players!	690	$37,831.00 (378%) in 19 days	2024-05-10	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 30-45 min.	🎉💰🌳	BGG
Money Maker: The Goldsmiths Tale | Build your Banking Empire	What if… you could print your own money? 💰 Build your Money Empire. Screw over your friends. Create the most profitable bank! 🏦	519	€26,663.00 (267%) in 26 days	2024-05-09	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🌱
Snowcrest	Discover ancient knowledge and appease mystical beasts to bring peace to your village.	432	A$26,044.69 (347%) in 19 days	2024-05-07	💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 15-60 min. Card Game	💰🌱	BGG
Hexopolis: A Geometric Landscape of Possibilities	Build walls. Find the right path. Expand your territory.	233	$18,036.00 (361%) in 26 days	2024-05-09	💸 Kickstarter	💰🌱
SIMULATOR SOCCER | The Freedom of hand-controlled Soccer	Over 100 players | 2-minute setup | Score goals, Control your entire Team, and outsmart your Rivals strategically!	147	€8,567.00 (343%) in 26 days	2024-05-09	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🌱
New Kingdom: Sowers	A strategic card game for 1-2 players inspired by the Parable of the Sower, designed by Scott Kabel, illustrated by Melissa Murakami.	140	$3,933.00 (164%) in 12 days	2024-05-11	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑2 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 15-30 min.	💰	BGG
Smacked Down 1st Edition	A miniature agnostic 1v1 tabletop skirmish game set in the world of independent professional wrestling.	127	$3,067.00 (383%) in 27 days	2024-05-09	💸 Kickstarter	💰🌱
Crisis in Korea	2 mini boardgames that look at conflict in near-future North Korea: Loose Nukes and Korean Theater of Operations Crisis	115	$3,530.00 (706%) in 19 days	2024-05-06	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30 min.	💰🌳	BGG
Alimentarya	Print and Play board game full of unique characters, simple and fun mechanics and a magical fantasy atmosphere.	112	MX$9,801.00 (653%) in 37 days	2024-05-11	💸 Kickstarter	💰🌱

New this week (38)

Name	Description	Backers	Pledged	Ends	Information	Tags	BGG
Canvas Big Box	Chest of drawers to store Canvas and all its expansions + New Cards + Canvas reprint	6101	$379,987.00 (1267%) in 5 days	2024-05-29	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🔥🌳
Enemies and Lovers: The Crown of Elfhame	Based on The Cruel Prince series, a fast-paced, lushly illustrated card game of strategy, deception, and betrayal for 2-4 players.	3745	$302,320.00 (504%) in 4 days	2024-05-31	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 13+ ⏱️ 15-40 min.	🎉💰🔥🌱	BGG
Fractured Sky: Rift	A kickstarter-exclusive reprint and expansion campaign for Fractured Sky. Painted minis, magnets, and more 🚀	3300	$237,007.00 (474%) in 5 days	2024-05-16	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑5 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 45-75 min.	💰🔥🌳	BGG
Euthia: Cruel Frost	The highly-rated and Kickstarter exclusive fantasy board game, Euthia, returns with its chilling climax, Cruel Frost!	2805	£434,459.00 (869%) in 3 days	2024-05-16	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 60-480 min.	🎉💰🔥🌳	BGG
LA FLEUR: Extravagant Gardens in Rococo France	Host the fanciest French Rococo parties in the ultimate garden building, flower collecting and guest stealing game for 1 to 4 players.	2686	$240,414.00 (4808%) in 5 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 30-60 min.	🎉💰🔥	BGG
Wonders of The First CCG	400+ card Alpha set. Battle in 7 realms as a Stoneseeker. Get Kickstarter exclusive Stretch Box cards that will never appear again.	2308	$1,408,172.00 (5633%) in 5 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 13+ ⏱️ 20-45 min.	🎉💰🔥🌱	BGG
Dark Cities | Deluxe Editions	Five games of social deduction & light strategy for up to 9 players. Deluxe book boxes include upgraded components & mini expansions.	1830	$195,877.00 (784%) in 5 days	2024-05-23	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🔥🌳
Kinfire Council	A competitive game of strategy and politics for 2-6 players set in the Kinfire universe, designed by Kevin Wilson.	1504	$177,725.00 (444%) in 6 days	2024-05-28	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑6 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 90-120 min.	🎉💰🔥	BGG
House of Fado by Vital Lacerda & João Quintela Martins	Manage your Fado restaurant, promote musicians, and send them to the starlight in this medium-weight worker placement game.	1328	$62,062.00 (296%) in 3 days	2024-05-17	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-60 min.	💰🔥🌳	BGG
Keystone: North America 2nd Edition + Coastal Expansion	Keystone: North America is back with a stunning Second Edition and New Coastal Expansion!	930	$74,241.00 (247%) in 5 days	2024-05-28	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑2 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 30-60 min.	🎉💰	BGG
Epochs: Course of Cultures - A 4X Civ. Game Spans the Ages	From Antiquity to Modernity: Forge Your Civilization's Legendary Journey Through The Sands of Time	720	HK$741,771.00 (473%) in 6 days	2024-06-03	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 120-180 min.	💰🌳	BGG
LONG DARK SEA	Long Dark Sea is a cooperative adventure card game for 1-4 players focused on exploration and combat where deckbuilding and resource management are their main mechanics. Venture into the unknown with your pirate crew in search of ancient relics in a Sci-fi universe.	714	€97,219.44 (162%) in 5 days	2024-05-21	💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑4 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 40-60 min. Card Game Dice Game Deck Building Cooperative	💰🌱	BGG
Neon Reign	Neon Reign is a fast-paced card game that combines the excitement of arcade-style fighting games with strategic dueling!	647	$22,458.00 (150%) in 5 days	2024-05-14	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑2 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 10-15 min.	🎉💰🌳	BGG
HârnWorld: Kingdom of Kanday	Continuing a series of Hardcover editions of the Kingdoms of Hârn.	637	$55,487.00 (555%) in 6 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🌳
The Adventures of Conan	Join Conan and his allies as they battle across the Hyborian Age, where darkness plagues the land. In this asymmetrical dice game, the legendary barbarian will battle monsters sent by his foes, whilst his allies battle by his side. Can Conan ascend to become King, or will he fall to his enemies foul…	479	$103,438.81 (207%) in 5 days	2024-05-16	💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 90-120 min. Dice Game	💰	BGG
The Brothers Murph Season 8! Table Fables and Unmatched!	We are The Brothers Murph and we are raising money for Season 8 of our YouTube channel! And we're selling some awesome games to boot!	416	$20,196.00 (58%) in 4 days	2024-05-31	💸 Kickstarter
One Card Maze Season 2	Wallets, Boss Mazes for more of a challenge, Fledgling Mazes for players who need a little help, and more Exclusive Mazes!	412	CA$16,054.00 (134%) in 5 days	2024-06-01	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰🌱
Tenby	An action drafting, street building, feature matching card game for 1 - 5 players, set in the beautiful Welsh seaside town of Tenby.	360	£8,383.00 (152%) in 7 days	2024-05-28	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑5 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 30-60 min.	💰🌱	BGG
Micro Midgard	Travel the 9 realms, and become the champion that fulfils the Norn's prophecies before Ragnarok.	354	£10,820.00 (433%) in 5 days	2024-05-28	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑2 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 15-30 min.	🎉💰🌳	BGG
Formosa Tea	Experience the early years of the Taiwanese tea industry through this innovative 2-4 player worker placement board game.	339	$16,145.00 (108%) in 5 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter	🎉💰
AI 100% Human - Boardgame	Innovative drafting game with a reserve and immediate scoring, all structured around building a tableau.	307	€20,095.00 (201%) in 5 days	2024-05-24	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑6 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-45 min.	💰🌳	BGG
Long Live Backyardia!	A modular expansion for the award-nominated Trick-Taking and Mancala board game Bug Council of Backyardia!	306	¥1,544,009 (309%) in 5 days	2024-05-21	💸 Kickstarter 👥 3‑5 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 30-40 min.	💰	BGG
Franklin 1864	Refight the Battle of Spring Hill and Franklin in Hood's Tennesse Campaign in 1864. Playing time 2 hours. 1 to 2 players.	246	$21,526.00 (1155%) in 1 days	2024-05-18	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 120-180 min.	💰🔥🌳	BGG
Cosmic Chains	A tactical dueling card game of cats and robots. Build the longest satellite chain to provide the best network coverage!	233	$7,210.00 (144%) in 5 days	2024-05-26	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-40 min.	💰🌱	BGG
Falcons: The US Air Force Academy Board Game	Play as an Air Force Academy Cadet in this cheerful game based on the real academy!	215	$18,677.00 (27%) in 5 days	2024-06-01	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-60 min.		BGG
Glim	A dice game played by the fairies of a forgotten world — from the creators of 'The Blair Witch Project' and Twogether Studios.	210	$11,601.00 (47%) in 5 days	2024-06-01	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 60-90 min.	🌱	BGG
Mich in the Downgeon	Explore the Downgeon, defeat monsters, find loot and escape with the golden fishes 📝🐉🏆. A ready-to-print game.	197	MX$49,008.00 (1225%) in 5 days	2024-05-28	💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑5 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 20-40 min.	💰🌳	BGG
Napoleon's Campagne de Russie - Russian campaign	Manage Napoleon’s forces invading Western Russia, or play as the defenders of the northern nation. Both armies are yours to command!	185	MX$239,586.00 (4679%) in 4 days	2024-05-31	💸 Kickstarter	💰
Peep Spotting	Spot the Peep in this competitive "Where's Waldo" Style card game. Pay what you want for a unique set of Peeps in each copy. 🙋	132	A$1,236.00 (123600%) in 5 days	2024-05-31	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 5-15 min.	🎉💰	BGG
Der Tag - Broadside: Empires of Steel - Digital Edition	Tabletop gaming in the era of the Great War Dreadnought	116	A$12,591.00 (252%) in 6 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter	💰🌳
Full Sauna	A board game about the struggle to relax.	114	£4,225.00 (85%) in 3 days	2024-06-01	💸 Kickstarter	🎉🌱
Dreamspace: Mission to Marsylvania	Explore Marsylvania with our hunters in this dungeon crawler, competitive and thematic, 8-bit style board game set in the multiverse!	109	€4,801.00 (24%) in 5 days	2024-05-30	💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑5 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 90-120 min.	🌱	BGG
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When I imagine speaking to the youth of today – also known as the adults of tomorrow, some of whom will be titans of industry and makers of rain – I picture them
teetering on one end of a sort of lever, counterbalanced by the weight at the other end, which is produced from my memories of youth
by which I mean, me and my peers when we were young, watching American industry try to resuscitate itself, fail, make do with what was left
which consisted of an expanded service industry, riding on the metaphor of family, that paid by the hour, plus promises of better days to come
such as when the Russians invade, after which the survival skills we cultivated as members of the underclass would inform a new conception of leadership
which conception of the future was recreated through the eighties and nineties by substituting the ability to change the oil in your car and grow your own food with hedge-fund management and computer hacking
but which delirium about the future is now coming back to haunt my generation – which is now, ha-ha, a widely co-opted brand name – X – but more to the point, has added to the original complaint about American dreams unrealized with a new one about even bad dreams – dystopias, we call them – likewise ignored.
In response, we elected a member of the kleptocracy, gave him surplus capital whenever he asked for it, applied the aesthetic of pro-wrestling to big-time politics, old-time religion, real-time journalism
which modes of cultural production were made principally for me and people like me – a first-generation college student from the hinterlands who paid his own way through college by performing manual labor, all with a post-apartheid relationship to race and gender –
and thus my friends and I, youth that we were, waded through vast detention ponds of cultural runoff to know anything at all.
In between today’s youth and me is the cultural object called The Matrix – Lana and Lilly, 1999 – considered in this case as a singular experience, without the sequels.
The film came out of nowhere, sprang to life from the end of a wire, hyperreal authority so spectacularly rendered, a new kind of cinema seemed possible.
Sure, there were premonitions – Ghost in the Shell manga, William Gibson’s cyberpunk, Philip K. Dick’s exegesis.
But the Matrix is a cultural fulcrum across the generations, even though it’s aged – well? unwell? Both choices seem less important than the implied premise of The Matrix
which is that it wouldn’t age at all, just as Keanu is known not to age, and not due to some nefarious deal with you-know-who but because the film’s implied premise was emancipation from the tragic condition.
The movie depicts human evolution occurring across a single lifespan, ending in a condition of immortality, based on a biological premise of metamorphosis – larva to pupa to adult –
with most of the movie’s runtime taking place in the pupa stage, where the characters mostly stop eating and growing, focus on precipitating transformation, whatever that turns out to be – the pupas don’t really know.
The pupas say, woe is us – the reality of being a larva was a secondary ontology all along! The pupas say, we must not settle for being an energy source for something else!
The pupas say, somehow, someway, we will break free of this, this – gestures to body – this carceral construct! The movie would have known itself better had its final scene been of Keanu leaping up from a lily pad, fluttering away.
When I imagine citing The Matrix to the generation that attends classes in the bricks-and-mortar campus that surrounds me, curricula informed by expertise fully on display, something the kids pay six figures for,
I picture some great percentage of them wondering why liberation is given such high status as compared to the other ways one might use existential risk.
Why does the movie have them do it? What do they stand to gain from fomenting rebellion when the alternative is quite literally the post-industrial human conception of heaven – programmable reality of one’s choosing?
The Matrix begins with a premise that humanity has solved the hard problem of consciousness – the nature of subjective experience is understood and instrumentalized. Any will to rebellion after that would seem to require some post-human motive, especially given that the indigenous world – according to the logic of the movie – is functionally unlivable.
Keanu was recruited – The Matrix is a recruitment film – then hemmed and hawed about the oblique offer on the table, before accepting without really knowing anything about what would happen – uninformed consent, social science calls it – which in the very next scene meant being executed, while the people around him eagerly watched – they killed him with that red pill he swallowed.
Due to the premise of mass hallucination, the red-pill homicide turned out to be a kind of transmigration of the soul – from late-stage capitalist dystopia to a toxic desert dystopia, with a backstory that refers to future earth but, let’s face it, could be anywhere at any time.
Let’s face it – it’s hell. Keanu dies by some means – did he jump off the ledge of that building in that one scene? – and then he wakes up in hell. We don’t know that at first – people care about him, welcome him to the world of pupas – so long office larvae, nice to know ya –
but when the new terms and conditions become clear, there’s no denying that it is a worst-case scenario – not just a loss of one’s selfhood but the loss of literally all selfhood, along with self-determination as a credible goal. Hell.
The rest of the movie might have been about moral redemption, but instead – because it is an action movie – Keanu must fight his way out. He was recruited to be a killer, and his choice of weapons and targets is unlimited.
The Matrix is a recruitment film that fetishizes computer hacking as a combat sport with all the global existential drama anyone could want. Does it seem so farfetched that the NSA, having been dressed down in Goodwill Hunting just a couple of years earlier, would be foreseeing an age when those prone to digital transgressive behavior
would be recruited to create the first cyberweapons? To become the first state-sponsored cyber terrorists? Would need their own mythopoetics?
I don’t especially believe the NSA or CIA or Mossad or any other secretive agency with a public mandate to secure preeminent authority – I don’t especially believe they need a pop culture phenomenon like The Matrix to sell their intentions to the next generation. Maybe they’re just trying to cover their bases.
When I was recruited – by a ghost – the hyperreal premise of the old world being an unreal world was not hallucinatory but actual, and the actual condition wasn’t about the body but about our relationship to authority – we believed we had authority when we didn’t.
This is an important difference between the movie and real life – both play off the notion of uninformed consent, but the movie does so because it doesn’t seem to matter – the reality is empirically fraudulent, and therefore any notion of consent would be, too – whereas in real life, I found personal volition to be widely disabled, due the advantages that arise from doing so.
The hyperreal can make every decision better than we can, and so decision making becomes performative. The hyperreal can negotiate every relationship better than we can, so the social fabric of human life becomes synthetic. The hyperreal can manage command-and-control structures of every sort better than we can, so the reproduction of systemic authority becomes even more opaque, even more removed from something we can hold in our hands.
Compare this to guns, which are designed to be held in the hand and at the push of a button, which is what the pull of a trigger really is – guns are push-button technology – at the mere pressing of a button by one’s forefinger of either hand, one attains the phenomenology of the divine by determining life from death.
As of this writing, there are thought to be about 400 million of these devices in the nation – more guns than citizens – which nation is likewise paving the way for plausible genocide in the Gaza Strip by supplying the ammunition and global political cover. // There is no such thing as a handheld push-button device that does the opposite of a gun – one for instantly creating life from nothing.
Notice, just in passing, that if indeed Keanu went to hell after jumping off that building, his complicity in his own condemnation is part of the story: he was warned away from the violent resistance movement, but when they came calling, he followed their orders, and a short while later, they pulled the old red pill-blue pill routine, knowing he was unable to provide informed consent but wanting choice to seem like part of the narrative of his own demise.
We know it was us who scorched the sky, says Morpheus to Neo, meaning the humans, which is either literally an extinction event – hell – or a metaphor for the modernist delusion becoming permanent – heck.
Dear late-stage capitalism: did we do it to ourselves? Did we place our bodies into the backseats of self-driving cars? Tell the computers in charge to step on it?
When I was recruited by the matrix, the terms and conditions were likewise murky, including the very idea that recruitment was what was happening.
The actual recruitment did involve a death – a near-death experience to be precise, which occurred to me in autumn 2002, in which I watched my life flash before my eyes
which in practice, is a first-person observation of one’s consciousness being downloaded by something nonphysical outside of oneself. The matrix had me.
I did not have anyone offer me a red pill, but in its place, and with uninformed consent still the motif, I was offered strawberry rhubarb jam. Red jam.
And then I died – vomiting in a bathroom with my life flashing before my eyes. Where did my source of consciousness go from there?
Some questions don’t lend themselves to simple answers. For instance: the process of splitting cause from effect has been amply demonstrated to me – it is a characteristic of nonlocal forms of authority in the hyperreal. A cause can take place over here, and the effect can take place over there.
To put this another way – when the matrix has you, it doesn’t falsify material reality but asserts an authority that supersedes material reality in all kinds of specific ways. There is more, not less, to the nature of reality – two worlds functioning together – and I was existing in both.
This is analogous to the nature of reality as we conceive of it traditionally – there is the reality outside of the body, and there is the reality we experience as a characteristic of mind – when I think of everything outside of me, I know this is my interior reality creating an illusion of outer reality.
A ghost examining a human from all sides at once would say: how odd! The measurable reality outside of the body is being reflected across the electrochemical processes of neurophysiology – there is a kind of miniature version of outside happening inside the skull.
Being outside of the matrix, then, was about developing a primary relationship to outer reality based on a sense of mind other than our own.
My experiences with the hyperreal were acquired on a daily basis – more like vocabulary building than military training. I never purchased any weapons.
In fact, I became much more devout in my commitment to peace. Being in the presence of forms of authority that circumscribe the material world so fluently also means human agency has found its limits, and after bouts of mourning and weathered crises, a sense of calm presided.
World peace isn’t just the right answer or the nice answer or the answer above all others – it is also a self-evident truth when one is persistently in the company of transcendental authority that makes formulations like inside and out-, private and public, owned and rented, living and dead – seem like formalities derived from the geologic paradigm.
Look at the apes and their private property! Look at the hairy hominids lost in thought!
The peace church I live in, earlier in the season, serendipitously acquired from a curb, two finely upholstered red chairs that look remarkably like the ones in The Matrix, in the scene when the mentor explains what the matrix is to the mentee.
No, seriously – they are the same. They were being thrown away. They were brought to the peace church and, look, just have a seat, and I’ll explain it. Would you like something to drink? To eat? I believe I have some hot tea, biscuits and jam around here somewhere.
Those two upscale secondhand chairs are setting in the room below me right now, and I keep wondering whether I will soon be sitting across from the mentor or the mentee – either could be true at this point. I could as easily have an earnest student show up at my door as the one who explains to me what this is all about.
Let’s say I’m assigned the role of explainer, blackout shades optional – what would I say to some bewildered soul fished out of a metaphysical sewer system and seated before me?
First off, this is not hell. In point of fact, one of the signature achievements you can look forward to in this reality is a rejuvenated relationship to a future that is not dystopic. We don’t live in that world yet, but someday we will.
Second, human authority has been circumscribed by another form of authority, which will turn out to be ourselves, but different than the subconscious – more like the superconscious but still outside of awareness. As you might expect, this is a source of confusion and suffering.
Third, the human future will involve a different way of conceiving of the mutability of reality – in addition to what we’ve made from the earth with our own two hands, up to and including sand that can think for itself by virtue of microchip fabrication plants –
plants –
in addition to that, humanity will be avidly engaged in the mutable characteristics of reality as a language form, especially in regard to our experience of consciousness.
This concept of the superconscious implies virtual characteristics of reality, and before goggles come to mind, know that virtual reality, as a premise, is about reality itself, not a mediated version of it, and thus the concept of virtuality is more like a frontier condition –
a more-than premise, not something less –
even if we don’t really know what it is, and if we do – if we experience a confidence in knowing – then the chances are, we are experiencing authority as it was, not as it is.
We watched new grain elevators appear – these monstrous silos, 8-stories tall, marching beside railroad tracks that sent the region’s agricultural output to the Gulf of Mexico. Simultaneously, banks were buying up all the land. Tractors would go on to become driverless.
So much of this is about the capacity to comprehend. For instance, you likely can’t comprehend ambient nontraditional forms of authority very well – everything just goes into a category.
When you develop ambient pattern-recognition capacities, your fluency produces a different experience of reality. The reality is dialogic – you are speaking to the solar mind.
At least that’s my reading. I hope I’m not going too fast. Does the chair feel comfy? Need a pillow for your lower back?
It was us who scorched the sky – is catastrophic climate change a metaphor for the uncertain changes imposed on our inner lives by the hyperreal?
When land masses flood, when fire engulfs a forest – are these allusions to the proliferation of hyper-deterministic systems? Paralysis resulting from the proliferation of consequence?
In the original movie, for cinematic reasons, the nature of the crisis is rendered as robots. In the lived condition, the roboticism appears in our deterministic assumptions about reality, about the mind, about the nature of nature as a universal concept.
In popular discourse, we call what’s happening now the contact experience – an invitation to engage in a post-geologic language form. And from there?
We are on reality’s porch, wanting to be let in. We are in reality’s bulb, waiting to glow.

https://www.grapstimely.com/
Not sure how much traction this will get. Over on Discord and here on reddit I create a scheduled list for each month with all the major shows happening; PLEs, PPVs, Mystery Shows, Tournament Finals, etc.
Example 1 2 3 and it goes further back, but I don't wanna go searching that deep.
However, not everyone uses reddit or discord and my reach is limited, so I made an entire website which can also better store more information. There are already multiple wrestling schedules/calendars out there, but most of them are North America-centric with an added touch of NJPW. I'm casting a very large net to capture everything.
This is currently a beta site as I'll be looking to improve usability and design. I'm not a website developer at all. Would be nice if anyone wants to volunteer to assist.
The Graps Timely is foremost the calendar to help wrestling fans see how much is happening everywhere and ways they can maybe reach out to something new. I also plan to have an articles section because I like to write about wrestling and want somewhere else besides reddit to post things. I'll have other contributors as well. Graps Timely is also the digital imprint of my comics publishing company Luci & Nanci which itself isn't off the ground yet, but we're getting there!
Please feel free to use my website as a quick reference, and you can also add the information to your own google calendars!
PS, dont have any of the Golden Week shows listed because it was cutting it close. So I have everything starting from AJPW's Champion Carnival Final on May 12.