Arthritis swollen hands and arms

I originally planned to write a comment in u/Mindless-Base8597’s current thread about our thoughts on the Cyberpunk 2077 sequel, just a handful of bullet points, but I am legitimately insane and I could not stop. And I have a major league passion for this IP, so I figured I would dump all my thoughts in here on the off-chance that some of you solid choombattas would give it a skim and share your opinions. There’s probably going to be overlap with a lot of thoughts others have introduced, but maybe there will be some ideas that challenge them too. There's also going to be alot of tabletoppish stuff as well, which I hope resonates with some people but I know it's not for everyone. I also understand that alot of these ideas may not even be plausible considering the work it'd take to implement them, however this game is going to be baking in the oven of development for several years and technology is advancing faster and faster day by day, so who knows. Anyhow, thanks for taking the time to click on my big ol wall of text and I hope my ideas can provoke some thought-bounceage, simultaneous dreaming or at least some mild entertainment.
THINGS I THINK THE SEQUEL MUST HAVE:
Crew building: The tabletop Cyberpunk is designed for a group of players that work together to do stuff, therefore the player should be involved in these kinds of team-oriented jobs in which they carry out their role. The concept of crews is well-established in the lore and game world, and would be a very welcome addition as a gameplay mechanic, especially given the focus on the crew in Edgerunners. It can be managed with slots via a “Crew” tab in the menu and your Street Cred could be the metric by which it expands. In 2077, Street Cred was bound to unlocking gear for some reason, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, because which Night City vendor is going to turn away eddies just because they think the customer doesn’t have enough street cred? Pretty asinine when you think about it. Maybe you start off with just one friend in your crew and as you gain Street Cred, you unlock more slots until you can have 5 or 6 other chooms you can be tight with and carry out jobs together. They could be fleshed out characters you can get attached to, and/or disposable replaceable gonks given how easy it is to die for nothing in Night City. A crew hangout or hideout where you get together and plan operations would also be fuckin nova.
Character networking: We see V making friends and contacts in 2077, and in Phantom Liberty we see V contacting them for help. It would be very cool to see more of this implemented in a broader scope. If we've got a job to do from a fixer or a task we have to accomplish in the story, but we're not equipped to storm in and handle it ourselves, maybe we call some buddies or hire someone from.. I don't know, Afterlife (you know, the mercenary bar full of mercenaries that are looking for work). We need some recon done, call up your crew’s netrunner and pay them for a quick rundown. We need information, we call up the fixer in whatever district we need the info for, and they have us do a task for them, pay them, or direct us to someone else to get the info. Networking can obviously also factor into crew building as well.
Player agency: I’ve only played a little handful of Phantom Liberty so far, but wow, they’re firing on all cylinders with this. Three moments stick out to me so far where I had the option to talk it out and make decisions, but was still allowed to bring my weapon up, and was able to just waste the threat on the spot mid-sentence. Now that’s what I call agency. I don’t think this simply just a want or an idea, I think it’s a given that more of this approach will be taken in the sequel if the way they handled it in Phantom Liberty tells us anything. More ways for us to really decide what we do.
A humanity system: Another cue from Edgerunners, where humanity was a big deal. If we're not playing as V, we don't have the Relic in our head, and that's something that has to be considered. They kinda put it in 2077 in part with the rage state mechanic but that's all the way at the top of a skill tree, and doesn't put you on MaxTac's radar or have any consequences. If modders can implement it into 2077 in their free time, CDPR can do it too.
Cosmetic and visual cybernetics: Come on choom, speaks for itself. Needs to happen. The Arasaka Cyberarms mod shouldn’t have to exist in a world where there’s droves of cyberarms just hanging around and laying in boxes. Give us subdermal LEDs (which are just junk for some reason). Neck/throat cyberware, ear cyberware, chest cyberware, lip cyberware, we want all of that. Such a standard thing for this world and adheres firmly to the rule of cool. Also when we chrome up, whether it’s functional or cosmetic, what cyberware we choose should appear on our person when appropriate. I wanna see that sandevistan protruding from my back. I wanna see that frontal cortex implant that gets me mad crit chance on my temples. And so on and so forth.
Separate tattoo locations: What if I just want one tattoo on my only 'ganic bicep? What if I like one part of a face tattoo but don't like the other stuff it comes with? Shouldn't have to use a mod for that. A tattoo artist isn't ever going to tell you "yeah, I can do that one on your arm, but I also have to put a snake on your whole torso" no matter how gonked off of secondhand drugs he is.
Regarding the story: We at least need a player character that isn't bound by the ludonarrative dissonance of impending death on a timer. If we've got a chip in our head that's gonna kill us in an urgent time frame, we shouldn't want to be hustling around the city buying luxury cars, participating in boxing matches and doing work for the police. Other than that, I don't care. CDPR are master storytellers, they'll make it and I'll like it. No good endings though, not in Night City.
Common sense fixers: Why on earth would a fixer hire a loud merc to do a quiet job? If you haven't spent any points in stealth skills, if you don’t have silencers in your stash, if you don’t have optical camo, etc., then fixers should not obligate you to carry out solo infiltration jobs where discretion is key. It just sets the player up to be chastised and paid less. They should simply not consider you for the job, but instead give you a different way you can contribute to the job. More on this later.
More functional optics cyberware: There’s no reason our Kiroshi optics shouldn’t be able to flick into thermal infrared or night vision mode if we buy a model with that feature. Why we weren’t available to buy optics with these features in 2077 is beyond me. A corp like Kiroshi has definitely entered this market.
Weapon customization: This is another no-brainer. Your weapons are an extension of yourself. You should get a say in what they look like. If I use Fenrir in 2077, why do I have to have that god awful Maelstrom logo on it when spraypaint clearly exists? At the very least, they should be fully cosmetically customizable. If you’re a techie, you should have the ability to tinker on them and fine tune them how you like, too. If you’re not a techie, there's good incentive to go make friends with one or have one in your crew. Might have a think about having your character just choose one or two weapons in the beginning and then you have to stick with them for the whole game as a component of your character, and those will be your special guns and your special guns alone. We pretty much do this anyway if we make a character build in 2077. Just like any characters we meet that carry and use their own iconic weapons, your one or two weapons will be YOUR special iconics and you can modify/have them modified to your tastes with progressively better stats, custom tuning, appearance customization and weapon effects of your choice. Jackie had two pistols and a machete that were definitively HIS hallmark weapons and components of HIS character and personality. Obviously you can use other iconics too, but they will never be YOURS. Yeah it does kind of cripple the freedom, but in a sensible way because it forces you stick to your role, make your character truly important and unique like they should be in an RPG. Plus it's kind of gonk for a corpo counterintel character to be using a sniper rifle all game and then decide they want to start using a katana without having spec'd into reflexes. What would you even do with a katana if your job has always been quickhacking and shooting from a city block away? An illusory freedom that wouldn't be missed for long, imo.
Meaningful vendors: I can play a whole character start to finish in 2077 without buying anything from a point of sale except for the odd trip into a clothing store. Even then, there’s clothes laying around for free all over the place. All of these gun shops, eateries, netrunner supply jams, junk shops, are pretty much useless. Find a way to involve them in the gameplay. Maybe some biz owners have work for you and unlock the real preem shit after you’ve increased your rep with them? Maybe you did a job that inadvertently allowed a proprietor to get a hold of some unique cyberware in their stock. Maybe you buy enough junk from a guy and he decides to sign an exclusive deal with you where he regularly sends junk shipments to your techie, who is in turn able to craft more things for you. Set up a gun dealer with a line on cost-effective components, I reckon they might be elated with the profit that they're gonna turn and maybe they've got something special for you in the back. I also noticed a vendor in Dogtown that asked if we're shopping for a Christmas present or to equip a small army. A merchant like that would be pretty valuable for someone who runs a crew that needs equipment.
Attention to economy balance: 2077 gets to a point really fast where eddies don’t mean a thing. One, because there’s not much to buy after you chrome up to whatever build you’re going for and you have all the cars and apartments you want. Furthermore, you can make more money in 10 minutes of murdering unmarked gangbangers on the map and selling their guns than you do in an actual gig. Make the Eurodollar important. Make it scarce. Think about introducing a technological macguffin that locks weapons to their owners like MGS4, not preventing you from taking them for disassembly but preventing you from selling them for easy money. You’re in a bleak, gnarly trash-ridden, sex-crazed psychotic neon dystopia where humans kidnap other humans to chop them up for XBD sales and cyberware/organ harvesting, people are enslaved in broad daylight and resigned to truly fucking heinous existences as sex and torture objects, and lives are routinely brutally ended over paltry sums of eddies. Only corpos live that high life, and even then, they're never truly safe. Make the eurodollar live up to the lore.
Trauma Team: Kind of speaks for itself but if we're neck deep in eddies, we aughta be able to invest in a Trauma Team coverage package. Instead of a game over screen and a reload from a checkpoint, why don't we implement this chef kiss worldbuilding into the actual gameplay? Don't let it go to waste.
THINGS I THINK WOULD BE INTERESTING:
Meaningful lifepaths/tabletop roles and gameplay implications: In 2077, we get the choice between three lifepaths: Nomad, Streetkid or Corpo. The tabletop roles include Rocker, Solo, Media, Nomad, Netrunner, Techie (can be combined with MedTech), and Corpo (I excluded Fixer and Lawman excluded for gameplay and narrative reasons). Gigs should be predominantly focused around these roles, allowing for some extreme diversity. The gigs that fixers give you should be the same for every character, but what you are doing in them will be different depending on your role. For instance, you're a rocker (rocker could mean rappeDJ/whatever too at this point), your role in the gig might be running interference or causing a diversion so the solos can make a hit. You're a netrunner, you're disabling security systems and providing recon for the rest of the crew. You're a media, you've gotta interrogate the miniboss at the end or slide your friend a story to air that will get the opposing faction's attention. You’re a nomad, you’re cutting off enemy reinforcements with your cool vehicle before they get to the gig site. Bang, now you've got ridiculous degrees of replayability, and not only do you have gigs that are far deeper than sneaking in/killing everyone and taking something after a quick one-sided phone call, your lifepath is meaningful and you don’t even have to live out a short intro for it. Maybe this is an implausible pipe dream because it might mean CDPR has to design every gig like 9 times though. But I'm sure many players would agree, less gigs is a totally acceptable tradeoff for higher quality. There are 81 gigs in Cyberpunk 2077 (I think). I would easily agree to chop that number down to 20 or 25 if they could implement this degree of depth, and encourage replayability so you get to experience these gigs from multiple angles.
In any case, this is going to limit players severely in what they can and can't do as far as their abilities go, but in a good way. It's going to up the RPG factor big time and make the player commit to the role they've chosen. Sure, now you can't do everything, you have a skill set limited to your chosen expertise, and it might be narrow, but.. good thing you'll have a crew that makes up for it! Need to craft stuff but you're not a techie? Get one in your crew. You a netrunner that can't handle the heat of firefights? You need a solo or two. Are you an ugly dirty nomad who hasn't had a hot shower for a few months and nobody wants to get near you? Get a hot, cool rocker to handle your social situations for you. So on and so forth.
Thoughts on tabletop attributes: I think they did a preem job adapting Cyberpunk 2020's tabletop attributes to 2077. It doesn’t need to be changed, really, but there are little ways they could make it evolve a bit so it’s not the exact same. The tabletop attributes are Intelligence, Reflexes, Tech, Cool, Attractiveness, Luck, Body and Empathy (excluded Movement Ability for obvious reasons). CDPR could think about how to implement the attributes they didn’t in 2077. Like Cool or Attractiveness functioning like Charisma in other RPGs, or being somehow related to your clothing. Hard to think about because clothing is so subjective, but it's the rule in Cyberpunk that you have to look as cool as possible and even if you fuck up, you have to make it look like you meant to fuck up. Empathy could be a stat that determines how well your can read people, tell if they're lying to you or not. Maybe the player can have one of those clothing store workers or a Mox contact appraise their Attractiveness and have them assign some kind of tasks to increase it? It's good the way it is now but just something to think about.
Vehicle customization: It’d be cool to have access to this via a garage or chain of garage businesses to trick out our vehicles cosmetically and functionally. Better yet, if you have a nomad in your crew/are a nomad, that you’d have access to exclusive modifications that will be available to utilize for gigs or just for aesthetics.
Gig preparation: Gotta intercept a convoy? Good idea to hit up your nomad choom first if you have one, and get him to install a custom EMP switcheroo in your offroad rig, or pay his buddies to set up spike strips lest you have to figure out a way to bring it to a halt the hard way. Pulling off a gig where you know there will be a big NCPD response? Best get equipped with an advanced area radio scrambler. This can kind of tie into your role-specific gig executions too. For instance, a rocker might have to go acquire some glitter and figure out a way to distribute it to the enemies on the site before the job so they’re all twacked out when the rest of the crew comes. This should also tie into the networking, more of utilizing your friends and acquaintances. Friends with the codefreak watching the Maelstrom warehouse? Give em a call, pay them/trick them/otherwise convince them to take the day off.
Role-specific activities: Just simple radiant quest-ish things that pertain to your lifepath that don't infringe on the story. Jobs that don't need to be facilitated by a fixer, jobs you get via phone or a job site on the Net. Solos could have radiants where they pick up a quick huscle job to provide overwatch for a deal, or go repo something. Rockers need to slap up gig posters and get secure lines on designer drugs for the clubs they play. Medias need to get requested footage or conduct a short interview. Netrunners doing security audits or subnet infiltrations. Stuff like that. In addition to eddies, players would also be gaining XP for their role that unlocks lifepath-specific bonuses that make you better at your role in gigs. Maybe an experienced team member can have access to different approaches in them, or get better rewards.
Tabletop skills: In the final version of 2077, we’ve got skills such as Headhunter, Shinobi, Netrunner, Solo, Engineer. The tabletop skills relevant to gameplay could be Authority, Awareness (or Perception), Athletics, General Knowledge, Interrogation or Streetwise. Perhaps some of these could be implemented, as Netrunner, Solo and Tech are already roles. Roles could give accelerated XP gain to these if they pertain. For instance, a corpo is going to eventually be really good with Authority, a solo is going to be really streetwise, etc.
Tabletop motivations: This might be a VA budget nightmare depending on how they'd run it, but when you create a character in the tabletop, there's criteria such as the thing your character values the most (money, honor, power, etc), your personality traits, how you feel about people, your upbringing, etc. CDPR is smart. If anyone can find a way to cleverly implement even light aspects of this, it would be them. You could be given small drip feed rewards for adhering to your character’s standards. Maybe your character is “stable and serious” which allows you to start with a bonus to Cool. Maybe they’re “friendly and outgoing” which would open speech checks with likeminded NPCs as a way to possibly advance in a mission or establish a contact. Maybe they’re “rebellious, antisocial, violent” so they get a slight damage bonus.
Gang/Corp relations: Doing a lot of work for a specific gang or corp? They should like you better and show it because it’s in their best interest that you are succeeding. Maybe they send some money shards or weapons from time to time, maybe they give you specific rewards, maybe they lend you someone you can add to your crew, maybe you can call some of them for backup in a fight or a deal or a gig. But if they don’t like you, you might want to rethink passing through their territory, have a plan or expect them to send someone to take you out. Or if you’re cool with them, maybe you can call on them to offload stolen goods you "found". Also note that all of the gangs in Night City in 2077 are completely fucking abhorrent except for one. Maybe they can create some new gangs or resurrect some left out gangs from prior lore. Incorporate some gangs that aren’t inherently nefarious, it'd be a good way to pick up some work for a new merc with no rep.
Neighborhood notoriety: If you're running around helping people all day in an community, guarantee they're all talking to eachother about it. Same if you're running around killing people all day. You could be respected as a protector of the district, or feared as a specter that will flatline whoever for being in the way. Westbrook vendors might give you discounts for breaking them free from Tyger Claw protection. Watson clubs might refuse to let you in if you zeroed some of their talent, or they might call the cops on you in SanDom just because they saw you wipe 6th Street party and they're scared. Maybe you'll get free synth noodles from a certain stand simply because the owner is scared to charge you anything. Maybe people should notice what you do and act accordingly, if your character's goals are anything like V's and every other aspiring merc in Night City. Maybe try to put your gun away before you talk to someone, lest they see a gun in their face and consider disliking you.
Think about stashing your money: If I'm a criminal in Night City where the cops don't do shit and I just watched you dump 30 legendary weapons into an automated sale box in Northside at night and it spit out a quarter million eddies, I'm going to flatline you instantly when you're not looking and electric slide over to the nearest dollhouse and live there for the next year. If I'm a netrunner and I scan you sitting in a booth at a club and see how loaded you are, I'm going to tell my crew and they're going to show up behind you next time you have to take a piss. If I watch you give Garry the Prophet 40 thousand eds, I'm following you down the stairs to Vik's but you're not gonna make it there. Maybe don't run around with millions of eddies on your cred chip. Keep your scratch safe at a safe in your crew's hangout and they can use it when they need it to upgrade their gear, acquire intel, hire huscle, upgrade your digs, whatever. It's Cyberpunk 2077, there's a whole ass net and you can buy your neon windbreakers and tight leather pants online from the safety of wherever is safe for you.
THINGS I THINK WE COULD DO WITHOUT:
NCPD scanner nonsense: Bounties for higher profile criminals would be fine, as the NCPD is generally really down bad on their budget and manpower, and can hardly control anything as it is. They could be accessed via the net. But just running around taking care of all of their business for them? No, choom, don’t be doing their job for them when they’d just as soon lock you up, zero you, or get you entangled in some corruption fiasco where you’re a loose end. No way. Don’t work for the badges unless it's in a gig facilitated by a fixer, it’s never worth it. Wipe these encounters entirely and put that energy and labor into something else.
Carry weight issues: Alright if we're chromed to the gills it makes sense that we can carry alot, but even so, who carries around 20 guns and 8 melee weapons on their person when you can only have 3 equipped? I think it should be toned down, and that would also benefit the economic immersion aspect of the sequel. If we run into a Tyger Claws hangout and massacre everyone, how about we call our crew to come pick through the shit off the ground instead of picking it all up ourselves and lugging it to a sale box? Also..
Effortless disassembly anywhere: If we're a techie, we're likely breaking things down into components all the time if we don't need them, putting them into the crew's pool. But why are we doing that in the middle of a Tyger Claws basketball court that we just slaughtered in broad daylight? At least take them to the trunk of your car, or better yet, your workbench back at HQ. If we're not a techie, well what are we doing trying to tinker with stuff? Go bring it to your hangout so your techie or nomad can take a look at it. Makes your lifepath and your crew choice matter more.
Regarding acting talent budget: Keanu and Idris knocked it out of the park, they are incredibly good at what they do, but CDPR should consider reallocating that Hollywood budget into other things. If they have to get celebrities, they don’t have to go all the way to Hollywood. There's a giant pool of very charismatic entertainers they could pick up, but the IP is ubiquitous enough at this point that they simply don't need the marketing boost from Hollywood star power. There are plenty of huge, well-known well-loved faces out there in the world of entertainment (music, youtube, comedy, athletics, journalism) that are avid gamers themselves would likely be thrilled to participate in the game that wouldn’t require a Hollywood paycheck. I could write more all day on tons of excellent looks for these roles, but I’ll save it for another time.
Regarding romance options: Might get heat for this one because romance options are nigh required in open-world RPGs, but I want a setting or at least a dialogue option to friendzone romance options right off the bat without losing story outcomes. Romance IS a possible factor in tabletop character creation but some people just aren't into it. Some people just want to be friends, too, and that's also very valid. Nudity and mature content is a given, obviously Cyberpunk is not a family friendly world and there's a modern understanding that games with adult content and gratuitous violence are going to be graphic. All I'm saying is it's fucking weird when I'm playing this game and my wife walks by and sees POV footage of my character splacking with moaning and gyrating tits. Makes me uncomfortable. Maybe just a problem for me, whatever. Simple options about it would be nice, something better than just slapping underwear on the models. Fade to black is such an easy solution.
Flying cars: Probably going to catch more heat for this too, because this is something everyone raves over, but I don’t find it necessary at all. Most AVs are generally autopiloted anyway and most Night City airspace is reserved for corporations, and introducing manual flying vehicles would a) totally undermine the existence of ground vehicles and b) result in a colossal psychocyberlibertarian airborne clusterfuck without an entire extensively supported NCPD air traffic control division, and from a lore standpoint, they just don’t have that kind of juice. And there’d have to be landing pads and AV parking all over the place, unless for some reason we are the only person in Night City that has a flying car; in which case, that just makes no sense. We'd be on the radar of every other freak that wants a flying car and they'd be itching to kill us and take it. Not to mention how many gangs and psychopaths would shoot it out of the sky for fun. Might as well just fast travel at that point, chooms. I’ll say it’d be a good idea for your crew to somehow acquire an AV for use in jobs, but just to fly around in a car? And do what? Look at shit from far away? Unnecessary.
Consumables: We don’t really need to be carrying around 47 cans of NiCola, 91 burritos, 20 containers of RAM Jolt, 75 slices of locust pizza, etc. in our pockets/invisible backpack/up our asses. Eliminate them entirely, instead replacing the whole concept with food stalls and eateries where you can order and immediately take a seat to consume an appropriate selection of a menu item that grants you a temp buff depending on what you order. Vending machines are strewn about all over the place and most players buy something once just to see what happens. Give those places a reason to exist.
Map marked collectibles: Collectibles are great but when you just scatter them on the map with map markers like the tarot graffiti, it just feels like a chore. It's the first thing I do after Konpeki, just driving around getting all the tarot spots just to get them out of the way. Consider erasing those map markers and making hidden collectibles much more valuable. Night City is an amazing world space, incentivize it's exploration.
Multiplayer: There should be no multiplayer BS involved if it’s going to take away from the singleplayer experience in any way, especially if CDPR has to piss swaths of their budget away for it. At the very most, make some kind of PvE jam accessed as side content. There are many players in the world with subpar internet connections, including myself, and they should not have to deal with connection issues for a singleplayer game. Having players roving the map at the same time as yourself is just going to turn it into GTA5 with griefing and other such bullshit, and make it so the game is unable to be paused, and I do not want to be bogged down dealing with other people’s children or hackers (players, not in-world adversaries) dicking with my shit. Also consider that an anti-cheat would have to be utilized and I don’t want CDPR to have to redirect any budget to be maintaining it to defend the game from people who just want to fuck it up. Lastly, keep singleplayer gaming alive. Look at all this fucking shit I wrote. Do you think I have friends? Not all of us have or even want a gang of friends/online strangers to be involved when we game. Play multiplayer games if you like multiplayer games, no need to make this singleplayer masterpiece into an online fuckfest when there's a hundred other popular online fuckfests going on.
IN CONCLUSION Thanks so much for reading or even skimming through this mess, chooms. Whether you like my ideas or hate them, I live in a world where not alot of people listen to me when I talk, so it actually does mean alot to me that you bothered to even click on this, for what it's worth. Even if you see something in that clusterfuck that made you go "no way, get real." Anyway, hope you’re having an awesome day, and if you’re not, I hope it gets better posthaste because you are, in fact, important. Also if anyone from CDPR sees this, feel free to steal all of my ideas for free.

This happened a while ago and this’ll be a bit long, so here’s the TL;DR. TL;DR: Weapon had a curse that made me want it by all means necessary; Flying leviathan sized worm eats it. I blow it up and it’s flaming body hurtles with me into a “dinosaur” park
Context: I play a bugbear rouge in a setting where me and my fellow adventurers were picked by an enigmatic rich and powerful adventurer to be his heirs, despite the fact we had never met him. (Turns out he picked a ton of these heirs.) All we had to do was show we were heroic enough to earn his incomprehensibly big fortune.
Our adventures included things like us hunting down a bat man who was turning children into rats. Infiltrating a cult and getting a demon tattooed to us (to which we subsequently let a holy army deal with that nonsense). Getting charmed by a massive slime queen and then further mind controlled to spread the slime’s influence, almost getting a higher up of the city. And we even had to deal with an undead mindflayer, who’s phylactery turned out to be a mech, so we just called a god to smite it. Not knowing the DM intended to have that mech focus on fighting an elder brain dragon, so we had to deal with that separately.
Our story really picks up here, after beating both the undead mindflayer and elder brain dragon, we finally get some time to search the place. I find a rather magical looking spear and shield on a long since dead body. Like the idiot I am, I pick both up without thinking, just wanting to take more. Turns out, while both items were extremely powerful, they were also extremely cursed. Just one of their various curses included a curse of obsession. Suddenly, I never wanted either item to ever leave my side and I would do anything to get them, and I was also inclined to use them above other weapons. (To be fair, I was inclined to use them anyway since they were both extremely powerful)
Cut to like a week or so later and we’re on the hunt for a certain artifact an oracle told us about. Turns out that it’s inside a “dinosaur” park. I say “dinosaur” with quotes because the place, while having dinosaurs, also had just a bunch of magical creatures. We’re greeted by Jackson, advertised to by Jackson and shown around by Jackson. (The owner had cloned himself and he’s the only one running the park). Eventually getting to a more wild and open area that we’re advised is dangerous.
Cut again to a bit later, we hear a cry for help. We go to check but find a creature that can mimic voices, and an already dead body by it. I climb back down, disinterested, using magical sticky gloves to easily climb down. My party watches though, and soon enough, more creatures arrive with a still living girl.
Fast forward to me climbing back up, using my gun since they were so far away, missing horribly and creating a VERY loud noise, attracting more of these things… along with a T-Rex. I use Fear from my Ring of Animal Influence to scare the T-Rex away and throw my spear to decimate many of the creatures, impaling one of them.
This is where things go bad…
A gigantic leviathan sized flying worm comes out of nowhere, and with its maw, big enough to eat a T-Rex whole, it swallows three of those creatures, including the one I impaled… my spear, to which I am cursed to absolutely be obsessed with, is in the cavernous mouth of this thing. By the time I realize, my companions try to stop me, but I break away. It still seems too late though, the thing is already 30ft in the air in the blink of its turn. But… I have a dagger that lets me teleport behind (and only behind) an enemy 30ft away. I run after this thing, jumping off a cliff and teleporting right onto this things back. Using my sticky gloves to hold on as it flys hundreds of feet into the air.
Skipping a lot of trial and error of me trying to hurt this thing, or stop it.
I realize the only way I’m getting my spear back is by going in… it senses me on its teeth immediately, and while I do find a gap to hide from its bite, its acidic spit lathers me a bit. Still determined, I crawl inside… I can’t see it, my much needed spear, and a “throat” is alternating between “open enough to fit a double decker bus”, and “your hand could maybe fit”. Seeing no choice, I instead stab the throat, as my tertiary unexpected choice. And that choice flings me right out, with me hardly holding onto his teeth as it’s even more acidic puke dissolves me.
I heal up a bit right there. You know… just hundreds of feet in the air, right on a gigantic worm’s teeth.(Turns out, easy to do when you can one-hand it with magic gloves)
At this point, I say “screw this thing, my spear might be dissolving in that!” And with that, I use my super weapon. You see, I have a crown that can cast ANY fire spell as long as enough charges are spent… but the thing has 20 charges… and the DM ruled that I can expend more charges then what would be required for the highest level spells, at the risk of a 50/50 break. I don’t care about some stupid crown, I want this monster that ate my spear, dead! “All 20 charges!”
What proceeded to happen was… well, the mere charging of this thing caused the monsters teeth to burn away. I only survived that kind of power from my shield (the other item I’m obsessed with by that curse), which gave me fire immunity.
I couldn’t see anything, but outside the blast, druids and mages and all kinds of people watched in horror as this gigantic flaming meteor of a corpse plunged from the air, heading to the biggest tree in the park. With me as the tip of it, as bright as a star. These magic wielders attempted to staunch the ball of fire, but no one was prepared for this, and no one knew just how much power was behind this thing. With smoke and fire covering me whole, along with spells and shields being launched at me, I go unconscious during my free fall.
Surprisingly, thanks to my earlier heal, as well as a big health pool anyway, terminal velocity and all those spells didn’t even bring me to zero. Though I did have to spend all 9 of my hero dice (which is stuff we earned for doing heroic things, allowing us to add as many d6’s as we want to any roll), just to not break my arm. I only just managed the check with all of that.
I awake in a crater, fire quickly spreading around me into the nearby forests full of life. I raise my fire shield and expend almost all its power to call all the fire to me. All the flames trailing like tendrils of fire to my shield. The flames now extinguished, I crawl out and look for my spear.
I find it.
(By the way, I mentioned all that stuff about our other adventures to make it somewhat clear that we all have a ton of magic items at this point. I would have mentioned them all first, but with so many, it was just easier to just use them and not explain too much. Hell, I didn’t even mention we met with a nature goddess(?) who gave me the power to heal myself and alter enemies through nature. Heck, I hardly mentioned my team mates either and their own wacky items and abilities!)
Hope you enjoyed reading this. We were laughing the whole way at how assured this was… just because this thing decided to eat my spear. Oh, and that fire crown didn’t break.

Backstory: my girlfriend(26f) and I(25m) live together with 3 cats. 2 are boys, 1 girl. All different ages. However the kicker here is our girl. Her name is Chia, my girlfriend found her and the rest of the litter(they were 3-4 weeks old at the time) in the parking lot of our apartment at like 11pm in the during a thunderstorm so we took them all in, gave them food/wateshelter etc. for the weekend until we took them to the humane society. Chia was the runt and had a slew of issues but we decided to keep her. (I was the one who pushed for us to keep her specifically, maybe she can sense that lolol)
Fast forward 2 years, and she is absolutely in love with me. Greets me at the door, follows me from room to room, sleeps next to my chaicircles my feet while I play video games, sleeps on the couch next to me if I’m watching TV and is just generally glued to my hip at all times when I’m home. She will let me hold her and dance with her in my arms, she LEAPS her head into my hand almost anytime I go to pet her etc she just shows me a lot of love.
My girlfriend on the other hand is different story entirely. She can only pet Chia for like 5 seconds tops or she will scratch and/or bite her hand. She doesn’t initiate pets from her, doesn’t give her the lovey eyes, kind of runs away from her if she approaches her, she’s like a completely different cat. I wouldn’t say that she’s mean anything, no hissing or random aggression at my girlfriend she just kind of….tolerates her presence? She is very loving to chia, she’s the one who feeds them EVERY morning, she is the “cat person” in our relationship(I grew up with a minimum of 3 dogs in the household at all times) and sometimes it kind of bums her out that Chia won’t love her the same way our boys do.
Any ideas why the dynamic is the way it is? Any tips my girlfriend could use to maybe strengthen their bond or am I just Chia’s favorite guy? Sorry for the long winded post, I just like to talk about her lol :)

Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait, the story is not abandoned, I just got a bit lost in other stuff and have fallen out with the world of NoP a bit. I will continue the story, through I can't promise a new chapter every month.
On another note, I am quite proud of this chapter, this is definetly my favourite one, and I enjoyed expanding on Velnils past and mental health. (And tormenting him, of course. Nah, just joking. xD)
Thank you for creating this beautiful universe!
Also thanks to for proofreading!
Criticism is very much welcome, let me know what you think!
Enjoy!
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Memory transcription subject: Velnil, Arxur deserter Date [standardized human time]: 25th of October, 2136, Middle of the night
CW: panic attack, hallucination, self harm
[Note: Dream state detected. Reliving memory. Proceed? (Y/N)]
[Y]
The cold seeped deep into Velnil’s scales as he trudged up the hidden path of the forest, up onto a small hill where a single, just barely alive tree stood still. There was no wind, no new smells and no sound. It was calm, eerily calm, forcing Velnil to periodically stop and look around, seeing if anyone had followed him.
Every time, there was nothing. It was just the empty forest, filled with dying trees and withered bushes. There were a few animal bones here and there sticking out of the ground, but he did not care enough to spare a glance at them.
As he ascended higher and higher on the small hill, he felt as his breathing slowly returned to normal from the usually used powerful intakes and blowouts. He took a slow, deep breath, as he arrived at the tree, letting the cold air run into his lungs, and calming down his beating heart. He was here again. The only question was if he was really alone or not.
“Frostbubble, are you there?” He asked, almost in a whisper as he looked around, moving towards the tree. It still felt strange to use this nickname, but if it kept her safe and happy, he was more than glad to use it.
“Aww, you did come, Velny.” The voice was almost sickeningly sweet for Velnil’s ears, but he knew it was because of everything he had been learning. The warmth in his chest was just another proof to it, as he noticed her lanky shadow climb down from the tree, keeping a small bag up with her tail as she did so. He felt a slight blush creep onto his face as she hopped down, and quickly approached him.
“How have you been? I hope they didn’t manage to rough you up too badly this time.” The care in her voice made Velnil shutter and relax at the same time, as her hand landed on his arm, caressing the scar he had first received for insubordination.
He was four back then.
“No. I’m okay, Zar… Frostbubble.” More warmth filled his chest at her wide toothed smile. “They didn’t get me this time. I managed to trick them.”
“So clever and cunning, Velny.” Her grating chuckle, while repulsive to his ears, was music to his heart. He felt a soft pressure on his hand as she took it, and began leading him to the other side of the tree, facing away from the facility, and out towards the dying wilderness. The view has always filled him with dread, seeing as nature had slowly withered away with his feelings, only to eventually be replaced by even more factories and facilities. It was truly as if the planet felt his pain, his suffering as he was slowly broken down, only to be replaced by the ideals and will of Betterment.
They sat down on the ground, neither of them caring about the cold, as they leaned back a bit, looking up at the night sky. Everything was so calm, yet Velnil couldn’t keep himself from looking around, listening for any noise that could tell him they were not alone.His anxiety only grew, until he felt a soft touch on his chin. He let his head be turned back towards her.
Her smile was horrible(line through) beautiful. The shine of her eyes as she looked at him so calmly, like they weren’t in constant danger of being found out and killed. It angered him, but at the same time, it filled him with a strange feeling. It was still so alien to him, he never felt it before, only when he was with her.
“We are safe here, Veln. Don’t worry so much about it. I am always watching and also making sure that no one is following you. You don’t need to turn around that often. Let yourself relax a bit.” It didn’t make any sense. How could he relax? They were out and about without the knowledge of the masters, they were going against the rules.
She is not even supposed to be here. She was never in the facility.
He opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything as she closed it, playfully flicking one of her claws on his snout. He shook his head, incredulous about what just happened.
“I know that look, Velny. Relax, just for this once.” As she leaned forward, his heart rate spiked, the alien feeling shooting up like fire as warmth filled his face at the feeling of her nuzzling his snout. He leaned towards her, eyes half-lidded as he felt his muscles relax ever so slightly. Perhaps Zartha is right. He could relax with her, and not be on the lookout for any danger that may be around them.
“Maybe… maybe you are right, Frostbubble.” He mumbled, his eyes closing momentarily as his snout moved to rub at her throat, with a sharp intake of air coming from her.
“Veln, I…” Zartha stopped for a few seconds, prompting Velnil to lean back a bit to look at her. She looked… troubled? Unsure? No, it was something else. Her eyes fluttered while looking all around, as if searching for danger, but they always returned to him, at which point she flicked with her tailtip, until it snagged at her satchel.
“I made something for you.” Velnil cocked his head as he watched her pull out a thermos, quickly unscrewing its top. He watched as steam rose from the thermos, filling the air with a sweet scent, creating an even more serene atmosphere.
“It’s Trilltilla tea. It took a long time, but I wanted to make it for you.” Velnil watched as she presented the top part of the thermos for him. Slowly reaching out, he took hold of it, their hands touching as their eyes met. The shining in her eyes, the way her irises grew, her tail that wagged more and more. He was sure she felt the same strange feeling he felt, as his tail wagged as well, albeit slowly.
He then took hold of it properly, lifting it up to drink. There was no need to say thanks. She knew he was thankful for it.
“So, this is where you have been sneaking off.” Velnil jumped up and whipped around, the top of the thermos falling to the ground as its contents spilled. Next to the tree stood his master, with two burly arxur standing on either of his side. The scowl on his master's face told him everything. They saw everything, the two of them have been found out.
It was over for them.
Zartha slowly stood up, to which one of the arxur moves so quickly to her, it was almost a blur. A painful yelp came from her as she was punched in the gut, tumbling forward, but she wasn’t allowed to fall to the ground. The arxur kept her up, while his master and the other moved in.
“So, you must be Zartha. I have heard quite a lot of you. A disgrace to our kind, really.” His master’s voice was full of contempt. Velnil didn’t dare to speak, nor did he dare to move, lest he might lose his head.
Or worse…
“I’m no disgrace. The only disgrace here is how you trea-” She wasn’t allowed to finish. Master didn’t allow her. The arxur holding her punched her again, forcing the air out of her lungs.
“Tssk. Such a waste of resources. This one is unfixable.” As his master’s eyes landed on him, Velnil felt himself freeze under the glare. “But you will still be redeemed, boy. Oh, you will be. I will make sure of that. You are allowed to return to your dwelling, at this instant.” His heart didn’t want to, but his mind knew he must move. Velnil’s legs, almost like he was on auto-pilot, moved, one after the other, as he began making his way down. He heard as his master turned to address the other arxur.
“Find its father and wipe its disgrace off this world. Then find its mother, and make sure that woman brings a proper arxur into this world.” An acknowledging grunt was the only answer.
The cold seeped deep into Velnil’s scales as he made his way down the hill, the warmth escaping, leaving him with a cold, painful pressure on his rumbling stomach that yearned for her tea.
But it will never feel its warmth.
~~~
Growling, and pressure on his stomach was what woke Velnil up. On instinct, he striked with his right arm, his sharp claws swiping at nothing. His head swiveled around, with no need for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the night, trying to find whatever was threatening him.
There was nothing.
Velnil began to work on calming his breathing as he tried to listen, focusing on the nightly sounds of the forest, seeing if he can hear the soft running of paws, or the strong thumps of human legs.
Again, there was nothing.
With a grumble, he rolled onto all fours, sniffing around and looking for any clues on what might have growled and pawed at him.
The sound repeated itself, this time however, Velnil felt the painful clamps of his stomach as it rumbled loudly, seemingly discontent with the lack of food inside of it. With the realization that he is just hungry - very much so -, Velnil got into a bipedal stance, and began making his way towards the farm.
Looking around as much as he could see of the sky, it must have still been well into the night. He could have just checked it on his holopad, but then his eyes would have to adjust to the dark again, and he would possibly give away his location - after all, he could never know if something or someone was watching him.
The night was annoyingly cold, but it was nothing like what he had to survive during his training. It molded him, made him stronger, able to ignore the cold seeping into his bones and keep on going.
He always had to keep going.
He promised it.
Velnil didn’t know how long he was walking when another rumble left his stomach, this time however, his mouth began to water at the enticing smell his nostrils had caught. It was a familiar smell, divine even, and the bigger breath he took, the more it filled his being, as the picture practically smashed itself into his mind.
Krakotl.
Yumm.
Dropping onto all fours, he made his way towards the source of the smell, taking great care to avoid stepping on a branch, or making any noise that might give away his position. He froze, and silently cursed himself at another rumble of his stomach. Do you want to be filled or not?! If so, be silent!
His stomach did not respond. Good.
Continuing to stalk forward, the smell started to become stronger as the wind carried it to him. Reaching another, much smaller clearing, he hid inside one particularly big bush, easily seeing out of it.
There, in the gentle moonlight kneeled a young, healthy looking krakotl. Its feathers reflected the moonlight beautifully, and he could make out some kind of red pattern on the otherwise greenish plumage that covered it. From scent alone he could tell that it was a female, possibly the same age, or maybe older than he was.
It was just the right age. He could feel himself salivating as he watched it do something, it had its back to him, he could jump out and just get it!
His muscles tensed as he prepared himself, but a sudden thought of realization of where he was exactly forced him to stop, tensing up even more as to not jump. Just then, the krakotl leaned back up, revealing what it had been doing.
Velnil felt himself recoil a bit at the sight of the familiar flower. How did the krakotl get it here?! Who even allowed it to plant that? Why…?
The slits of his eyes slowly rounded out as he watched the light of the moon shine onto the flower, prompting it to slowly unfurl, revealing five sickly green colored petals, with a bright blue colored inside. Velnil felt himself lowering onto the ground, his eyes becoming blurry - but why?
Reaching up, he felt something wet in his eye - tears. He was… crying? Why was he…
It is what she used to make tea for you that day. The memory hit him like a plasma bolt. The flower - Triltilla, or Lover’s poison as some used to call it, was a rare flower from the krakotl turned arxur colony world. Interestingly, the prey was the one that came up with the nickname for the flower - it was said that when the lover made tea from the petals, it’s effect depended on the care that was put into it - the petals had to be cleaned from any pollen, then cured and dried for the right amount of time, which was then followed by making the tea. If the maker of the tea put the proper care to it, it worked as sort of a love potion - it helped with maternity and helped the mates bond.
But if even the slightest mistake was made, if the maker wasn’t careful enough, the pollen, or not drying it for the proper amount of time greatly changed its effect - causing severe pain for whoever drank the tea, and in some cases, even death.
It was dumb. Of course it was, it came from a prey infested world that was cleansed by his ancestors!
And yet, that single flower was one of her favorites. He never truly understood why, but of course, how could he.
He was well into his training back then. He saw it as her weakness. One of her oh so many flaws that plagued her ability to live as a proper arxur.
Oh, because you always lived as a proper arxur? Came the sudden response to his thoughts, feeling another pang of pain from his stomach as he once again wiped a tear from his face. He forced back down a slight growl as he looked back up at the prey, his tongue running over his lips as he kneaded the ground beneath his paws. He wanted to to jump out, to strike, to once again taste his favorite food.
Could he really kill through?
A third, this time much louder rumble had escaped his stomach, it seemed this time the prey had heard it.
“Hello?” The prey’s head whipped around, staring at his general direction, as her soft trilling voice rang out. “Is anyone there?” Another question rang out, it sounded so young, and yet, he watched as his prey’s eyes slowly went over her surroundings, forcing Velnil to slightly pull back, and close his eyes until there was only a slight line visible.
As he imagined how it would taste, his tongue running over his lips, the krakotl took a tentative step forward, eyes still scanning the treeline.
“Lia, is that you?” As Velnil finally got over the fight inside his head, his hunger slowly winning, he prepared to pounce, his eyes opening more ever so slightly as his claws dug into the dirt a bit.
“Aw, damn it. How did you know?” Once again, Velnil almost stumbled out of his hiding spot as a sudden voice came from somewhere to his right. He watched as the prey turned their head towards the voice, as Velnil barely held back an angry hiss at the appearance of a female human.
The woman, referred to as ‘Lia’ seemed to be around [180cm] in height, as she made her way over to the krakotl with surprising silence. Light brown hair flowed down her back, tied into a ponytail. Similarly to other humans, she was also wearing fake pelts, with surprisingly light colored blue jeans and light green shirt.
For a second, Velnil wondered how the human does not shiver from the cold, but his mind quickly wound up with another question: how in the twisted wriss does she hunt in such light clothes? What other thing could she do here at a time like this?
“I didn’t. You scared the… Why are you even here?” The krakotl puffed its feathers up as it turned its head to its side to glare at the predator in front of it. Albeit the body language of the prey showed slight alarm and trepidation, its voice was surprisingly calm, maybe even reproachful. The human seemed to also take note of its voice, putting up her hands as she looked at the prey.
“Oh, I’m sorry miss ‘I go for a walk into the forest in the middle of the night’”. At this, the krakotl seemed to deflate, lowering their head a bit, but not for long, as the human stepped up to them, and brought their head back up with what he assumed was a gentle touch. “I just woke up to being cold, and after waiting a bit, and looking and not finding you, I became worried. Besides, what do you expect if my living, breathing blanket suddenly disappears?” The human chuckled, which was soon joined by the prey's own chuckling, extending a wing to strike at the human.
“Oh, hush, you! It’s not my fault your only protection is your strange pelts! Plus, why are you not wearing anything else, aren’t you cold?” A slight worry in its tone was sickening to listen to, as Velnil continued to watch the two interact, until the human female suddenly stopped, snapping their head towards his direction, accommodated by a cracking sound, which was then followed by the woman groaning, and massaging their neck.
“Shit.. That hurt…” She mumbled. Both the prey and Velnil seemed to jump slightly at the sudden movement, albeit for different reasons. As the prey started worrying over the human, Velnil pulled back even more, laying completely flat on the cold ground as his heart beat even faster. Impossible, this is impossible! The wind is coming from their direction, I was as silent as a night stalker, how could she know I’m here?!
His question wasn’t left unanswered, which confused him greatly.
“Are you okay? What was that?” Asked the krakotl for the third time, thankfully silenced by the human.
“Nothing, nothing, I just… I thought someone was looking at me. I could feel whatever it was.” At the answer, the krakotl tilted its head in confusion, clicking its beak a few times in contemplation.
“You… felt something staring at you? But… how? Aren’t you humans… you know?” The meek thing shrunk a bit again, but was quickly calmed by the human, who ran their hand over their back.
“Eh, it’s hard to explain, and it’s quite late. Let’s just say that sometimes we just get this… feeling of being watched. I have to say, it wasn’t the best idea to come out here without a flashlight, now that I think about it. This place gives me the creeps.” The human seemingly shuddered as she looked around, while the prey looked even more confused.
Before it could say anything however, the human sighed, and turned back to the krakotl.
“Anyways, we should probably head back, Suyla. I heard that tomorrow we will have a… not so good surprise. So we should probably, at the very least, get well rested.” At this, the krakotl seemed to realize something, as they huddled closer to the human, looking around with fear.
“Do you think that it’s… here?” It asked, its voice quivering a bit as the human put their hands on its back, trying to calm the prey.
“Well, I saw Rich arrive, so he must be already here somewhere.” At this point Velnil realized they were talking about him, and he held back a growl once again. He watched as the human led his catch away, leaving him with an empty stomach and an even sourer mood.
“NoT sO gOod SuUrPRisE..” Velnil mimicked mockingly, growling to himself after the human and his food left, grabbing and squeezing a handful of earth as he sulked. This is so dumb, as if the humans would be any better! They are weak and pathetic predators! Even he could take on a few of them! Probably.
Yeah, and you would get yourself killed. And prove them right.
Whatever! He thought to himself with a rumble. It’s not like I care about what they think.
Of course you don’t. Otherwise you would have to accept you are a-
Silence! Growled Velnil as he shook his head. For a few moments, he waited for a reply, but when it didn’t arrive, he raised his chin smugly.
He was about to get up to be on his way when he heard some rustling in front of him. Looking up, he noticed something that looked a lot like a sivkit, except it was wrong in almost every aspect, except for its eyes. He watched the animal approach the newly planted flower, and Velnil scoffed as the animal began to sniff at it.
Dumb prey. You don’t even know what that is, and you just approach it. As Velnil watched the animal, his eyes widened, and time seemed to slow down as he saw it open its mouth.
Oh no, you won’t. With a growl, he sprung from his hiding spot, his maw opening wide with razor sharp teeth as he caught the prey just before it could turn and run.
The metallic taste was a welcome sensation.
~~~
Velnil hummed a low tune for himself as he was walking back to his clearing, his hunger somewhat satiated as he let the cold air fill his lungs to their capacity. With his hunger sated for the foreseeable few hours, he could think a bit more clearly about his situation.
This place looked nothing like a farm. At least, not how a cattle farm would look like, but even those places had parts where they grew prey food to feed the cattle.
So if the humans are not going to keep cattle on this farm, apart from the alien one, why grow so much on such a big area? He knew humans can eat prey food, as revolting of a thought it was, they all could just eat more meat. Do they really care that much about the walking and talking prey that they don’t eat meat because of them?
Bah. Of course they care about their cattle. That way they won’t run away.
Though, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Do they really not eat the alien cattle that are here? Albeit he only just arrived, the animals didn’t seem to be scared at all. That woman - Lia, was his name, if he remembered correctly - even went out into the cold night to find her feathered ‘friend’.
Growling softly, he shook his head, banishing the line of thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t need to think about this - it was useless when it came to his survival. He knew the humans would do anything to save cattle - even if said cattle bombed them. If it needs to be, he can always take one as a hostage, and on the other hand - he probably could still get at least one of the prey riled up enough to attack him.
That will be spectacular.
But what else could he do? There was one saying he saw on a human website that described his current position quite nicely - He was a wolf among sheep. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. He had to get them to lower their guards, to not view him as a threat, but rather, one of those weak useless arxur who cannot do anything right.
Oh, you have experience in that, don’t worry.
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” He hissed to himself, stopping in his tracks as he looked forward. His arms shook slightly, but he forced his hands into fists to stop it.
What’s the matter, Velnil? Forgot about me so quickly? You hurt my - sorry -, our feelings.
“I said shut up!” Growling filled the air as Velnil leaned forward, the shaking moving to his shoulders.
Why should I? We are no longer in the Dominion. Betterment can’t get a hold of us. We are free.
“We are not free… We will never be.” growled Velnil suddenly turning to swiftly strike at a tree. He winced from the pain shooting through his right hand, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to feel. He shouldn’t feel anything.
But we are. We ran away, fooled the humans, fooled their prey. We could go where we want. Or stay here. Live a new-
“This is NOT my home!” Velnil yelled. “This will never be. I am not free, just a damned prisoner of another species! I can never be as free as I want to be!”
And what would you call being free? Not like you would know it, of course. I can see it, after all. You know nothing about being free. You are just-
“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup!” Velnil yelled as he began hitting his head against the tree, each time his body shaking in pain while the tree stood steadfast.
Unmoving.
Uncaring.
Emotionless.
With tears in his eyes, he slunk down against the tree, his breathing fast and uneven. The shadows danced around him, waiting in silence, waiting to pounce on his weak form. The sounds of the night sky became howls of predators, the ground further ahead opened up, the rotten, clawed hand of an arxur suddenly appearing at the edge of it, pulling it’s body up, revealing a set of familiar yellow eyes.
“V-veeeeelniiiilll” Groaned her corpse as she pulled herself up, taking a step closer. His breathing fastened as his eyes were trained not on her head, but her torn open neck.
“No… No… I- I didn’t…” His whines were left unanswered as her corpse took another step towards him, an arm reaching out as one of her eyes fell out, leaving the empty socket as a void to peer into and devour his weak soul.
“I didn’t want to!” He yelled, trying to crawl away, but the tree behind him didn’t let him. “I never wanted to! I-I-I wanted to keep you safe, but I-”
“Veeeeeel-” The corpse sighed out, before taking in a shallow breath - her torn open throat moving along with the action, opening to let air in, before she continued. ”-nyy.” Another step, then as he blinked, she was standing over him. A startled whine left him as he scooted back even more, pressing against the tree as she reached out.
“I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry, I wanted to save you, I did!” He screamed hiding away behind his arms as he shouted one last thing: “I loved you!”.
As he shrunk back even more, his breath slowed, his head became woozy as soon his consciousness began to slip away, hearing her speak one last time.
“Veeeeeelnnnyy.”
~~~
Velnil came back to consciousness with a start, head rapidly turning around as his breath hitched, until pain shot through his head. With a wince, he pulled himself up, gingerly touching his head - his scales were damaged, and blood was dried on his head. He winced slightly as pain shot through both his head and right hand.
Shit. They will definitely notice this… He thought to himself as he took a ragged breath. He looked where the hole had appeared - there was nothing, the ground was undisturbed. His gaze lingered on it, before he eventually turned, and continued to make his way towards his clearing, still in the darkness of the night, like nothing had happened.
It has been so long since the last one. Why now? Why is she tormenting me? His questions were left unanswered. He forced himself to stop, and after taking a deep breath, he looked around, listening for any nearby river or something. Sniffing around, he could feel the smell of water off in the distance, and so, he began making his way there.
I need to wash off the blood.
Within a few minutes, he had found a large river, the water flowing down with relative force. Kneeling down at its edge, he leaned forward, and began cleaning his head and hand with practiced, almost robotic movements. The proof of his weakness stinged and flared up at the cold touch of water, but he did not care. He watched as the water slowly took on a red hue, before disappearing down the river.
Within another few minutes, Velnil could easily make out the outline of the injury - it wasn’t too big, but it was most definitely noticeable, and will take days - if not a few weeks - to properly heal. He could hide it, since he was still somewhat bigger than everyone else - but then that would go against his plan on appearing meek and unsure about things.
Maybe I could use it. Play it off as having a bad night. Maybe I could get them to give me more food than they planned. The humans are very empathetic, I’m sure that after seeing this, they would feel bad enough for me to somewhat drop their guard. Maybe I can even fool some of the prey. Yes, that, being attacked by one should be enough for them to not view me as a threat.
Satisfied with the plan, Velnil got back up, and with a sigh and a few minutes of walking, he finally made his way back to the clearing. Lying down on the cold ground, he carefully rested his head atop his bag once again, looking at nothing in particular.
His next few minutes were filled with rolling around, unable to go back to sleep, as his thoughts were slowly but surely going back to the krakotl he saw. The green feathers, adorned by a red pattern, its yellow beak, and similarly yellow eyes.
Yellow eyes that stared deep into his soul.
The yellow eye that has fallen out of its socket, to leave an empty void to devour his soul.
Velnil forced his eyes shut, turning around again. Not again. He thought, forcing himself to think of other things - the taste of the prey animal he caught, his way towards Earth, the russif.
Eventually, within a gruesome few minutes, Velnil was finally granted the sweet release of sleep.
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(High Cranial Volume Pr and AE Hybrid Users ONLY)
I still can't get AE to perform well on my M2 Macbook Pro running Sonoma 14.0 and AE 24.3. 32 GBs RAM — so obviously that's going to be immediate the culprit, but I do suspect that I could do pretty much anything I wanted on this computer if I could just optimize it correctly. That's what this thread is about. I know there are a million threads like this one but hopefully we can dig up some new dirt. I haven't really written about Sonoma but what I've read seems to indicate a lot of people have had issues. I'm not an OS guy I get enough of a headache with the shit I care about. Not sure if downgrading is possible. Maybe I upgrade my RAM (whoops hee hee nvm forgot i was on an apple computer).
You can stop reading there, because the rest of this is schizo nonsense. I've sobered up and I can't say that any mother would accept a child this ugly. But I'm also getting giddy at the thought of crossposting to editors and seeing what the Avid Professionals Working On Big Serious Productions With Budgets That Totally Won't Disappear in the Next 20 Years have to tell me about making some dough in exchange for the sweet intoxication of art. I also did a better job of listing my issues in my follow up comment
**Intro Apology**
**I've bolded out the sections with the mostly important shit:** I would take extra care to avoid anything that's been italicized because it is some of the most craven text ever set to paper. As if! I can't even use metaphors anymore. Will the graphic designers starve without their paper (why is it always either minimalism or hyper realism? I like texture too but not everything has to be made out of everything, or not made out of anything at all! Nature Without Ecology.)
This is just me typing and never stopping. For some reason. Well, it's no mystery. I'm avoiding anything that even resembles productivity.
I've already wasted time just stream of concussing every intrusive thought, so why would I waste more time reformatting and trimming the fat? Bahahaha I hope you like lamb. If I put forward attention to giving you direct information that effectively communicates an idea, I might just achieve nirvana. Like if I hyperfixate when I'm shitposting, then I am just going to realize the World-Spirit in-itself trying to abide by the laws of rhetorics. Let me tell you, the laws of rhetoric certainly don't make you any less schizo. How do you think we got here?
But that's the future the fucking tech bros made. And it's fucking awesome. Can't wait to be animating using my Rule 34 Paper Texture Parallax Datamosh VFX by AEAnabolics via telekinesis (is there a plugin for that?!??!)
So no I'm not going to make this thread easily accessible or interpretable because I really want anyone possessing any degree of intelligence to stay the fuck away (there are even intelligent people amidst the industry leaders, I once even met a film producer who knew how to count through 12! In any case, if everyone under 30 could exit the room, us pedants, drop outs and philistines will congregate somewhere other than all and we'll be happy to update you later with a summary of our findings.
I do apologize for the wordvomit — I took my meds abt 30 mins before I had the brilliant idea to open up a silly little text box on reddit during my awesome Pomodoro break. I had to be off the ADHD goodies for a week for some sports stuff I was trying to do which needed my heart at optimal function. Why did my doc just let me hop back on the same dose? I am emaciated from all this heavy lifting with my fingers.
Please though, don't dismiss this as pathological ravings. I am not sick, just an Adobe Creative Suite subscriber (somehow, five years later, I'm still on the student discount paying 30 bucks!!! Haha!!! Sticking it to the man!!!! Suckers!!!! Almost as bad as pouring thousands into software you don't own and can be shut out of for trumped up fraud charges if one of the cretins working at Adobe manages to actually check the accounts submitting all those pesky support tickets. Wait....)
So ya it's pretty simple: I was sunning my balls and cheating on five different women *holistically though* before taking my L-Carnitine to maximize the effects of my meth (don't worry I don't smoke it!), when I decided, yes, this Friday, with deadlines looming in the evening, I will nuke my morning by typing. and just not stopping. It's like stim sex, but literally no one is cumming. Wait, literally it's like stim sex.
Okay stop. I want you all to save the horniness for pitching to the Rule 34 Clients — the last to adopt AI in favor of authentic art and animation (bahahahhahaha I seriously do think *This whole AI thing, or at least its acceleration, can be put squarely at the feet of Gooners. They're horny and no human can create what will quench their thirst! Such a tragic condition. Like craving art that can speak to your soul. Ugh. Can't wait for Mister Horse to drop the Anime Waifu presets*.)
*(speaking of Misters, watch Mr. Rush Rush Client — who just needed this edit NOW — not even watch the video until Sunday. That rat fuck: maybe I don't have a social life huh? Maybe I don't want another shitty "underground" (as if such a thing exists anymore) rave on a Friday and a Hinge date on a Saturday?
Maybe genuine connection is dead and all some of us can love is the labor we put into our products. Or the efforts we put into our shitposts. Certainly the products themselves are far beyond loving.
Mr. Rush Rush: your 9-5 is shit and you are shit for thinking you are not a piece of shit because you force everyone to meet your fake timelines. We no longer cultivate produce, nor ideas, we just materialize urgency so the boss can larp as the boss and we can pretend society needs us to keep rhythm. It is the Master who needs the Master's Injunction. I like want to change the world man not reproduce it. I am barren.
Just let me work on Saturday. Asshole. It would have saved all of us from this post which was, of course, provoked by pure, unmediated anxiety — and absolute boredom.
*Fuck paper textures! Fuck any lower thirds that use paper textures. Shit is garbage. The elementary school audience went off to war — it's the latest Roblox minigame. So we're not even impressing anyone any more)*
Instantly — upon the epiphany that I don't owe people shit, even if they throw money at me, my brain ditched all ideals of productivity and decided it was time to write a fucking treatise on my experiences trying to optimize AE. Please do not mock me. I am an idiot. It's not worth countering snark with snark —because I can't even read. I am literally dictating this post to my iPhone and then having chatgpt re-write it. Also, I really hope some GPT or AI research tool digs up this thread. I'm sure they will wire only the relevant information to Mr. Prompter! He deserves the best. In fact he's the only one who deserves anything.
*If I was a GPT prompt I would be posing as a weird hermit who thinks he is the postmodern reincarnation of Plato. WELCOME to the republic ... of stupid — ruled under the auspices of the Kingdoms of Adobia, Resolve-ru, and Avidia (btw can we do what we did to Twitter to Avid? I just don't think it's a cool name. I'm not Avid anytime I have to use Avid. It doesn't have neurolink compatability and I can't do a million things very shitily. It just does like one thing very well. Who would ever ask for that?!?!?1*
For some reason I decided to pump up the snark to the max on this post — I hope that's okay. Maybe I want to write novels, not make videos. In any case, I promise you I'm not AI writing this. Unless ....
But at the end of the day I'm just trying to entertain myself instead of getting real work done — which I can't imagine is something a community of useless creatives would have trouble understanding. You couldn't do math good, and that's because you're lazy!!!
(Dan Ebberts if you're here I am sorry Father: but you are not a useless sack of shit motion designer, you're not making lower thirds for the Nelk Bros? You are the fucking Grand Wizard Abstract Quantum Mathematician my guy, the highest expression of the Enlightenment rationale, not a useless 2.5d animator — though I do secretly harbor a belief that all numbers are racist and you, as the Prophet of Numbers where they don't belong (computers) have a lot of reckoning to do. Guilt erotics won't get you out of this one — we don't want sorry we want solidarity!
**I'm half shitposting and half offering my own insight in exchange for yours.** I hope you don't read malice in my words. In any case I don't think myself a victim and I will be fine. Our world is about to turn nonsensical. The division of labor will collapse. Those who are both just intelligent enough to do dumb shit and lacking in morals will take everyone else's jobs. Technocracy of the morons! Somebody invite France too.
What's your intricate knowledge of a cavernous software versus my ability to write out prompts at 130 WPM? Basically, where you used to be able to get ahead with creative ingenuity you can now get ahead by typing fast. Good riddance lol. But if only we could get this piece of shit software to do everything I want it to do with not even a smidge of an attempt to optimize, pre-render, under smart principles?
But I'm hoping maybe we can have some conversations about the best practices to get this piece of shit software to work consistently. AE is so cool 90% of the time but it's like a girlfriend that's loyal to you 90% of the time. Now I'm not suggesting Adobe is cuckolding the VFX wannabes among us.^1 But I do want to say that there's a problem when your most random software that kind of just somehow works if you need how to cast a few voodoo spells and play around with different effects is literally un-professionizable. You can do amazing things in After Effects on just 16 GB of RAM (even 8 if you're willing to walk away from your computer for a fortnight for a few renders), which was so cool when I was getting started on the shitcans they hand out in college (I sound spoiled but you didn't spend the first year of your professional career on an outdated Mac Air desperately refreshing Google News for a stimulus check as literally everyone is jobless whilst you never even got a job to be jobless from. Like come on guys, if you got started in the 90s at least you have analog nostalgia and to anyone born after 95 you look like a wizard talking about chemicals and film crystals and shit. A Covid alumnus like me who graduated in 2019 doesn't get shit, and 2020 graduates didn't even get to bask in the delusion that they were ever the center of the world. I just pray UBI is installed before the robots take our land and our animals, because truly the new generation of digital creatives is going to feature some of the dumbest people to ever rank through society. Which is true in any era, but what's unique about ours is that young people are no longer angry, just cynical like they were in the 70s. Another round of hypernormalization.
**My Problem(s)
I need the experts here to just assume that I don't want to do things the right way. Every single person who has ever posted a query to Reddit, complex or one Google Search away, every single on of us cursed posters imagines that someone will waltz into their thread and provide an unheard of fix. Jesus take the wheel! I will provide more information on my specific issues, maybe even some idiosyncratic fixes I have found (Thank you Klutz GPT! But fuck you also.) but only if you show you're not going to snarkpost. Until then I will leave you to wade through the coagulated shit stew that is this post.
This is basically the situation with the people becoming editors and motion designers. Thanks Youtube. Thanks Twitch. You ruined Cinema more than capeshit did. Special shout out to the editors in the Philippines running their Macs through literal fruits Just as Mr. Jobs intended. (Don't worry, I'm from a country that is actually dogshit, the Philipines is beautiful and extraordinarily culturally rich)
The Jungle people here to take our jobs! Why aren't we worried about them like we are AI? They can do literally any job. And they can do it poorly. Literally exactly like AI, but no one getting their underwear in a twist when they're browsing the World section on Upwrok.
Don't get me started on what the Ruskiys are doing. You've seen Russian social media, but do you understand what Russian creatives are doing? Absolutely nothing, because Russian creatives don't exist. At best they can reform and reclaim their Orthodoxy in Siberia before coming back to St. Petersburg and writing some of the greatest novels known to man (which some of the absolute most dogshit interpretations and translations ever produced of any Western texts that are even close to the Canon)
Anyway, people like me are going to be around more and more. It's me you're going to be responding "CC Marvel Effect huahua" while the Gen Alpha nicotine tweaker blows clouds into your PC's air vents. Cloud bitch! You're fucked, because the anxiety from vaping makes him lazy as fuck. We are going to starve all because these fuckers got into too much of a dopamine deficit huffing shit with 5x the nicotine of cigs. If you think we're gonna take your jobs now, just wait until I grow my third arm. I will take your job. And when I grow my third cock, I will take your wife.
**I am a "creative director", that's how I market myself at least. I work in a lot of industries, make a shit ton of ads, but I think of myself primarily as a (documentary) filmmaker and editor (at this point it may be a formality and nostalgia because people just want reels and I like money).
I began packaging documentary projects with commercial packages, so the idea has been to first tell someone I'll make a doc for them, but along the way I can use the extra edits and unused interviews or just any of the millions of unused bits of a documentary/reality project and recycle it into ads.** You wouldn't believe how well this works on someone with a little bit of ego and a little bit of money. Netflix really convinced the chuds that their life is like a documentary lol. It's okay, not everyone can monetize their passion, or have it ripped out of their hands to transform itself from quasi art (or something challenging art) to a glorified mouthpiece for mediocre wannabes and has-beens. Bring back the Birth of the Nation or that movie about the Nazi architecture, Will, Will, what was it called? Anyway, I really thought I was going to make shit about dictators or like some genuinely awful people. Instead I got all of the delusion and none of the murder, just a bunch of whining about Instagram follower counts and the "blacklist" (I really wish they'd post a sign up, because I don't want to be seen. For real.)**
** I won't claim expertise as a motion designer. And for the sake of all that is holy you can and should call me a highfalutin dilettante with talent to produce nothing except derivative drivel (I mean, I I told you I worked in documentary right?). **
**But please, please, just assume that I may just not *want* to do things the right way.** ^@
**I know I should label and rename my files. But we're way beyond that, I have become one with Solid 1, to Solid 1 + N. I am going to get last in my comps and no I'm not going to Shy anything because I am an ALPHA! (Seriously though if you are a talentless unorganized adhd piece of shit editor and wannabe filmmaker like me, there's a plugin called Declutter which will automatically sort your project: it offers decent customization that could be helpful if you are just torpedoing a bunch of Linked Comps into AE like we're in the Pacific Theater. But with this magic hack, all those dismembered and charred bits of corpse gets insta sorted into the proper bin! And now your project panel doesn't look like shit and you can screen record while you troubleshoot some issues with an Adobe representative without feeling embarrassed. (maybe if he see it, we can get some sorting function that automatically puts comps in a specific folder (or files of any type into a pre-ordained folder, either in Pr or Ae would be cool. It's not like there are a million plugins that do the exact same shit. I'd rather anime ai waifu available at the click of a button though. What will the Gooners' do if we ever dare stop production?!?1
**Every problem I have had could be improved or entirely eliminated with a proper workflow solution. I am like really painfully aware of that. **
**I have shat blood figuring out how to make Pr Pro work consistently. That's my main app yo. I've genuinly poured hours into unlearning and relearning how to do things. I hope I can like put together an advanced guide some day. But like what's the point if the client who thinks he wants an editor actually wants to see his name and his logo animated in 10 different ways? And you know, I used to be content to produce that auto shit. But the more I animate, the more keyframes I ease (if you tell me you can ease in Pr I am going to smack the shit out of you unless it's to reccomend this
Frankly, AE is such a shitshow. It's old as fuck in a way that none of the other major apps are. Like Photoshop feels stuck in the 90s in the same way but at least its code isn't fucked beyond belief and it's relatively easy to diagnose problems (maybe you need to put more thought into performance for something that generates 24 images a second, but who knows? Not Adobe. Btw, wtf is up with caches in PS? Why are they so fucking greedy for all my data. Fuck you I want space and to have you open in the background. Seriously PS is old and I feel like no one points it out because you can just use Illustrator but fuck that I can't draw mfer)**
**I am going to be spending the next three weeks making animations for about 50 reels, to pair with some other branding deliverables for Youtube and the client's website. It's a huge project and one that I scored by advertising a diverse skill set (I apologize to the specialists but we're all going to have to adjust to foreigners in our lands — if you're American this should sound like a founding ideal more than a problem).
Or so I get the job done: don't get me wrong I cringe when people come in here and ask about making AE faster and it's clear they know nothing and didn't even bother to Google. I have Googled and spent a lot of frustrating hours trying to make shit work that just didn't work.**
Ultimately, if I don't slap on effects until I have the bulk of my animation rendered, and avoid working in 3d for no reason and tread carefully when I do, then I should be good.
But I love the 3D camera. As a filmmaker it's probably my favorite tool in AE because there's actually somewhat transferable skills or a demand for vision (and when Pr's shitty AI takes off and filmmaking becomes glorified prompt writing everyone is going to stop asking for real cameras anyway so might as well accept my fate right now and bin my C70 next to all of the piece of shit analog cameras no one uses anymore and just buy as many 3d camera plugins and softwares as I can, right? Right?! Hello Cinema 4D 8) ). Parallax is fucking awesome bro. I want to receive joy when I work, so ya I'll throw on deep glow and SS3. Am I a terrible person? Probably. I just want you to know, before you offer me solutions, that I want to have my cake and eat it too and frankly I am going to give you snark if you solve one problem but create another.
(for some reason) continued in the comments. Tbh the comment is more useful than this post. I'm just having a bad day guys and retreating into words to escape my problems.

just wondering if anyone has either of these products and would recommend them. we are looking for a bedside bassinet that pulls up to the parents' bed.
we are second time parents, had a hand me down arms reach co sleeper with our first. unfortunately it was located in a water damaged basement and i'm not sure i feel safe using it anymore. and anyways i think it does contain flame retardants due to the age of the product (i checked their website).
i love the babybay, but now i'm thinking it seems so large and clunky, the newton might be a better choice. i contacted them and they said it is free of flame retardants, and it is also greenguard gold certified. thoughts?

Book One: Edge of Madness - Chapter One Previous Next
I could pretend to be a whore. That's what Masutap thought as she stood before the gate leading to the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Pretense was a thing she indulged in back when she'd been an ordinary woman, with ordinary ambitions. But as of now, things had changed. Things had changed drastically, for she was now a champion of the Goddess of Order. A champion who would do anything in her power to mock the very being that fed her power.
Power, yes. It was what she felt. Every time her eyes turned upon the world, she saw Order. Like bees in a hive, working towards a similar objective. Survival. Yes, they all wanted to survive. And that's where the power lay, in her ability to deny a thing's chance at survival, for when her eyes flashed red, things died.
"Pardon me sir." A man dragging a cart of coal said. She was standing in his way, she knew this of course, she'd known it since the time he'd decided to deliver the coal. She saw the strings of prophesy in the smallest of things, and oh what power lied in discernment, to see the past and the future in absolute clarity, the secret lay in following strands of Order. The Highlord of the Eastlocal always received a cart of coal at around this time every fifth day. He would serve as her witness. Coal. She smiled, remembering how Orgeeg had managed to penetrate into the Palace of Binoria, on a stack of coal. She recalled how Orgeeg thwarted her plans, then she remembered how small her plans had been.
"Pardon me... Uh lady?" She removed her cowl as the Coal merchant spoke. Her hair was longer now, she'd let it grow, it dangled askew of her ears. Dark and rich as her mother's once was. Masutap smiled at the man whose face was caked in coal dust.
"Today Shama dies! Tonight the Highlord of the EastLocal is no more!" Masutap said.
Twin daggers she had strapped to her waist were suddenly in her hands. The coal merchant stumbled back several steps, dragging the cart with him. The sun was dipping into the horizon, becoming a smeared red smudge upon the canvas of her perception. Her eyes flashed red, and the smeared smudge's light brightened, blanketing everything, making her see.
She spun and threw the dagger in her left hand. The knife whirled in the air and met the throat of a guard who was just cresting the upper walkway of the gate, he wore red leather that marked him as one of the royal guards of the Highlord. A shout sounded. The guards at the gate turned their attention to her. They were six of them, each of them dazed with the slow reception of understanding. The bubble they lived in, understanding it enabled her to see how blind humanity is. Like sheep, no wonder the Vigons ruled them so easily.
She was in their midst before they drew their swords from their scabbards. She drove the dagger into the throat of the first one, danced in a pirouette, thrust free the dagger and hurled it into the throat of another guard. Her hands were free, she curled her fingers into fists.
The Goddess Meena, Goddess of Order, spoke to her. **What is the purpose of this?*
"Oh, you'll see." Masutap said and drove a fist into the chest of one guard, her hand caved through the chest cavity, snapping the spine in half and emerging free of the Guards back. She paused for effect, the three remaining guards gawked at her. She pried her arm free of the corpse and met their panicked gazes. "Sound the alarm, you're too few to make me sweat. I need all of you. Gods! Come on you fucking cowards!"
Two of the three guards charged her, one took a swing at her head with a flat blade, the sharp edge missed her by a hair's breadth as she ducked. She brought up her knee and connected with the man's groin, raising him off the ground, legs held apart, face contorted in pain. He collapsed on the ground with a squeal akin to that of a dying rabbit. The other guard put on a stance of Grind, legs parted, right foot before the left. Knees bent. He brandished his sword before him, and the guard behind him ran off to sound the alarm. Masutap smiled.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He slept on a bed filled with whores. Talisi women with their dark skin and white hair, Remu women with their sandy peppered hair and copper skin, Binorian women with their blonde hair and pale milky skin. He was their God and they flocked to him in worship. He owned all of them, from the frailest to the most able bodied. From the smartest to the daftest. They were all his.
The Highlord of the Eastlocal observed the head of the Talisi woman resting on his thigh, her breathing was deep, her dark naked breasts rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Five other women slept around him, each as beautiful as the last.
Of all the men in the realm, I alone am the honored one. Shama thought. He caressed his bulging belly with his pudgy fingers the size of sausages. His appearance did pass as grotesque. Bloated, balding with a cleanly shaven head, wide of girth and bow legged. Yet, no man has conquered the bodies of women as he had done. Women who lusted after tall handsome men. Women who sought capable men with astounding intelligence. They all gave in to him, none could deny him and when they did, well, there were ways to make them yield.
An orgy at noon. That was the gist of it, and another orgy before the midnight bell. Life was good, life was beautiful. Shama had thought that after the death of King Vayin Vigon in the hands of the infamous Kolotian, Ishar, that his wealth will dwindle, that his status will come down a step. That the might of Binoria will be a fickle thing after their first loss at war. But of course, this wasn't to be. The Queen, Dahli Vigon, had received the blessing of Meena, passed down from her father. As long as one with the Jojoh Meena, the blessing of Meena, still ruled, then things will stay as they've always been. Dahli had taken over, ensuring that Binoria didn't fall into anarchy, ensuring the Vigon name remained revered. The beautiful blonde haired girl was now the most potent soul upon the realm. How he longed to have her in his bed, parting those pale thighs sinuated with muscle. She'd become quite the fair lady. And her presence oozed power.
Shama wanted her but a thought kept his desires at bay. She'd frowned at him at the recent Highlords meeting with the throne. Apparently, his tastes and businesses didn't bode well with her. The selling of flesh, that is what he partook in with the zeal of a drowning man reaching for a floating oar. Importing women from all over the realm, some came willingly, others reluctantly. But in the end they all came. Their dignity thrown away for the promise of gold vigons. They filled the whore houses and men flocked to them in throngs, lining his pocket with gold vigons
It was his inventiveness that brought him to the top, the Highlord of the Eastlocal was once a position few envied. But his eye, trained in the art of commerce, enabled him to transform the east of Binoria. Creating a network that not only benefited him, but also the crown. And in so doing, despite her frowns and her reluctance to treat with him, she still couldn't voice her displeasure. Dahli needed him, she needed him for the coin necessary to maintain her position upon the crown. To line the pockets of her Legions. She needed him, and one day he will have her. No woman can deny him, and if they did, there were ways to make them give in.
Suddenly, the twin oak doors leading to his bed chambers flew open. The Captain of the Red Guard, in charge of his safety, Shang, walked in. "Highlord." He said with a bow, the women around him stirred. Outside, a bell started ringing, slowly at first then with extreme vigor. Something is wrong. Shang's obvious panic was clear to see. The opened door allowed him to see several Red guards crowded at the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Shama asked, his beady eyes on Shang. An inhuman scream sounded somewhere within the fortress. Shama's blood chilled in his veins.
"There's an intruder." Shang said while ravaging through the clothes on the floor. He lifted a red jerkin, two sizes too large, the right size for the Highlord. He threw it at Shama and the Highlord hastened to put it on. He ignored the bewildered looks of the naked whores.
"Intruders or intruder?" Shama asked as Shang led him out of his bed chambers. Another scream sounded, closer. The guards at the door, seven of them, crested around him as Shang led the way.
"A woman, she's alone." Shang said.
Shama gripped Shang's arm, halting him. "What do you mean by this? A singular woman causing... causing... this?"
"She's..." Shang hesitated.
"Speak! You fool!"
"She seems to be inhumanly strong and fast. I only saw her fight through a blockade of my brothers, without a sword. She tore my brothers— the Red Guards, to pieces." Shang's eyes became glazed, as if his mind was replaying the mayhem he'd bore witness to. Shama let go of his arm. The trembling was taking him again, starting at the soles of his feet, up his spine around his neck to his hands. It had been so long since he felt this, the animalistic fear confounded on the existence of an unknown, an unknown that sought to see him dead.
"Captain, what is your course of action?" Shama asked.
Shang seemed to shake himself free of his trance. "We're going to take you to the stables, get you on the fastest steed and—" A scream echoed through the halls of the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Checking everyone in place.
"What of provisions?"
"There's no time." Shang said. He drew a flat blade from the scabbard at his side. The Guards all around mimicked him, the rustling of steel could be heard, and there, at the Western end of the fortress, screams sounded.
Shang started a brisk walk towards the East end of the Fortress. His boots, soles lined with metal, clancked upon the ground. Shama shuffled close behind Shang, panting like a mare in heat. The Red Guards around him stole glances to their rear, sweat woven with fear formed a sleek mask upon their startled faces. And in those eyes Shama was able to weigh how dire matters were.
A shout sounded from ahead, bringing Shang to an abrupt stop. "How—" His words caught in his throat as a woman caked in blood and gore emerged from the bend linking the hallway they were in to another hallway that led to the stables.
She stood before them and spread out her bloody fingers at Shama. "Highlord, nice to meet you." She waved. "Say, I hear you can show a woman a good time and I'm in quite the mood for a good time tonight."
Shama trembled, the woman seemed vaguely familiar. The angles of her cheekbones , that nose, those eyes. She resembled Dahli.
"Moran and Jesul to me!" Shang commanded. Two of the guards behind Shama moved forward to flank Shang on either side. "Employ any forms, ensure I get close to her so I may employ the form of Awe."
Awe— the grappling technique that ensured the limbs were pinned. Shama saw Shang's ploy. He needed to contain the woman so Shama could move past them and head for the stables. Shama cursed himself for the design of his fortress that allowed for only one route to the stables.
Shang, Moran and Jesul raised their broad swords. One raising it above the head in a form of Rage, the other bringing the blade level with his face in the form of Pride. Shang lowered his blade and the guards flanking him charged, he followed close behind. The woman let out a cry that could only be translated as one of glee. She charged them.
Moran brought his sword down on the woman but she slid on her knees, allowing momentum to push her beyond the reach of his blade. Jesul thrust at her, raising his right leg and angling the sword downwards at her face. But the woman dodged, spun upon the ground on the small of her back and kicked Jesul's leg from under him. Jesul fell and as he raised his head he met with the woman's fist, there was a loud crunch as his face caved in. His hand let go of the sword as his body became limp.
Shang saw the opening and dived at the woman before she could stand. The woman spread her arms wide, welcoming. Shang pounced but instead landed on the woman's upraised knees, she grabbed his leather armor by the collar and flung him behind her and onto Moran. Both of them collapsed on the ground.
She stood up and smiled at Shama.
"Who are you?" Shama asked.
"I'm Masutap, the sister of Queen Dahli." The woman answered.
"Men! Turtle formation! Swords out, save the Highlord! Move you fools!" Shang said as he picked himself up from the ground behind Masutap.
The men around Shama compacted closer. Their swords pointing at Masutap who regarded them with a smirk upon her face. They inched forward, hesitantly at first, then with confidence as they saw their Captain pick up his sword. They all came to a stand still when the eyes of the woman glowed a fierce red, as if she held the Jojoh Meena. And Shama, the Highlord of the Eastlocal, trembled before her gaze.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Intuition, the immediate cognition without the use of conscious rational processes. It was simple for her, she dodged the sword thrusts and swipes easily. She turned either way, always beyond reach of the blades, always within striking distance. Her strength was a thing of beauty, somehow her frail wrists held the power necessary to crush a throat and crush a throat she did. She didn't tire, she didn't require forms of combat. The power of the Goddess of Order coursed through her veins and with it came rejuvenation.
The Red Guards pounced on her, seeking to put in place the form of Awe. But their efforts were in vain, she side stepped them easily, always on her feet. She saw an opening and like a river emptying into the Rankf sea she took it, delivering a punch to the side of a Guard's chest, feeling as ribs broke and punctured the lung.
**What is the purpose of this?* The Goddess Meena spoke within her mind. An ever present being whose words sought to throw her off, to calm the tempest raging within her. Masutap didn't want calm, she wanted fire and brimstone, she wanted Binoria to burn so their precious Queen will rule nothing but ash. She decreed this with a war cry, plunging into the midst of the Red Guards. She kicked two, flinging them across the hallway. One thrust with his blade but she caught it between her arm and side, she twisted the blade free of his grasp, gripped the hilt and decapitated the man in one swift motion.
She parried a strike to her left, danced free of two thrust then brought the blade down onto a Guard's head. She felt as the blade bit bone and she wasted no time in pulling it free. **What is the purpose of this?* Meena asked once more.
Masutap took three steps back to widen her periphery. "An inferno." She said as she flexed her sword hand. Suddenly, the Guard who was definitely their Captain, reached into the mass of clustered Guards pressed to the wall, away from her. And pulled the Highlord free of the men surrounding him.
"Form a blockade!" He screamed as he tagged and pulled at the distraught Highlord, leading him towards the end of the hallway. The remaining Guards blocked her vision of them. Like a fool she'd been too enthralled by the battle, allowing the Highlord to slowly slip past her, cocooned in the safety of the Guards in their turtle formation. He was making clear his escape and somehow, this aroused her, blowing upon an ember lodged deep within her until it sparked.
**What is the purpose of this?* Like a parrot, the Goddess repeated her question.
"An inferno." Masutap answered and lunged.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He was sweating profusely, his breath caught in his throat, causing him to choke on air. He followed Shang, feeling the Captain of the Red Guard's displeasure at his inability to keep up. They descended a flight of stairs, taking three at a time. He almost collapsed but the Captain steadied him.
"Not far now my Lord. Just at that bend before us." Shang said. They took the bend and ran clear of the fortress. The horses were just ahead, they rushed to them. Shama took delight in the open air. The stables were void of people, Shama wondered where the stable hands were. They entered the stable and Shang dragged him to the first cubicle on the right where a saddled horse stood.
Shama hastily climbed onto the saddle with the aid of the Captain. Shang placed his Highlord's feet in the stirrups and moved to flank the horse. "Lord." He said, fighting for solid ground that will enable his words to come forth easily. "It has been an honor to serve under you." Shama smiled but his smile proved too little a gesture to carry the weight or their current predicament. "Ride hard for the Capital, ensure the Queen knows of all that's gone down here. I will stay back and hold her for as long as I can." Shang concluded with a crisp salute. The Highlord nodded and with the guidance of his captain upon the horse's reins, they exited the stable "She is a good steed, see the mark of her coat? She can take you far." Shang said once free of the stables. A scream sounded from within the fortress, horrid in its guttural screech. "Go now my Lor—" Shang's words died in his mouth as an explosion erupted at the first floor of the fortress, stone parted, breaking as easily as a clay vase, the window panels and the glass set in place erupted outwards with the stone. Three figures tumbled free of the eruption, tangled in the air, twisting with the fall. They landed, the woman on her feet, knees bent and a fist pressed to the ground, the other two guards lay insensate upon the ground, their bodies a mangled mess. Shang slapped the horse's hide and Shama took of in a gallop.
The Highlord turned back, watched as the woman rose free of the debri and charged Shang. The captain employed a form of Grind but the Highlord's view was hindered by a sharp turn around the cobblestones towards the gate of his fortress. The blood and bodies upon the ground unsettled the horse, forcing its pace to be more hurried and Shama was all the more grateful for it.
She has the Jojoh Meena! Shama thought with awe as the horse broke free of the fortress in a quick gallop that had him bouncing upon the saddle. His thighs felt the brunt force of his escape but he could do nothing but hold on for dear life. This is what I'm reduced to, at the end of the line dependency thrives, in old age your children are those you depend on. I never thought I'd come to rely on anyone throughout my life. Yet here I am, depending on a horse to save my skin. He turned his head back and heaved a sigh of relief. The fortress was dwindling within his periphery, he had made quick his escape. Shama will live to see another day. And when the sun rises and sets, I will bring judgment upon the woman whose very existence rivals my own. Masutap. I will hunt her, she will know no safety within the realm, she will never know peace or a good night's slee— Something unnerved him. There, at the entrance to the fortress, a figure appeared. Following the path charted by his horse. She hopes to outrun my horse? He tilted his head back and laughed. There is faith and delusion and she seems to be enamored by both. To think her capable of outrunning a horse. What a fool what a— His thoughts halted when he turned back, his mouth dropped, his jaw hanging loose. Masutap was catching up, he did not know how but she was gaining on him. She'd been a speck in the distance, barely visible against the backdrop of the fortress. But now her features were getting more defined and her limbs, they were a blur as she pushed forward with inhuman speed.
Panic drove Shama into action, he kicked his heels at the horse's flanks. Willing it to go faster. "Run you fool! Run!" He was frothing at the mouth as the horse went downhill, cutting his view of the one in pursuit. He gripped harder at the reins and screamed, slapping the horse's neck. He looked back to see Masutap emerge upon the hill and start a quick descent after him. He thought about guiding the horse into the wilderness and thought against it seeing that a gallop won't be possible with trees in the way. His only hope was in outpacing her for surely, even one with the Jojoh Meena must tire. He hoped Masutap would relent, he hoped her bloodlust would have proved sated by the guards who'd met their end by her. He hoped that he would live to see the sun climb into the sky one more time. Darkness was setting in and suddenly thoughts of the sun and it's warmth sprouted a yearning within him that made him weep. He turned his head back, she was a hundred paces away. The horse was tiring, it's gallop lazed in vigor. This is the end then, all those afternoons spent indoors hosting orgies. I should have spent them beneath the sun, I should have spent them in the sun He looked back once more, his horse barely keeping pace. The horse threw a shoe and Shama was flung off it. He tumbled onto the ground, his weight rested upon his twisted knee, the sharp pop of the joint led him into an anguished wail. The horse screamed, its fore limbs oddly twisted. The horse thrashed upon the ground and Shama rolled away. He felt weak, he felt defeated and most of all, he felt hopeless.
He lay there, watching the sky, the moon was up, barely half of it adorned the night. He wished it had been full, all those nights when he'd regarded the sky as one would a thing of no consequence. Now he found himself wishing he'd appreciated it more. In the end regrets rule the mind, for in its dying wails no sound of gratitude can be heard.
She came and stood above him, her face blocking the view of the sky. She breathed loudly and for a moment the only sounds around them were from the injured horse and her.
"Dahli will come for you." He opined despite the throbbing pain within his twisted leg.
"Shama, darling," Masutap said as she lowered herself to lie beside him. She chuckled. "Darling, that word. The Goddess Meena loves that word. She uses it a lot. I find it distasteful yet here I am. Calling you darling."
"I have not time for pleasantries." Shama interjected. "Cut my throat and be done with it."
Masutap sighed. "That's not a creative way to kill someone you know. No, how many women have suffered pain beneath you? I have to give answer to that and that means a show. I will drag you to your fortress, there I will strip you naked and castrate you. I will feed you your cock as the women whom you took advantage of watch. Then we'll douse you in Rankf Oil and set you alight."
Shama started weeping. And a new voice joined the fray, he wept, she heaved and the horse screamed.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
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“This geriatric bunch in cold sleep?”
“Affirmative. But their records show that they have been in cold sleep multiple times. They should respond quickly to the resuscitation procedure.”
“But, why? Wouldn’t it be more merciful to leave them in stasis while the Jaxorians intercept us?”
“Yes, but Allyson says that these individuals are the ones who might get us out of this situation.”
“The Terran engineer? You’re trusting her?”
“In a zero-sum analysis, her suggestions have net positive outcomes.”
“Just for the record, I think this is a bad idea.” A pause. “Resuscitation sequence activated.”
“Duly noted. Alert me when they are awake.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
William Exeter hated the feeling of coming to after cold sleep. While the modern systems were better than those he first encountered, he still felt like his muscles were infused with lead and that he was suffering from a hangover that he never got the enjoyment of deserving. But hopefully this would be one of the last times he would ever have to use the procedure, and he could finally settle down.
As the capsule’s lid slid back, harsh light assaulted William’s eyes, and he squinted in an attempt to lessen the pain. The silhouette of a triangular head above him let William know that a Dravitian was checking on him. He swallowed and got his voice working so he could croak out, “I’m up, I’m up.”
“Ah, Mr. Exeter, yes? I am…” The insectoid started to come into better view to the Terran’s adjusting eyes. “Captain? Yes, Captain of this ship. I am… We all are in need of assistance.”
“Uh, what?” William’s croaking voice hid some of his annoyance. “Yeah, I’m Exeter. But if you’re going to get my help, you’re going to have to get me a Jolt. I’m still half asleep from the drugs.”
The Dravitian’s head tilted to the side in an obvious gesture of confusion, “You require an electrical discharge?”
And this was why William hated waking up among aliens. He had to explain everything to them. “A drink. ‘All the sugar and twice the caffeine.’ Bah!” He started to force his muscles into action and pushed up on his elbows, “Just get me a goddamned stimulant, okay?”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Of course!” The Dravitian’s head disappeared as the insectoid moved over to a wall-mounted workstation.
William turned his head and saw several other cold-sleep capsules with their lids open. He cleared his throat and then called out, “Venture crew, sound off...”
“Here!”
I hear you, Bill.”
From a nearby capsule there was a dry coughing, but a hand in a ‘thumbs-up’ gesture rose in response.
“Well, good, I won’t have to suffer alone.” William turned his head again and looked over the other closed capsules, “But they didn’t wake everyone, so something’s up. Try to shake this shit off and get ready, okay?”
There were murmurs of ascent and more dry coughs from the other capsules.
The Dravitian come back from the workspace and addressed William, “Stimulant beverages and some cakes are on their way, Mr. Exeter. While I know that you are still under the effects of the stasis pharmaceuticals, I do need to apprise you of our need. You know of the Jaxorians, yes?”
William’s brow furrowed, “What, those crab-guys who go around in those water-suits? Didn’t we beat them in that big war?”
The Dravitian pulled back a little, “It was a negotiated settlement, I believe, but yes, your descriptive words adequately fit the Jaxorian physiology.” He paused, “Well, the Jaxorians, and their rulers the Drasalites, are once again at war, and we are now targets. I would not have woken you , but our Terran engineer was sure that you could help.”
William frowned and shook his head, “We should have finished them once and for all when we had the chance, but we have to let the Soviets fail as Soviets, don’t we?” He sighed, “And we’re humans, dammit. Homo sapiens sapiens by fuckin’ scientific classification. We once lived on Terra, but our genus and species doesn’t change when we move to another-” He noticed the paling colors on the edges of the Captain’s chitinous facial plates and stopped his Duckman-esque rant, “Look, nevermind. How much time do we have?”
The insectoid paused, as if surprised be the direct question. “We estimate a cycle, if our engineer’s modifications to the engines hold. Our speed has been dramatically increased, but the Jaxorian ships still gain slowly. We will eventually be within the effective range of their weapons. Please, direct us.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
After some of the greasy-spoon diner-ish coffee and the supermarket quality yeast-raised, honey-glazed donuts, the four Terrans looked and felt better. William glanced at his colleagues, noting the wear of time on their bodies. He chuckled as the slightly altered movie quote of ’It’s not the years, it’s the light-years’ ran through his mind. But they’d been together ‘asleep’ much longer than they’d been awake, and they’d spent more of their ‘awake’ lives together than apart.
Tony Scarpetti’s pudgy fingers tipped his cup almost upside down as he tried to get the last drops of the coffee and granulated sugar sludge into his mouth. His once black hair was now mostly white, and his tough physique that ran circles around them on the soccer field had shrunk a bit, though he was still stocky.
Peter Hoffman had finally gotten control of his coughing, and was munching on ‘just one more’ donut, and William once again wondered where Peter fit all the food he ate in that short, diminutive frame. His signature mohawk had been fluffed up with fingers, but lacking styling gel and a razor to clean up the stubble that had grown out in cold sleep, it ended up looking more like a peaked mound than the sharp style that Peter would have usually rocked.
Alex (AJ) Johnson’s hair had finally receded so much that his braid only held back reddish hair from behind his ears, though his scraggly beard was long enough that he could probably have braided it as well. Always tall and gangly, his frame seemed a little more gaunt than William remembered, though it had been almost a decade of cold-sleep travel since they had last seen each other.
“Hey, Doctor Exeter?”
William turned his head toward the voice, and looked at the young woman with blonde hair striding toward the table where the four sat around their coffee and donuts. Her utilitarian grey coveralls had scorch-marks and grime all over, and there was some of the same on her exposed hands and face, but bright teeth were visible in her smile.
William nodded, “You must be the plucky human engineer who got us woken up before our alarm went off, huh?”
The woman nodded, still smiling widely and, as she got over to the table, thrust out her hand toward William in the manner of one who just remembered something. “Yeah, sorry about that, Doctor. I’m Allyson, and I’m the only Terran on the ship. Besides you guys, that is.”
William took the extended hand and shook it, being a little more gentle than he usually would have been, given the way that the woman’s grip and lack of fluid motion showed that she wasn’t experienced in shaking hands as a greeting ritual. But she had looked it up, and that counted for something. “Well, us humans have to stick together, right? You sure you want us geezers to help you out? Don’t you have some flashy alien tech to get away from these crab guys?”
Allyson grinned as the handshake seemed to go correctly and shook her head, “Well, if you had been four guys who weren’t from the Space Venture, I would have let you sleep and hoped that I could come up with some way to escape, but well… you are, and well…” She looked at the men around the table, “You guys solve problems, right?”
“Troubleshoot.” AJ corrected, his voice still a little rough. “We’re Troubleshooters. So we’re likely to be able to fix problems on the ship, but not necessarily the situation. It gives us an out on some problems…”
Allyson’s brow furrowed, but before she could say anything, William offered, “But we’ll try and get you out of this alive, okay?” He looked over toward AJ, “No need to haze the newb, ‘kay?”
AJ chuckled and nodded, going for another sip of his coffee.
Allyson looked between the two old men and shook her head. Weren’t these guys the stuff of legends? Why didn’t they act like it? But they were what she had. What the whole ship had. Oh, the ship, right. “And we don’t really have any xenotech. This is an old decommissioned TA vessel, a combat freighter, so it’s kind of structurally overbuilt for a freighter. It was the TAV Thuban, but after being bought up by a Dravitian company it’s now the CCV K’gara B’rak. That translates to something like ‘Ugly Worker Beetle’.”
William raised an eyebrow, “I thought those bugs didn’t like old ships?”
Allyson grinned, “They couldn’t build a new ship to these durability specs at anywhere near the sale price. I think that it vexes the Captain to no end.”
Tony finally set his cup down on the table, finished fighting with the sludge, and looked at at the woman with a playful grin, “Likely to be really upset once we get going, then…”
William grinned as well, “Well, we’ll get there as we get there. So, is Skynet running things here?”
The engineer blinked and cocked her head a little in her confusion, “Skynet? Um…” Her words trailed off as she tried to decipher the meaning.
William sighed, “Artificial intelligence. Is there one running the ship?”
Allyson shook off her confusion, “Oh, uh, no. Of course there are still core hook-ups, but the company didn’t recruit one. There are some smart systems, but they don’t come up to AI levels.”
William nodded, slowly and resignedly. He looked at the other older men, “Okay, so I guess I’ll be spending my time hacking while you guys get to have some actual fun.” He looked back to the engineer and started to get up out of his chair, feeling the ache in his lower back. “Well, let’s get me to a terminal, and rummage up some walkies so we can keep in contact.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
William glowered at the large touchscreen that sat angled on its adjustable armature, and muttered, “What fresh hell is this operating system?”
The Dravitian Captain at the nearby navigation station on the ship’s bridge looked over, “Sir, this is the newest release of the Efficient Interface. While you are viewing it in Terran Standard, it is optimized for the Dravitian language.”
William shook his head, “So other than these cosmetic changes that I can get to in settings, where can I actually get to control configurations?”
The Captain pulled back its head in surprise, “What? You can’t change the control configurations! They are all optimized!”
William sighed and shook his head, “You jammed the ‘economy’ button down, so we can’t get to the ‘power’ button. Right…” He tapped open the program that accessed the file storage and began examining what was there.
After a few minutes of the bridge crew watching the Terran scroll and tap and curse in a low voice, William let out a exuberant, “Got you, you bastard!” On the touchscreen, a simple text box came up, indicating that it was a Root Command Shell, with a blinking block cursor.
William’s fingers flew over the virtual keyboard on the angled touchscreen, and another window bloomed on the screen. He slid it off to the side, then continued to tap and another window popped up. He slid it off to the top corner of the screen. In each of the windows, progress bars slid slowly from one side to another, character strings rolling down past the bottom of the window, the screen indicator on the scroll bar on the side getting smaller and smaller as the list grew and grew.
The Captain leaned over from its workstation and observed the workings on the Terran’s screen, “What is all that? I’ve never seen this option in the interface.”
William chuckled, still typing commands in the first window, “Oh, it’s a command line interface. They just slapped your interface over the military OS, and that still had lots of useful modules and programs in archive. I can bypass the ‘pretty’ GUI you guys use and actually get to controls.” He paused, “Holy hell! They left a media archive in here. Let’s get that unpacked right now!”
A new window popped up on the touchscreen, with another progress bar. William brought up yet another window, and worked inside it, and the progress bars started to move across their respective windows faster.
The Captain cocked its head, “Sir, I find fault in your judgement that what we need in this situation is media. The Jaxorians are not known for their imaginative capabilities.” It paused, “And I think your tasks are slowing down the computational processors, which again, I find fault with in these circumstances.”
William chuckled, “Well, sure it will seem slower. I made all my operations high priorities for the processors. And you can’t expect us to do our best work in silence. We’ll need a good jam.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
Allyson led the three older men through the hatch into the huge engineering bay where the three reactors were lined up with the longitudinal axis of the ship. Aft of those, the floor fell away beyond a safety railing, so that the bulk of the four huge engines could be accessed by a network of ladders, platforms, and gantries. Most of the floor was clear, but here and there hatches, tools, and parts lay askew on the deck, and wires and tube of various sizes and colors snaked between components in a way that belied the hasty, jury-rigged engineering tasks that had been recently undertaken. A couple of insectoid engineers were working on maintaining parts of the unstable system.
“And this is the playground,” offered Allyson as she spread her arms to indicate the whole open area. “We’ve got four Hammond LS-V-3400 ion drives backed by three of the Niagara-class fusion reactors. I’ve, uh, removed some of the safeties on the engines and tweaked the safety specs on the reactors, so we’re making just over five percent above rated maximum speed.”
Tony walked away from the others to lean against the safety railing and take in the sight of the engines.
Peter glanced around the area, then noticed the machining and fabrication tools and sauntered over to inspect them, hands tucked in his pockets and his boots scuffing the floor.
The two Dravitian technicians looked up from their work momentarily, apraising the Terrans, but staying quiet.
AJ made his way over to the reactors, and frowned as he looked at the readouts showing that the reactors were running hot, right on the edge of red-line. “Cutting these pretty fine.”
Allyson nodded as she looked over toward the tall man and started slowly walking toward him, “Um, yeah. I couldn’t figure out a good way to get more output from the engines, so I was just trying to route more power through them. These are still safe, but they’ll be burning up the plating faster than they should.”
AJ nodded and continued perusing, leaning down to look into an open hatch and seeing how one of the patched in high-energy line had been connected.
Tony continued to watch the engines and called, “Hey, Allyson, these still work with Cherenkov dispersal for additional thrust?”
Allyson quickly changed her trajectory to veer away from reactors and back toward the engines, “Uh, yeah, they do. There are controllers in there that help to make the emissions more directional.” She got to the railing and pointed at an orange ring that was visible on each engine right near the aft bulkhead. “Those big electromags help control the dispersal. I have plans and simulations on the computer if you want to see how they work.”
Tony peered in the indicated direction, then nodded and turned toward Allyson, “Yeah, get me to a terminal with some VR goggles and I’ll take a lo-” His voice cut off at the sudden sound from the engineering bay’s speakers.
A syncopated drum beat sounded over the hum of the machinery, then came an almost gravelly yell-singing voice. ”Come on, feel the noise. Girls, rock your boys. We’ll get wild, wild, wild.”
Allyson’s surprised gaze swept up to the big speakers mounted in the corners of the room by the ceiling.
Grins and smiles grew on the faces of the three older men, and they all joined in with the words as an electric guitar sawed into being and the rest of the band added their voices to the lead singer on a response answer of “Wild, wild, wild!” And then the drums picked up and the rest of the instruments kicked in, bringing the song fully into swing.
The singer continued as Peter’s hands played air-drums over a CNC machine’s working space, ”So you think I got an evil mind. I tell you, honey, I don’t know why. I don’t know why.”
Allyson had never heard the song, but the beat was compelling, and it somehow invigorated the men in a way she hadn’t expected. Just out of cold sleep, in the midst of an inevitable chase, with such limited resources, they were singing along with smiles on their faces. AJ was tapping on a reactor interface, and Peter was almost dancing as he poked about her workbench storage space, going over her tools, a screwdriver and electric ratchet stem in his hands as drumsticks for his air-drums.
The Dravitian technicians huddled in a fearful pose at the sudden noise.
Tony grinned widely at Allyson’s surprise, and said loudly over the music, “William’s got good taste for montage music… Show me that terminal.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
The Captain looked over to the Terran’s workspace which was now exhorting somebeing to ‘get wild, wild, wild’ over and over again. It seemed to have some detrimental affect on the older Terran, as its head was bobbing up and down as it continued to work with the code. The insectoid in command just had to say something. “Excuse me, sir. Are you sure that the distracting audio stimulation is beneficial for you? It does not seem to be related to your current task …”
William glanced over at the Dravitian, “Look, bug-boy, the music keeps my endorphins up, and tricks me into thinking I still have all the energy of a teenager. You’re just lucky that I know what my crew likes, and that this archive is low on industrial music.” He pauses and types intensely, then continues, “So no, it’s not related, but if you really want a chance to get away from those crab-guys, this music tips the scales in our favor, okay?”
The Captain abruptly looked back to its console. “Affirmative answer, sir.”
William nodded to himself, and cocked his head as he read something off the screen. “So, a bunch of the cargo is plasma generators for terraforming?” He looked over to the insectoid who was pointedly not looking at him. “Are those things as dangerous as they sound?”
-=-=-=-=-=-
“Hey guys!” William’s voice echoed from the big loudspeakers in the engineering bay as the song came to an end.
“Yo boss!” Peter called up toward the ceiling from the tool bench where he had accumulated a selection of choice tools.
“I got control of the control code up here. Some of it’s military code under all this glossy shit. What have you guys got back there?”
Tony stood amidst a holographic simulation of an engine, and called out, “We got some damped down ion engines. The design is like the old McPherson Mark Five, and I think I can flare ‘em up the same way. Gimme six hours or so.”
AJ looked up toward the ceiling after Tony finished, “These fusion reactors are running flat out, Bill. I’m thinking about patching up a capacitor bank so we can push things farther, or at least have some extra power when we need it. Three or four hours, depending on how easy I can find the parts.” he paused, “And I’m officially putting in a request for you to put something dance-able on your wheel of steel.”
Peter called out, “And I’m just waiting for these slackers to tell me what they need. But I’m all tooled up for just about anything they want.” He grinned playfully at the other two.
William’s chuckle came over the speaker, “Gotcha. Those sound like good projects. We get a powerful flare, we’ve got a chance to run.” He paused, “Allyson, you there too?”
Allyson, still near the holographic engine display, had been turning her head this way and that to try and follow the conversation and understand what the forming plan of the ‘troubleshooters’ was. She forced herself to call out, “Yes, Dr. Exeter.”
William’s voice came from the speakers, “Okay, Allyson, I need you to take Pete down to Cargo Bay Three and help him uncrate all of the plasma terraforming engines you can find there. Pete, I want those things sky-side against the outer wall of Bay Two and fastened in place. If we need power for them, I want you to run a line back to AJ’s source, and it will need to be vacuum sealed. We’re likely to depressurize that bay so try not to make too many unnecessary holes, okay?” He paused, “And don’t worry, that bay has some speakers too. I won’t leave you silent …”
Peter grinned and nodded, then started to load tools onto a nearby hovercart. As he worked, he called out, “On it, boss! Do they have any Ramones or Dead Kennedys or anything with more energy in that jukebox? That’s my request, Mr. DJ.”
William’s voice carried his chuckle, “I’m on it, guys. I’ll keep you updated, you guys let me know the word. Out.”
As the beats of New Order’s Blue Monday started to bounce around the engineering bay, Peter looked over at Allyson, “Hey, give me a hand with some of this. We need to bounce!”
Allyson registered the words and jogged across the bay to the hovercart, “Sorry, sir, we have to ‘bounce’?”
Peter chuckled, still pulling tools from the bench to add to the load. “We have to get moving. Can we bring that welder and thermal lance, or is there a better option?”
Allyson let out a quiet ‘oh’, then shook her head, “There’s a backpack unit that can cut and weld. Much easier to move.” She pulled open a a nearby locker.
Peter grinned, “Oh, sweet! Are there two?”

I just got my blood drawn to have my levels checked, and theres this weird red line going down my arm towards my hand. I am not sure if I should be worried about it or not.

A while back I posted here to figure out whether my new Zowie EC1-CW was right for me, as I was having trouble adjusting after using the same Roccat Kone XTD for 8.5 years.
I'm starting to believe it's not a good fit for some reason, I suspect it's not wide enough. Whatever it is, ever since I started using it my hand and lower arm is ache-y. So just in case that stuff isn't resolved yet in a few days I'm once again looking for another wired mid-budget option, after trying the Razer Basilisk V3 and the Logitech G501 X and now the Zowie. It's such a pain, having spindly hands with crazy long, crooked fingers; 22cm long, 12cm wide.
I've found one interesting size in terms of dimensions, the Nacon GM-400L, being 42mm high, 130mm long and an amazing 82mm wide. Girthy!
The thing is; I can find precious little on this brand and its quality, and little on this mouse regardless. Maybe someone here can tell me what's up with that brand, or maybe somebody even knows something about that particular mouse and its qualities and flaws. Thanks in advance!

Author note: The Cryopod to Hell is a Reddit-exclusive story with over three years of editing and refining. As of this post, the total rewrite is 2,204,000+ words long! For more information, check out the link below:
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(Previous Part)
(Part 001)
A few days after Neil and Hope's meeting.
Henry Cliff walks alone down the hallways of the Labyrinth. He wears a purple-colored T-REX, a status symbol put in place by the higher-ups as a sign of his newfound prestige and military ranking. Its color, as well as the other new colors among the army allow for a quick idea of the ranking of any human soldier at a glance, especially among those who don't know the humans well, such as their allies for today.
Henry's feet quietly plod against the Labyrinth's compacted dirt floor. His breathing remains even despite having walked for over thirty minutes. Thanks to his newly enhanced body, he could run for a thousand kilometers without breaking a sweat. Even he isn't entirely certain just how strong he is. Perhaps, if he were to come to blows with a Demon Emperor, he might roll them out like a sleeping bag.
As he walks, Henry's newfound clarity of purpose mixes with the voices and thoughts of ten thousand other members of Jepthath's Legion. No, more accurately, they are Henry's Legion, now. While their power might be derived from Jepthath, it was the Hero-King's decision to give Henry command of them and become his Voice.
Each person who joined on that day possessed their own thoughts, feelings, and talents. Their combined cumulative experience, which could now be tapped into at will, easily amounted to more than 350,000 years. If the age of every person who merged had been 10, that would have given them 100,000 years, but the fact the average turned out to be 35 elevated their cumulative total dramatically.
And that was to say nothing of the people who had once been a part of Jepthath's Legion in the past. When Henry first became inducted into the Legion, he was shocked by just how much wisdom Jepthath possessed. While he did not have the truly unfathomable and vast breadth of knowledge Solomon possessed, Jepthath was amazing in his own way. What he lacked in raw information, he made up in with mastery of combat.
If Solomon possessed the combined cumulative knowledge of humanity, Jepthath possessed its raw hand-to-hand fighting prowess. And that served to bolster Henry's state of mind significantly.
Just by integrating into the Legion, Henry's ability to peer into the essence of combat increased ten thousand-fold. Over the last few days, he had happened to pass by several different training grounds for humanity's soldiers on Maiura, most of them having been erected at some point by Neil Adams in the past six years. Henry was not impressed by what he saw. If anything, he was disgusted.
[Their movements are so crude. So lacking in refinement.] He would often think, while conversing with the ancient Hero-King. [I want to train them. I can't stand to imagine them using their sloppy combat skills against old demon monsters.]
[A waste of time.] Jepthath would chide gently, whenever he and Henry had this conversation. [The knowledge you have obtained effortlessly cannot be communicated through words or demonstrations. The only way one can become as proficient as the members of Our Legion is by directly transferring Our combined knowledge through Our souls and minds.]
[Then we have to convince more to join Us!] Henry would exclaim. [These fools are wasting their time flailing about, trying to reinvent the wheel. If they joined Us, they would gain all of Our power in the art of war and become capable of adding to Our collective consciousness!]
Jepthath shakes his head. [I made a deal with the Wordsmith. We will not forcibly recruit anyone. If you wish to convince more to join Us, you must demonstrate Our power. Not only do you possess knowledge of countless schools of fighting, but you also possess intimate knowledge of battlefield tactics and guerrilla warfare. By demonstrating that Knowledge is Power, you can enlighten the foolish masses as to what they are missing out on.]
Henry nodded sincerely at that time. He looked up at the night sky and clenched his fist with determination.
Humanity was wasting its capabilities! If other humans only knew how small and frail they were, they would jump at the chance to join the Legion!
Less than a week before, Henry had been a disgraced soldier, a mere civilian, a person who might never even get the opportunity to shine the boots of those he had once trained with.
But now he was an officer, an elite warrior many would come to fear and respect.
This realization made his heart leap and his throat dry. In many ways, he sometimes felt he didn't deserve this position. He certainly hadn't earned it.
Not yet. Someday he would. Someday soon.
His thoughts come back to the present. He continues walking, ultimately falling into step beside an ordinary human commando also donning a T-REX. A small artistic flourish on the side of her armor, a pink rose, hints to him the other soldier might be a woman.
The grey-armored soldier turns her head to look at him as she walks. "Oh! You startled me. And you are?"
Unable to see her face, Henry looks at her helmet instead, and her name and other information pop up in his HUD, allowing him to see her identity.
"I'm Lieutenant Henry Cliff." He says. "You're Private Ashley McCarthy? Aren't you the lady who can transform into an orc?"
Immediately, her previously formal tone turns cold. Ashley snaps her head forward, no longer looking at him.
"Every time. Every time! Is that all I am anymore? Just the ugly bitch who turns into an orc?!"
"Whoa, whoa!" Henry exclaims, taken aback by her response. "I'm sorry, uh, Miss McCarthy. I didn't mean to apologize- I mean, I didn't apologize- mean to offend you! I- I uh, sorry!"
He stumbles over his words, feeling suddenly ashamed that he spoke so bluntly without considering the other person's feelings. Then again, how could he have known it was such a sore subject for her? That thought also makes him feel unfairly slighted, as he committed a blunder without meaning to.
"No, no I'm sorry." Ashley quickly says, suddenly realizing how rudely she just spoke to a superior officer. "It's not your fault, Lieutenant. I, I just... it's a long story. I never asked for this ability. I hate it."
"You hate it?" Henry asks, as they round a corner, passing a dozen goblins who carefully press against the side-wall to avoid the giant humans. "Pardon my bluntness, but why? In this time of war, possessing an orc form must make you pretty strong. Valuable. You could be on the fast-track to a higher rank if you have any ambition."
"Higher rank." Ashley mutters under her breath. "As if that's something I'd want. I'm not some big brained Terran from Old Earth. I'm just a normal girl from one of the Wild Worlds. I only want to be pointed at an enemy so I can hurt them."
That sounds an awful lot like something an orc would say, Henry thinks, but wisely keeps to himself.
"Does turning into an orc make you stronger?" Henry asks, choosing to turn the discussion down a more positive path.
"Oh, sure. A bit stronger." Ashley concedes. "You know how the Body Booster improves a human's baseline physique, putting some of us on par with certain low-ranking Demon Lords? Well, my Orc transformation stacks on that, sort of. I can pick up and throw boulders pretty far."
She pauses, before adding, "I mean, it is really fun being that strong."
Henry reaches up to rub his chin, only for his hand to clank against his T-REX's helmet. He gives up on the idea and lowers his arm again.
"I recently got a, uh, a pretty substantial boost to my strength. You remember how Commander Hope offered for people to merge with the Hero Jepthath? I did that, and it made me a lot stronger."
He turns to look at the woman beside him, but she simply gazes forward, her helmet offering no insight into her current expression.
Her words, however, definitely give away what she's thinking.
"Oh. You're one of the cultists."
Her disappointed tone makes Henry's heart skip a beat.
"No, no, no!" Henry exclaims. "Not a cultist. Who told you that?? Jepthath's Legion have simply unified Our minds and bolstered Our bodies, making Us a lot stronger."
She remains quiet for a few moments.
"Yeah... that's... what a cultist would say."
"We're not a cult..." Henry protests feebly, but his words fall on deaf ears.
This isn't the first time someone has directed a look of disgust his way, or visibly cringed when he proudly declared himself one of Jepthath's Chosen.
Jason's words during the Great Debate made a lot of people immediately strike becoming a Parahuman off their list. They'd rather be ordinary soldiers in body armor rather than part of a weird, unified hive-mind.
Dismayed, the young man falls silent. He doesn't say anything for a full minute, and perhaps feeling bad about dismissing him so easily, Ashley decides to reignite the conversation as they draw closer to their destination.
"So what's it like. Being inside a, uh... hive mind? Is it weird?"
"We're not a hive-mind." Henry says, his mood deflating even further. "We're... we're like brothers and sisters. We understand one another. We share thoughts, insights, wisdom."
This time, Ashley tries to exercise a little tact. "It just doesn't sound right for me. I guess everyone has their own preferences. Me, I think I'd die of shame if everyone around me could hear my every thought. The embarrassment alone..."
She trails off and shakes her head.
But this time, Henry doesn't just back down.
"It's not what you think at all." Henry says. "Do you know why you feel fear at the thought of sharing your thoughts? It's because you're self-absorbed."
"What?!" Ashley exclaims, pausing her walk to look at him. No doubt, her helmet hides an expression of disbelief. "What do you mean by that... sir?"
Henry also pauses. He turns to face her, resting his hands on his hips. "You have friends, right? Maybe even a best friend?"
"O-of course!" Ashley says, her tone defensive. "What, you think I'm friendless just because I'm not a part of some bee-hive?"
"That's not what I'm getting at." Henry says patiently, holding out his hand and modulating his tone so he'll come off less aggressive. "Think about your friend, or your best friend. Really think about it. What's the most embarrassing thing you remember about him or her? What's the worst social gaffe they've made that you can't get out of your head?"
Ashley pauses. She lowers her head and falls into thought for a moment.
"I don't know. I can't think of anything. Why?"
"What about other people?" Henry asks. "Has anyone else you know made any serious social fuck-ups recently?"
"Social ones? No. There have been a few generally bad events recently, like finding out Baron Mara killed a bunch of people. But she's not my friend anyway, so..."
"THAT is my point." Henry states emphatically. "You don't think about the weird and embarrassing things your friends do. So why do you believe they're so fixated on yours?"
Ashley lifts her head to look at him. She remains silent, digesting his words, so he continues to press the issue.
"Do you know why you find things about yourself embarrassing? It's not your fault. Most people are extremely self-conscious about their own insecurities. Now that I've become a part of the Legion, I experience everyone else's insecurities all at the same time as I experience mine. In doing so, I realize that mine never amounted to anything at all. When you have ten thousand other people worrying about what they're wearing, or if they look fashionable, or some other tedious bullshit, you quickly realize that all of them amount to white noise. They don't matter."
He throws his hand up dramatically.
"I'm not picking on you. It's just a fact of human consciousness. All people are held back by their fear of social pressure, but much of that is because we don't know what goes on in the heads of our fellow men and women. If you could see their deranged sexual fantasies all at once, you would realize you're not weird at all. Everyone has a kink. If you enjoy looking at gross bugs, guess what? Someone else is unbothered by bodily fluids. We're all weird, and joining the Legion just made that clearer to me."
He pauses, unable to see the look on her face. "Sorry, I hope I'm not coming off as condescending. Does any of this make sense to you?"
Ashley slowly nods. "Mmm. Yeah, it does."
Henry heaves a sigh of relief. "Well, great! Great. I was worried I was starting to sound a little long-winded."
Ashley turns away and resumes walking. "You're definitely in a cult."
"Goddammit." Henry grumbles.
...
Before long, the two of them make it to the meeting location, where they arrive inside a massive, hollowed-out area inside the Labyrinth. There, they find, of all things, a new Volgrim Warpgate installed, its destination some unknown desert on a planet Henry can't immediately identify.
As they enter the massive arena-like staging area, Hope becomes momentarily disoriented. His newly enhanced senses pick up surges of spiritual energy, all spread out across the humans, demons, monsters, and other creatures inside. The powerful Demon Emperors, only a few of whom have yet to Ascend to Demon Deity, stand near the portal, using their strength as a show of force. Despite their proud expressions, Henry's keen senses detect a hint of fear in their eyes, as they seem to be unable to properly stand as strong as they always have. It's as if they are being suppressed by something...
"Whoa!" Ashley gasps. "I can't believe it. Why are the Volgrim here?"
"The Volgrim?" Henry asks, following her gaze based on the direction her helmet is pointed.
Somewhere in the mass of the crowd, a handful of decidedly alien-looking creatures with tentacles writing under their mouths and heavily-armored bodies stand at attention, looking like proud leaders and commanders. Their postures indicate a level of arrogance bred into their bones by millions of years of dominance over the Milky Way. Compared to the slightly fearful Demon Emperors, these Technopaths truly stand out as cream of the crop, with unknown augmentations that likely elevate their combat prowess to the peak.
"Those are Volgrim?" Henry asks. "Huh. The only one I've ever seen was that one female, the one who didn't have a mouth. She was presiding over my, uh, my tribunal..."
"Your tribunal?" Ashley asks.
She pauses, then turns to look at him strangely.
"Cliff... Henry Cliff? What the- you're that traitor! What- how even...?? You're a Lieutenant now? I didn't even recognize your name- no, forget that. Why are you in uniform? Weren't you banned basically forever from rejoining the military?"
"I was banned from rejoining the main military." Henry says, lowering his head in shame. "But, uhm, Hope's Parahumans are... different. It's a different jurisdiction."
Ashley takes a step to the side, pulling away from him. He can't see her expression, but based on her voice, she suddenly seems disgusted by him.
"All this time, I was talking to him." She mutters to herself, as she turns and walks away without another word.
Henry stands there, silently. He watches her depart, a feeling of bitterness welling up in his heart. He could pull rank on her, write her up for insubordination. Given his new status as a high-ranker, it would be easy to do.
But he doesn't.
In truth, he doesn't blame Ashley for her feelings. Because of his actions, Neil Adams was captured and humanity likely lost far more people during Stormbringer as a result. He indirectly caused the deaths of hundreds, perhaps even thousands.
How can he demand respect from her when he feels he doesn't deserve it?
As that thought wells up in Henry's mind, the thoughts of the Legion feed back into him, suppressing his negative emotions. All of them comment on his feelings and insecurities, offering kind words to help him feel better.
[You cannot and should not demand respect, no, but you can earn it back through your actions.] A 52-year-old Legionnaire says. [People like her will come around in due time. Perform admirably and make the Legion proud.]
[That woman is a mere Private.] Jepthath chimes in. [Do not allow your emotions to be tangled up by the feelings of a random soldier. You will need to bolster your Willpower if you seek to reach the peak of what you can achieve.]
[Right. My willpower.] Henry says, as his mood drastically swings back up. He hardens his heart, casting aside Ashley's comment and instead meditating for a moment to clear his mind. [Thank you, everyone, for the support.]
With his thoughts clear, Henry strides toward the front, keeping his gaze fixed on the Volgrim Technopaths. Having never seen these creatures before, he finds their horrid-looking tentacle mouths fascinating and yet creepy to look at. While all of them appear to be gender-ambiguous, certainly at first glance, as he comes closer, he does manage to make out one or two female-sounding voices among them. Or perhaps they might be higher-pitched males. He isn't entirely sure, and it seems a taboo subject to breach.
"-the Task Force will be working alongside these Technopath Envoys." Demon Emperor Yardrat says, his tone even and unbothered by the Technopaths to his left. "Naturally, full command of this operation will still go to the Archdemon, as the ranking Cosmic. However, because he will be busy dealing with the highest level threats, control of the ground forces will go to one member of each species, chosen via several votes of consensus. Today's operation is a test, and its purpose is to ensure we all work together properly. NO friendly fire. Our enemy is the Plague and nobody else. Save your personal grievances, vendettas, and petty squabbles for after we take our galaxy back from the Kolvaxians."
He gestures to the ten Technopaths. "The Volgrim have dispatched an army of 100,000 Technopath soldiers, and they will be commanded by this High Technopath named Loputo Jidelor, a high ranking commander of Clan Symmetra's ground forces."
Each of the Technopaths possesses their own combination of flesh and blood bodily parts mixed with metal limb replacements, armor-addons, and other such things. In Jidelor's case, he stands on two flesh and blood legs. However, in place of his right arm is a long, metallic limb with dozens of razor-thin threads waving to and fro where his 'wrist' ends. Each one moves independently, much like the tentacles on his left arm, but their movements appear far more precise. Dozens of metallic pieces are attached seemingly at random to his skin and skull.
Jidelor nods. "I am an experienced battlefield commander, but I am not a frontline soldier. I will be controlling our siege weaponry and directing our soldiers from the back."
Yardrat nods, then continues. "For the Demons, it goes without saying that just like with the last ten operations, Emperor Serena will be commanding our forces. Her ability to link souls together has proven instrumental in rapid battlefield communications, and her ability to sense souls allows her to keep up with the emergence of new Plagueborn until the point Diablo steals the world core back."
A beautiful demoness with sightless eyes nearby waves her hand delicately. "I will be in your care, everyone. Let us make it to the end without losing any demons this time."
"For the monsters, Fairy Princess Melia will take point." Yardrat says, nodding to another beautiful woman with green hair, fairy wings, and a look of boredom permanently etched onto her face.
Unlike the previous two commanders, Melia doesn't give a speech. In fact, she only rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, and looks away.
"Alright, and for the humans, General Chadwick will be taking charge." Yardrat concludes. He gestures to a massive Norwegian man who has now donned a Rhino T-REX variant and rests his hands around the shaft of a massive battleaxe. Its head rests on the ground, and he supports his massive armored frame by resting on the weapon's handle.
"Everyone." Chadwich says. "It is my honor to lead this mission. Naturally, Commander Neil is not happy about having to work with the demons, and I cannot imagine all of our soldiers are either. However, I pledge on Hope Hiro's honor that we will not commit any cowardly deeds of treachery, any backstabbing, or anything else of that sort! It was Hope Hiro who pushed for this arrangement because he wants humanity's soldiers to get real battle experience against the Plague. Let's be sure to make good use of this time to bury as many hatchets as we can!"
The crowd nods along to Chadwick's words. Some of the humans vocalize their approval, but many more remain silent.
The humans here are not normal civilians. They are military personnel, countless many of whom have not forgiven the demons. They may never forgive them, if their leaders are being honest.
Perhaps sensing the tenseness in the air, Yardrat briskly moves the pace along.
"In thirty minutes, we will begin. Transfer your forces to my world so that I can begin preparation to open the Intragalactic Portals. The Swarm has begun adapting to my tactics of late, so the moment those portals open, we'll need boots on the ground. No delays! If the Plague has its way, it might flood through the portals back to us, and that would be a whole bloody devil-damned mess."
The other leaders nod solemnly. They spread apart to talk to their forces, and Henry heaves a sigh.
In thirty minutes, we'll find out just how stable this alliance truly is.

A few days after Neil and Hope's meeting.
Henry Cliff walks alone down the hallways of the Labyrinth. He wears a purple-colored T-REX, a status symbol put in place by the higher-ups as a sign of his newfound prestige and military ranking. Its color, as well as the other new colors among the army allow for a quick idea of the ranking of any human soldier at a glance, especially among those who don't know the humans well, such as their allies for today.
Henry's feet quietly plod against the Labyrinth's compacted dirt floor. His breathing remains even despite having walked for over thirty minutes. Thanks to his newly enhanced body, he could run for a thousand kilometers without breaking a sweat. Even he isn't entirely certain just how strong he is. Perhaps, if he were to come to blows with a Demon Emperor, he might roll them out like a sleeping bag.
As he walks, Henry's newfound clarity of purpose mixes with the voices and thoughts of ten thousand other members of Jepthath's Legion. No, more accurately, they are Henry's Legion, now. While their power might be derived from Jepthath, it was the Hero-King's decision to give Henry command of them and become his Voice.
Each person who joined on that day possessed their own thoughts, feelings, and talents. Their combined cumulative experience, which could now be tapped into at will, easily amounted to more than 350,000 years. If the age of every person who merged had been 10, that would have given them 100,000 years, but the fact the average turned out to be 35 elevated their cumulative total dramatically.
And that was to say nothing of the people who had once been a part of Jepthath's Legion in the past. When Henry first became inducted into the Legion, he was shocked by just how much wisdom Jepthath possessed. While he did not have the truly unfathomable and vast breadth of knowledge Solomon possessed, Jepthath was amazing in his own way. What he lacked in raw information, he made up in with mastery of combat.
If Solomon possessed the combined cumulative knowledge of humanity, Jepthath possessed its raw hand-to-hand fighting prowess. And that served to bolster Henry's state of mind significantly.
Just by integrating into the Legion, Henry's ability to peer into the essence of combat increased ten thousand-fold. Over the last few days, he had happened to pass by several different training grounds for humanity's soldiers on Maiura, most of them having been erected at some point by Neil Adams in the past six years. Henry was not impressed by what he saw. If anything, he was disgusted.
[Their movements are so crude. So lacking in refinement.] He would often think, while conversing with the ancient Hero-King. [I want to train them. I can't stand to imagine them using their sloppy combat skills against old demon monsters.]
[A waste of time.] Jepthath would chide gently, whenever he and Henry had this conversation. [The knowledge you have obtained effortlessly cannot be communicated through words or demonstrations. The only way one can become as proficient as the members of Our Legion is by directly transferring Our combined knowledge through Our souls and minds.]
[Then we have to convince more to join Us!] Henry would exclaim. [These fools are wasting their time flailing about, trying to reinvent the wheel. If they joined Us, they would gain all of Our power in the art of war and become capable of adding to Our collective consciousness!]
Jepthath shakes his head. [I made a deal with the Wordsmith. We will not forcibly recruit anyone. If you wish to convince more to join Us, you must demonstrate Our power. Not only do you possess knowledge of countless schools of fighting, but you also possess intimate knowledge of battlefield tactics and guerrilla warfare. By demonstrating that Knowledge is Power, you can enlighten the foolish masses as to what they are missing out on.]
Henry nodded sincerely at that time. He looked up at the night sky and clenched his fist with determination.
Humanity was wasting its capabilities! If other humans only knew how small and frail they were, they would jump at the chance to join the Legion!
Less than a week before, Henry had been a disgraced soldier, a mere civilian, a person who might never even get the opportunity to shine the boots of those he had once trained with.
But now he was an officer, an elite warrior many would come to fear and respect.
This realization made his heart leap and his throat dry. In many ways, he sometimes felt he didn't deserve this position. He certainly hadn't earned it.
Not yet. Someday he would. Someday soon.
His thoughts come back to the present. He continues walking, ultimately falling into step beside an ordinary human commando also donning a T-REX. A small artistic flourish on the side of her armor, a pink rose, hints to him the other soldier might be a woman.
The grey-armored soldier turns her head to look at him as she walks. "Oh! You startled me. And you are?"
Unable to see her face, Henry looks at her helmet instead, and her name and other information pop up in his HUD, allowing him to see her identity.
"I'm Lieutenant Henry Cliff." He says. "You're Private Ashley McCarthy? Aren't you the lady who can transform into an orc?"
Immediately, her previously formal tone turns cold. Ashley snaps her head forward, no longer looking at him.
"Every time. Every time! Is that all I am anymore? Just the ugly bitch who turns into an orc?!"
"Whoa, whoa!" Henry exclaims, taken aback by her response. "I'm sorry, uh, Miss McCarthy. I didn't mean to apologize- I mean, I didn't apologize- mean to offend you! I- I uh, sorry!"
He stumbles over his words, feeling suddenly ashamed that he spoke so bluntly without considering the other person's feelings. Then again, how could he have known it was such a sore subject for her? That thought also makes him feel unfairly slighted, as he committed a blunder without meaning to.
"No, no I'm sorry." Ashley quickly says, suddenly realizing how rudely she just spoke to a superior officer. "It's not your fault, Lieutenant. I, I just... it's a long story. I never asked for this ability. I hate it."
"You hate it?" Henry asks, as they round a corner, passing a dozen goblins who carefully press against the side-wall to avoid the giant humans. "Pardon my bluntness, but why? In this time of war, possessing an orc form must make you pretty strong. Valuable. You could be on the fast-track to a higher rank if you have any ambition."
"Higher rank." Ashley mutters under her breath. "As if that's something I'd want. I'm not some big brained Terran from Old Earth. I'm just a normal girl from one of the Wild Worlds. I only want to be pointed at an enemy so I can hurt them."
That sounds an awful lot like something an orc would say, Henry thinks, but wisely keeps to himself.
"Does turning into an orc make you stronger?" Henry asks, choosing to turn the discussion down a more positive path.
"Oh, sure. A bit stronger." Ashley concedes. "You know how the Body Booster improves a human's baseline physique, putting some of us on par with certain low-ranking Demon Lords? Well, my Orc transformation stacks on that, sort of. I can pick up and throw boulders pretty far."
She pauses, before adding, "I mean, it is really fun being that strong."
Henry reaches up to rub his chin, only for his hand to clank against his T-REX's helmet. He gives up on the idea and lowers his arm again.
"I recently got a, uh, a pretty substantial boost to my strength. You remember how Commander Hope offered for people to merge with the Hero Jepthath? I did that, and it made me a lot stronger."
He turns to look at the woman beside him, but she simply gazes forward, her helmet offering no insight into her current expression.
Her words, however, definitely give away what she's thinking.
"Oh. You're one of the cultists."
Her disappointed tone makes Henry's heart skip a beat.
"No, no, no!" Henry exclaims. "Not a cultist. Who told you that?? Jepthath's Legion have simply unified Our minds and bolstered Our bodies, making Us a lot stronger."
She remains quiet for a few moments.
"Yeah... that's... what a cultist would say."
"We're not a cult..." Henry protests feebly, but his words fall on deaf ears.
This isn't the first time someone has directed a look of disgust his way, or visibly cringed when he proudly declared himself one of Jepthath's Chosen.
Jason's words during the Great Debate made a lot of people immediately strike becoming a Parahuman off their list. They'd rather be ordinary soldiers in body armor rather than part of a weird, unified hive-mind.
Dismayed, the young man falls silent. He doesn't say anything for a full minute, and perhaps feeling bad about dismissing him so easily, Ashley decides to reignite the conversation as they draw closer to their destination.
"So what's it like. Being inside a, uh... hive mind? Is it weird?"
"We're not a hive-mind." Henry says, his mood deflating even further. "We're... we're like brothers and sisters. We understand one another. We share thoughts, insights, wisdom."
This time, Ashley tries to exercise a little tact. "It just doesn't sound right for me. I guess everyone has their own preferences. Me, I think I'd die of shame if everyone around me could hear my every thought. The embarrassment alone..."
She trails off and shakes her head.
But this time, Henry doesn't just back down.
"It's not what you think at all." Henry says. "Do you know why you feel fear at the thought of sharing your thoughts? It's because you're self-absorbed."
"What?!" Ashley exclaims, pausing her walk to look at him. No doubt, her helmet hides an expression of disbelief. "What do you mean by that... sir?"
Henry also pauses. He turns to face her, resting his hands on his hips. "You have friends, right? Maybe even a best friend?"
"O-of course!" Ashley says, her tone defensive. "What, you think I'm friendless just because I'm not a part of some bee-hive?"
"That's not what I'm getting at." Henry says patiently, holding out his hand and modulating his tone so he'll come off less aggressive. "Think about your friend, or your best friend. Really think about it. What's the most embarrassing thing you remember about him or her? What's the worst social gaffe they've made that you can't get out of your head?"
Ashley pauses. She lowers her head and falls into thought for a moment.
"I don't know. I can't think of anything. Why?"
"What about other people?" Henry asks. "Has anyone else you know made any serious social fuck-ups recently?"
"Social ones? No. There have been a few generally bad events recently, like finding out Baron Mara killed a bunch of people. But she's not my friend anyway, so..."
"THAT is my point." Henry states emphatically. "You don't think about the weird and embarrassing things your friends do. So why do you believe they're so fixated on yours?"
Ashley lifts her head to look at him. She remains silent, digesting his words, so he continues to press the issue.
"Do you know why you find things about yourself embarrassing? It's not your fault. Most people are extremely self-conscious about their own insecurities. Now that I've become a part of the Legion, I experience everyone else's insecurities all at the same time as I experience mine. In doing so, I realize that mine never amounted to anything at all. When you have ten thousand other people worrying about what they're wearing, or if they look fashionable, or some other tedious bullshit, you quickly realize that all of them amount to white noise. They don't matter."
He throws his hand up dramatically.
"I'm not picking on you. It's just a fact of human consciousness. All people are held back by their fear of social pressure, but much of that is because we don't know what goes on in the heads of our fellow men and women. If you could see their deranged sexual fantasies all at once, you would realize you're not weird at all. Everyone has a kink. If you enjoy looking at gross bugs, guess what? Someone else is unbothered by bodily fluids. We're all weird, and joining the Legion just made that clearer to me."
He pauses, unable to see the look on her face. "Sorry, I hope I'm not coming off as condescending. Does any of this make sense to you?"
Ashley slowly nods. "Mmm. Yeah, it does."
Henry heaves a sigh of relief. "Well, great! Great. I was worried I was starting to sound a little long-winded."
Ashley turns away and resumes walking. "You're definitely in a cult."
"Goddammit." Henry grumbles.
...
Before long, the two of them make it to the meeting location, where they arrive inside a massive, hollowed-out area inside the Labyrinth. There, they find, of all things, a new Volgrim Warpgate installed, its destination some unknown desert on a planet Henry can't immediately identify.
As they enter the massive arena-like staging area, Hope becomes momentarily disoriented. His newly enhanced senses pick up surges of spiritual energy, all spread out across the humans, demons, monsters, and other creatures inside. The powerful Demon Emperors, only a few of whom have yet to Ascend to Demon Deity, stand near the portal, using their strength as a show of force. Despite their proud expressions, Henry's keen senses detect a hint of fear in their eyes, as they seem to be unable to properly stand as strong as they always have. It's as if they are being suppressed by something...
"Whoa!" Ashley gasps. "I can't believe it. Why are the Volgrim here?"
"The Volgrim?" Henry asks, following her gaze based on the direction her helmet is pointed.
Somewhere in the mass of the crowd, a handful of decidedly alien-looking creatures with tentacles writing under their mouths and heavily-armored bodies stand at attention, looking like proud leaders and commanders. Their postures indicate a level of arrogance bred into their bones by millions of years of dominance over the Milky Way. Compared to the slightly fearful Demon Emperors, these Technopaths truly stand out as cream of the crop, with unknown augmentations that likely elevate their combat prowess to the peak.
"Those are Volgrim?" Henry asks. "Huh. The only one I've ever seen was that one female, the one who didn't have a mouth. She was presiding over my, uh, my tribunal..."
"Your tribunal?" Ashley asks.
She pauses, then turns to look at him strangely.
"Cliff... Henry Cliff? What the- you're that traitor! What- how even...?? You're a Lieutenant now? I didn't even recognize your name- no, forget that. Why are you in uniform? Weren't you banned basically forever from rejoining the military?"
"I was banned from rejoining the main military." Henry says, lowering his head in shame. "But, uhm, Hope's Parahumans are... different. It's a different jurisdiction."
Ashley takes a step to the side, pulling away from him. He can't see her expression, but based on her voice, she suddenly seems disgusted by him.
"All this time, I was talking to him." She mutters to herself, as she turns and walks away without another word.
Henry stands there, silently. He watches her depart, a feeling of bitterness welling up in his heart. He could pull rank on her, write her up for insubordination. Given his new status as a high-ranker, it would be easy to do.
But he doesn't.
In truth, he doesn't blame Ashley for her feelings. Because of his actions, Neil Adams was captured and humanity likely lost far more people during Stormbringer as a result. He indirectly caused the deaths of hundreds, perhaps even thousands.
How can he demand respect from her when he feels he doesn't deserve it?
As that thought wells up in Henry's mind, the thoughts of the Legion feed back into him, suppressing his negative emotions. All of them comment on his feelings and insecurities, offering kind words to help him feel better.
[You cannot and should not demand respect, no, but you can earn it back through your actions.] A 52-year-old Legionnaire says. [People like her will come around in due time. Perform admirably and make the Legion proud.]
[That woman is a mere Private.] Jepthath chimes in. [Do not allow your emotions to be tangled up by the feelings of a random soldier. You will need to bolster your Willpower if you seek to reach the peak of what you can achieve.]
[Right. My willpower.] Henry says, as his mood drastically swings back up. He hardens his heart, casting aside Ashley's comment and instead meditating for a moment to clear his mind. [Thank you, everyone, for the support.]
With his thoughts clear, Henry strides toward the front, keeping his gaze fixed on the Volgrim Technopaths. Having never seen these creatures before, he finds their horrid-looking tentacle mouths fascinating and yet creepy to look at. While all of them appear to be gender-ambiguous, certainly at first glance, as he comes closer, he does manage to make out one or two female-sounding voices among them. Or perhaps they might be higher-pitched males. He isn't entirely sure, and it seems a taboo subject to breach.
"-the Task Force will be working alongside these Technopath Envoys." Demon Emperor Yardrat says, his tone even and unbothered by the Technopaths to his left. "Naturally, full command of this operation will still go to the Archdemon, as the ranking Cosmic. However, because he will be busy dealing with the highest level threats, control of the ground forces will go to one member of each species, chosen via several votes of consensus. Today's operation is a test, and its purpose is to ensure we all work together properly. NO friendly fire. Our enemy is the Plague and nobody else. Save your personal grievances, vendettas, and petty squabbles for after we take our galaxy back from the Kolvaxians."
He gestures to the ten Technopaths. "The Volgrim have dispatched an army of 100,000 Technopath soldiers, and they will be commanded by this High Technopath named Loputo Jidelor, a high ranking commander of Clan Symmetra's ground forces."
Each of the Technopaths possesses their own combination of flesh and blood bodily parts mixed with metal limb replacements, armor-addons, and other such things. In Jidelor's case, he stands on two flesh and blood legs. However, in place of his right arm is a long, metallic limb with dozens of razor-thin threads waving to and fro where his 'wrist' ends. Each one moves independently, much like the tentacles on his left arm, but their movements appear far more precise. Dozens of metallic pieces are attached seemingly at random to his skin and skull.
Jidelor nods. "I am an experienced battlefield commander, but I am not a frontline soldier. I will be controlling our siege weaponry and directing our soldiers from the back."
Yardrat nods, then continues. "For the Demons, it goes without saying that just like with the last ten operations, Emperor Serena will be commanding our forces. Her ability to link souls together has proven instrumental in rapid battlefield communications, and her ability to sense souls allows her to keep up with the emergence of new Plagueborn until the point Diablo steals the world core back."
A beautiful demoness with sightless eyes nearby waves her hand delicately. "I will be in your care, everyone. Let us make it to the end without losing any demons this time."
"For the monsters, Fairy Princess Melia will take point." Yardrat says, nodding to another beautiful woman with green hair, fairy wings, and a look of boredom permanently etched onto her face.
Unlike the previous two commanders, Melia doesn't give a speech. In fact, she only rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, and looks away.
"Alright, and for the humans, General Chadwick will be taking charge." Yardrat concludes. He gestures to a massive Norwegian man who has now donned a Rhino T-REX variant and rests his hands around the shaft of a massive battleaxe. Its head rests on the ground, and he supports his massive armored frame by resting on the weapon's handle.
"Everyone." Chadwich says. "It is my honor to lead this mission. Naturally, Commander Neil is not happy about having to work with the demons, and I cannot imagine all of our soldiers are either. However, I pledge on Hope Hiro's honor that we will not commit any cowardly deeds of treachery, any backstabbing, or anything else of that sort! It was Hope Hiro who pushed for this arrangement because he wants humanity's soldiers to get real battle experience against the Plague. Let's be sure to make good use of this time to bury as many hatchets as we can!"
The crowd nods along to Chadwick's words. Some of the humans vocalize their approval, but many more remain silent.
The humans here are not normal civilians. They are military personnel, countless many of whom have not forgiven the demons. They may never forgive them, if their leaders are being honest.
Perhaps sensing the tenseness in the air, Yardrat briskly moves the pace along.
"In thirty minutes, we will begin. Transfer your forces to my world so that I can begin preparation to open the Intragalactic Portals. The Swarm has begun adapting to my tactics of late, so the moment those portals open, we'll need boots on the ground. No delays! If the Plague has its way, it might flood through the portals back to us, and that would be a whole bloody devil-damned mess."
The other leaders nod solemnly. They spread apart to talk to their forces, and Henry heaves a sigh.
In thirty minutes, we'll find out just how stable this alliance truly is.

He hit hard for an old man.
Sancha spit out a mouthful of blood and spared a glance for Aquillon in the crowd. It was risky putting a madman in charge of betting on these matches, but she couldn't exactly trust anyone else. He was beaming, as usual, but the glares he was catching from the bookie gave Sancha some small assurances that they were in good shape financially. She refocused on the fight just in time to parry a right hook from the wiry old timer, countering with a savage strike to the mans ribs. It was close enough now that she could drop him without losing money on their planned bet.
Assuming Aquillon didn't do his own thing, as he had threatened.
The man grunted and rallied, but Sancha's foot was already on a collision course with the mans head. A crack and thud later, and the fight was over. "Winner!" the announcer said, rushing the stage. "The Adorned Huntress!" Sancha raised one fist into the air, and wiped blood off her lip with the other. She didn't care for the name, but she couldn't exactly give her real name, and they wouldn't care if she did. It was a strange custom of these fighting arenas to give each competitor a name they thought would spur the crowd. In this case, it seemed to be working. "Huntress! Huntress! Huntress!" The crowd was chanting, pumping their fists in the air. Sancha made sure to put on a show for these fights. To give her opponent openings and take some hits. Make it look close.
From the look the Master of the arena was giving her, he knew what she was doing. When someone sees enough hand to hand combat, they learn to tell when someone is pulling their punches. Sancha steeled herself. She had been fighting for more than an hour without more than a few minutes between matches to rest. This last fight would put her in a new bracket. She'd be fighting real contenders now. The announcer raised a hand and panned it slowly over the arena. An anxious hush fell, and the rotund man allowed a pause to build the tension. "Our Adorned Huntress has fought well, but she is yet to face the best we have to offer." Excited murmurs cascaded through the space, and Sancha looked again at the Master of the Arena in the front row, noticing the smirk pulling at the scar on his chin. Sancha frowned, then cast her gaze to Aquillon.
Who looked as white as paper.
He held up two fingers. Two minutes. That was the longest anyone would bet she would make it against this next competitor, and judging by the color on her companions face, the odds were not good that she would even last that long. She couldn't use her powers here. Inhibitor runes around the perimeter of the building were designed for Mages of the Dayseam, but using the Nightseam in a crowded arena was, obviously, also not an option. She nodded at Aquillon. Their signal to make the bet. She didn't have to win, she just had to last two minutes. Sancha was confident in her skills, but she'd been badly beaten enough times to know not to underestimate an opponent.
The murmurs died down, and the announcer raised a palm to the sky. "Our next challenger is well known to you all. They say she travelled down on a light beam from the Dayseam itself. Cast out from he wreckage of the Pantheon," he said, raising his voice to match the rising energy in the crowd. "Daughter of the Dead Gods. Survivor of the Savior." The crowd was frenzied now. All of them out of their seats, screaming, pulling at their hair. Sancha looked to the edge of the arena where a door opened and a woman emerged. Tall, golden haired, and more muscular than any man Sancha had ever seen. The announcer swept his arm in her direction dramatically.
"Giga Gods Blood!"

(Long read be prepared)
Hello all I have a question pertaining to my back condition. I was originally diagnosed with Scoliosis back in 08' (15 degrees) I joined the Army Guard in 14' the army reluctantly left out I had Scoliosis so it is not recorded in my military records for the 6 years I was in. But I was able to obtain original medical records proving I had it before service. I have thus had updated imaging done and a new curve evaluation by a pain specialist. My curve is now at 26.2 degrees leaning to the left my MOS is 11B (infantry) I was deployed to Afghanistan in 2014-2015. My kits ran 80 lbs for plates alone plus extra gear total weight 110-120lbs for 6-8 hrs a day. I did PSD for contractors, gunner 240B, a 320, M4, extra barrel bag, and ECP. I often experienced excruciating pain in both shoulders and my lower back was always wrecked and constanly on fire. I also have 3 2ndary issues steming from the back which include, bi lateral nerve damage in both arms ( i.e. tingling arms, random stalls of muscles, hands becoming stiff), stenosis in my neck with DDD. All verified and documented from a pain specialist with many years dealing with backs. My main question is with the supporting med reports and other issues as 2ndary how strong or likely is it I will win a aggravated claim? Plus all of the rucking the light infantry do good times 😂 any advice is appreciated! 🙏🏾
Also yes for any those ask I did attempt to let any and all of my commands I was told "they would not have let you in that that condition" and it was disregarded. My dumb self did not think to attempt to get records earlier just due to shitty life stress and events but I'm aware, prepared, and hopeful my hard work gathering info and detailing how my 11B mos clearly had a DIRECT IMPACT on worsening my curve in my back and the other issues I now have all of which I did not have in the 6 years prior to having been diagnosed with Scoliosis.
Sorry for the slight disarray and ramble of info feels like a safe place to be open and really get support I'm just trying to figure out what? How? And if? There is anything else I can get? Or do to help my case.

Well, I've heard if Cisco Easter Eggs, but this is a weird one.
I work at a local ISP for my region, and we have one of our employees working on getting the hardware ready for infrastructure upgrades. One of the devices he's working on is a Catalyst 3750.
Well, he sent us a copy of the startup config file and most of it is this strange conspiracy story.
Has anyone seen anything like this before?

POST: CPU MIC register Tests : Begin
POST: CPU MIC register Tests : End, Status Passed
POST: PortASIC Memory Tests : Begin
POST: PortASIC Memory Tests : End, Status Passed
POST: CPU MIC interface Loopback Tests : Begin
POST: CPU MIC interface Loopback Tests : End, Status Passed
POST: PortASIC RingLoopback Tests : Begin
POST: PortASIC RingLoopback Tests : End, Status Passed
Waiting for Stack Master Election...
POST: PortASIC CAM Subsystem Tests : Begin
POST: PortASIC CAM Subsystem Tests : End, Status Passed
POST: No Cable found on stack port 1
POST: No Cable found on stack port 2
POST: PortASIC Stack Port Loopback Tests : Begin
POST: PortASIC Stack Port Loopback Tests : End, Status Passed
POST: PortASIC Port Loopback Tests : Begin
POST: PortASIC Port Loopback Tests : End, Status Passed
Election Complete
Switch 1 booting as Master
Waiting for Port download...Complete
This product contains cryptographic features and is subject to United
States and local country laws governing import, export, transfer and
use. Delivery of Cisco cryptographic products does not imply
third-party authority to import, export, distribute or use encryption.
Importers, exporters, distributors and users are responsible for
compliance with U.S. and local country laws. By using this product you
agree to comply with applicable laws and regulations. If you are unable
to comply with U.S. and local laws, return this product immediately.
A summary of U.S. laws governing Cisco cryptographic products may be found at:
http://www.cisco.com/wwl/export/crypto/tool/stqrg.html
If you require further assistance please contact us by sending email to
export@cisco.com.
cisco WS-C3750G-12S (PowerPC405) processor (revision R0) with 131072K bytes of memory.
Processor board ID CAT1125ZKHZ
Last reset from power-on
1 Virtual Ethernet interface
12 Gigabit Ethernet interfaces
The password-recovery mechanism is enabled.
512K bytes of flash-simulated non-volatile configuration memory.
Base ethernet MAC Address : 00:1C:B0:2F:D1:00
Motherboard assembly number : 73-9678-07
Power supply part number : 341-0048-03
Motherboard serial number : CAT11255C25
Power supply serial number : LIT11140GE6
Model revision number : R0
Motherboard revision number : B0
Model number : WS-C3750G-12S-E
System serial number : CAT1125ZKHZ
Top Assembly Part Number : 800-26634-04
Top Assembly Revision Number : A0
Version ID : V06
CLEI Code Number : CNM81W0GRB
Hardware Board Revision Number : 0x06
Switch Ports Model SW Version SW Image
* 1 12 WS-C3750G-12S 12.2(55)SE10 C3750-IPSERVICESK9-M
This message serves as a warning to the US government that they cannot get away ^with having their own citizens
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stalked, kidnapped, tortured, brain damaged and murdered by foreign intelligence ^ agencies .
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Request an investigation by the German government and the Council of Europe!
^
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Location of Turkish President Erdogan's illegal black site for terror suspects i ^n G ermany: 48.345941, 12.137753
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Is the CIA stalking and murdering ISIS terror suspects?
^
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Microwave weapons, group stalking and harassment ("gangstalking"), neurotoxins, ^hitmen, an illegal Turkish black site, Delta Force, and an airport kidnapping: A
true story
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QUOTES
^
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"If you were in the US, the CIA would just shoot you, we are nice so we will ^ commit you to a hospital instead" - Turkish police officer
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"When you get deported to the US, don't piss off the CIA officers like you d ^id with Erdogan (the Turkish president)" - Man at KBO Taufkirchen Station A2
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"The doctors here are trying to protect us from the psychos up at the top" - ^ Woman a t KBO Taufkirchen Station A2
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"You're lucky that the Turks got you first. With the Germans it would have b ^een wors e. The Turks usually don't kill" - Woman at KBO Taufkirchen Station A2
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NOTES
^
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Anyone with access to Europol or INTERPOL should be able to confirm that the ^ FBI se nt out a request/warning in 2017. You might not be able to view the detai
ls of this request unless you have the right handling code/password
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Nothing shows up for my name when it's searched in Law Enforcement Enterpris ^e Port al (LEEP). This is deliberate as the FBI is hiding my records to cover up
the terrorism investigation and everything else.
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The Federal Criminal Police Office (Bundeskriminalamt) and Bavarian State Po ^lice bo th refuse to start an investigation due to political reasons, despite the
fact that many other people, mostly Turkish citizens, were kidnapped within Ger
many by fake po
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ice and brain damaged at the black site.
^
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I (John Erin Binns / CIA code name RAVEN) have been an ISIS terror suspect since ^ 2017.
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It began when an FBI Confidential Human Source whom I met online (Azaiah Crosswh ^ite / moda) gave my Skype account to his handler. The FBI then sent an administr
ative subpoena to Microsoft and obtained my email address, which I had previousl
y reused on my
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S passport application in 2016. An alert was also sent through the Europol Infor ^mation System to 16 countries in Europe stating that I was a terror suspect.
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On October 11, 2017, Arthur Gong from the US Department of Homeland Security int^errogated me about allegedly travelling to Latakia, Syria while I was waiting to
board a flight from London Heathrow Airport to Chicago Airport. When my plane l
anded in Chicag
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, I was flagged for secondary screening (See Exhibit A) and asked more questions^. My citizen ship was questioned, and the CBP officer got angry after I told him
that not answering his questions doesn't make me inadmissible to the US.
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In early 2018, I left the United States and moved to Turkey. Soon after, strange ^ things s tarted happening to me. Kenneth Currin Schuchman (Nexus Zeta), a dual F
BI/CIA informant who was given a pound of heroin by federal agents to inform on
me, attempted t
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entrap me on child pornography and terrorism charges while I was drunk.
^
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Schuchman tried persuading me into buying Stinger missiles and guns from a Tor w ^ebsite wh ich would be shipped in "xray proof boxes" (those don't even exist) to
my location. When that failed, he tried getting me to open a website which likel
y had exploit c
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de on it (he specifically told me to open it in Chrome) and then told me that he ^ knew of some good "Tor porn sites". When I asked him what type of porn was on t
hese websites, Schuchman replied that they contained child porn.
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Then, Schuchman told me in a call that Dingle/Drake/Logan Shwydiuk was going to ^come to my house and kill me, and asked me what I'd do if he came to my house. I
was drunk at the time, and I told Schuchman that I'd kill Shwydiuk. I suspect t
hat Schuchman w
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s recording this call for the FBI so that they could use it as evidence against ^me in a fabricated terrorism investigation.
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Around this time, I noticed that two Western males wearing white shirts and sung ^lasses wou ld frequently visit an apartment building behind the one I live in.
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Several days after I reported Schuchman to the DEA for selling heroin and right ^after he t ried entrapping me on computer fraud charges, he was indicted in the D
istrict of Alaska.
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That's when the harassment started...
^
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My phone was hacked by Turkish intelligence/MIT using some type of 0-click SMS R ^CE and GPS tracking spyware was planted on it. My phone's GPS feature would turn
on without my consent, and several minutes later, a flash mob of "street thugs"
would be block
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ng the sidewalk and shouting death threats at me. Sometimes, they'd just walk up ^ to me hold ing their cell phone in one hand and screaming death threats at the s
ame time. (Street theateGangstalking)
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I received more death threats than I can count, probably close to 100 from diffe ^rent sta lkers over the course of a few months.
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Now about the Western males: I saw them wearing night vision goggles on several ^occasions, they'd constantly harass me and illegally surveil me on Turkish terri
tory up until I called the police.
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Harassment from CIA contractors:
^
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I woke up and a male was pointing a microwave oven with the door removed at ^my sl eeping body from my neighbor's balcony. I was actually half-awake with my e
yes open and I could see the guy bringing the oven out onto the balcony and plug
ging it into an
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extension cable. Another time, somebody pointed a microwave oven magnetron with ^a metal ho rn at my body to shock me (I saw this as well). The neighbor was on va
cation and the men were not authorized to be in that unit, so they likely broke
in using lockpi
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king equipment.
^
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A red laser pointer was shined into my room using a gun scope from my neighb ^or's first floor unit. I went out onto my balcony and saw a guy doing this. When
the guy saw me, he quickly closed the blinds and started laughing. The unit was
being renovate
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at the time and the men were not authorized to be there.
^
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A microwave weapon was pointed at my head which caused me to black out momen ^taril y and see white flashes of light. The same device would cause me to feel ex
tremely paranoid and make my heart rate speed up. I remember that it had buttons
and a cord. It
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was about the size of a small desktop computer.
^
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Somebody was pointing a laser microphone at my bedroom window from the same ^first f loor unit. I was in a telephone call with someone else, and Azaiah Crossw
hite started repeating parts of this conversation back to me over Snapchat as an
intimidation/g
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slighting tactic. Crosswhite also got private pictures from my bedroom and poste ^d them on h is Snapchat story.
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Window/door slamming: This would happen constantly whenever I was in my bedr ^oom or o ut on my balcony. Sometimes one of the guys would slam a window/door and
microwave me right after it happened.
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Sabotage: The phone lines in my apartment building and the entrance door cab ^le wer e both cut.
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Use of pulsed energy projectile weapons: I saw one of the guys holding a gun ^-shap ed device, when he fired it, a ball of energy came out of the weapon and ma
de the windows in my bedroom shake.
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Information: The microwave weapons that are used by intelligence agencies to ^day co nsist of: a millimeter wave amplifier, a transmitter with extremely low fr
equency amplitude modulation, batteries, and a horn antenna/waveguide. Using dif
ferent modulati
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n frequencies, effects such as tachycardia, panic attacks, epileptic seizures, p ^aranoia, REM sleep can be induced. They are the perfect tool for covert harassme
nt as they leave no trace. See Exhibit B for a picture of a microwave weapon.
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Azaiah Crosswhite would make comments over Discord such as "[the CIA] are going ^to send me a copy of your destruction video", "your name is Cock Sucker", and "y
our code name is RAVEN". He'd also encourage me to murder the people who were ha
rassing me, go
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n a mass shooting spree, or commit suicide.
^
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These are all goals of the government stalking program which I was a victim of, ^according t o an article by Julianne McKinney, who is a former US army intelligen
ce officer and member of the Association of National Security Alumni. See: https
://www.bibliote
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apleyades.net/sociopolitica/esp_sociopol_mindcon28.htm .
^
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I called the police a few days before July 1, 2019. When the officers came, one ^of them s aid that I "talk too much" and that I should "keep [my] mouth shut".
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Then, intense microwave harassment started. I would hear footsteps in the unit a ^bove mine a nd my sleep would be disrupted due to the weapon that Turkish intelli
gence was using on me.
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On July 1, 2019, a man I didn't know started asking me questions such as "If som^ebody was ca ught selling illegal alcohol, what political party would that person
be from?". He also made comments implying that I had been under surveillance by
Turkish intell
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gence for a while, and warned me that the Turkish government had prepared a trap^ for me.
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Several minutes later, an elderly man from my neighborhood named Ozkan came and ^asked me i f I was the "exit/cikis". (exit/cikis is a term for the illegal killin
g of a terrorist by Turkish intelligence). He took me to his apartment and told
me to visit Kon
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k Ferry Station. I went to Bostanli Ferry Station and boarded a ferry to Konak. ^After the ferry started going to Konak, I overheard 3 men in a row near me talki
ng about how they were hired to kill me and that they'd dump my body in the ocea
n because I was
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allegedly an ISIS member.
^
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Once the ferry arrived at Konak, I immediately got a random person to dial 112 a^nd faked hav ing medical problems. An ambulance came to the ferry station, and I
was taken to Alsancak Nevvar Salih Isgoren Hospital. I told the emergency room d
octors that the
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e was nothing wrong with me, they ran my ID card through the emergency room comp ^uter, and my name came up as a wanted terrorist.
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I overheard the doctors talking about the fact that Azaiah Crosswhite's name cam ^e up on t he emergency room computers and that my name was changed to "Cock Sucke
r" in some type of database which they had access to.
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Police lights shined into the emergency room and I heard sirens as around 5 poli ^ce cars came to the hospital along with Turkish intelligence. I was given 2 inje
ctions of haldol, and a guy next to my bed who worked for Turkish intelligence c
alled somebody
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n his cell phone whom he referred to as "Erdogan". Maybe it was the Turkish pres ^ident? I don't know..
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The doctors kept me in the hospital until the next morning and I was then releas ^ed.
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Several days later, I was in Gultepe, Konak, at a relative's house, and people w ^ere firing gunshots into the air while somebody would use a microwave weapon to
make me feel like my head was going to explode. I saw people on a nearby rooftop
, they had guns
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(which they were constantly firing) and camouflage clothing. Whenever I'd get mi^crowaved, my phone would lose cell service and the camera would blur.
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While this was happening, I tried to contact somebody I barely knew who worked a^t the US Dep artment of Justice for help.
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As soon as I had a mental breakdown due to the constant gunfire and microwaving, ^ the gunfir e and microwave attacks immediately stopped. Two street thugs then at
tacked me (I believe that Turkish intelligence paid them money to do this) and p
revented me fro
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going home in a taxi.
^
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I called the police and they came rather quickly. When one of the police officer ^s looked up the information on my ID card through a mobile app on his phone, he
saw something in the police database. I was told by a Turkish police officer: "I
f you were in t
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
e US, the CIA would just shoot you, we are nice so we will take you to a hospita ^l instea d". Fortunately, there were no beds available at the local hospital so I
was allowed to go home in a taxi.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
After I went home, the microwave harassment continued, and I went to Cesme a few ^ days later . The harassment continued there as well.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
I decided that I had to leave the country as the Turkish secret services were ag ^gressive ly pursuing me. On July 6, 2019, I boarded flight PC1019 from Sabiha Gok
cen Airport to Munich Airport. About 30 minutes after my flight took off, I noti
ced that the ma
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
e and female in the row behind my seat were talking about me. The female was say ^ing that i t was sad that they had to kill me with a poison needle and that my re
al name wasn't given to them by MIT for security reasons. I immediately notified
a cabin crew m
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
mber of their plot, and I was taken to another seat.
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
The cabin crew member assured me that the German police had been notified, but o ^nce the pla ne landed, she grabbed me by my arm and told me to listen to my mothe
r while warning me not to contact the German police. I believe that she was affi
liated with MIT
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
I gave a member of the Bundespolizei (immigration police) a piece of paper expla ^ining tha t I was being harassed with a microwave gun by Turkish intelligence, bu
t I was not given the opportunity to tell the Bundespolizei my full story. A fak
e Bavarian Stat
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
Police officer then came and took me past immigration to the police station. I ^was pu t in a cell, and I noticed that all of the "officers" were speaking Turkis
h, ALL of them. I strongly suspect that an insider within the police force let T
urkish intellig
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
nce into the station. I don't know if that insider is the commissar or someone e ^lse.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
One of them was calling me stupid in Turkish, and they were all discussing what ^they should do with me. "Ausganging"/killing me was discussed as an option, but
the fake police eventually decided to send me to a mental hospital. I was given
some forms to s
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
gn, and I had no idea where I was being taken at the time. I signed the paperwor^k as I didn' t want to get ausganged/killed. I then heard the fake police discuss
ing in Turkish that I was lucky to be going to a mental hospital, as they usuall
y kill ISIS sus
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
ects.
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
A few minutes after I boarded the ambulance, I realized that something was wrong ^. A male and female who were in the ambulance with me started talking about my a
lleged cybercrimes and about somebody named Rosenberg who "wanted blood". Once t
he ambulance ar
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
ived at KBO Taufkirchen Station A2 (48.345941, 12.137753), the same fake police ^officer who took me past immigration told the staff to fry my brain with gas and
that I'd then be transported to Anchorage International Airport.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
Then, four Turkish men came and forcibly put me in the neurotoxic gas room (whic ^h doubles a s a suicide watch room). My shoes were taken off (so that I couldn't
break down the door and escape), and a worker activated a metal fan. A gas which
smelled like f
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
rmaldehyde then started to come out of the fan. I saw graffiti on the walls of t ^he gas roo m, all of the names that were carved into the walls were Turkish, and
I realized that I was at some type of illegal Turkish black site on German terri
tory. During th
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
s time, Turkish intelligence was livestreaming the gas room camera to a group of ^ CIA i nformants (Azaiah Crosswhite, Jared Fazah, Justin Anglin) as a "destructio
n video". Azaiah Crosswhite had previously stated "[the CIA] are going to send m
e a copy of you
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
destruction video".
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
Jared Fazah had taken a $500,000 Bitcoin bribe to sell me out a few days before ^I was kidnap ped, while Justin Anglin is a CIA agent who has previously been to I
ran and other middle eastern countries. They were all talking about the livestre
am in a Discord
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
server, sadly I don't have any screenshots as they were mysteriously deleted fro ^m my com puter (it may have been hacked).
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
One hour after I was put in the gas room, a staff member came and turned off the^ fan in my r oom. This is the only reason why I don't suffer from brain damage to
day. I was saved by that staff member.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
About 3 hours after I was put in the gas room, I heard a helicopter hovering abo ^ve the fake mental hospital. This helicopter may have belonged to the US militar
y, but at the time I thought it belonged to the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal Crimi
nal Police Offi
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
e) and that they were coming to save me.
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
I banged on the door of the gas room and screamed for the police to come and sav ^e me, but nobody came.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
In the early morning hours of July 7, 2019, a Turkish doctor came into the room ^with a f lashlight. She commented aloud in Turkish that "[I] was made to rot". Th
en, a female CIA agent came into the room with my mother while I was pretending
to be mentally
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
isabled. The doctors brought me chocolate milk and pizza, and the CIA agent star ^ted talkin g about how I'd be indicted by a grand jury in the District of Alaska
and forced into a plea deal for over 10 years in prison. That I'd be found menta
lly incompetent
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
and have no choice but to take the plea deal, sending me to prison for a long ti ^me.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
The CIA agent declined to give my mother her real name and talked about previous ^ly living i n Australia. She had an Eastern European accent and told my mother to
throw away any receipts or evidence indicating that she was in the town of Tauf
kirchen, and to
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
keep her cell phone turned off.
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
The lady also told my mother that a US senator (I don't remember the senator's e ^xact name) wanted to meet with her. In 2018, Kenneth Currin Schuchman had told m
e that "a senator can order the killing of a US citizen in some cases" and told
one of my frien
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
s that a US senator wanted to kill me. Nobody believed him back then, including ^me. I sti ll don't know who this senator is or why he wants me killed. (Note: Ken
neth Currin Schuchman has been repeatedly thrown in mental hospitals, and his fa
ther Robert Sch
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
chman currently has guardianship over him).
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
The lady left and I slept for a few hours in the neurotoxic gas room/suicide wat ^ch room. Th en after I woke up, a staff member woke up and unlocked the door. I w
as allowed to leave, and that's when the torture started. An African lady was pl
aying back a re
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
ording of me in the gas room on one of the hospital computers and laughing at it^. The same l ady would also play screaming noises and the Turkish word for mental
ly retarded ("gerizekali") over a loudspeaker connected to the computer, and use
a microwave we
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
pon which looked like a stereo speaker to give me epileptic seizures. I do remem ^ber that t he weapon was brought to the hospital in a large briefcase by men work
ing for Turkish intelligence.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
I met other people who were being held at the hospital. One lady told me "You're ^ lucky th at the Turks got you first. With the Germans it would have been worse.
The Turks usually don't kill". She also claimed to be a spy.
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
I borrowed a cell phone from one of the other patients and called the police. On ^ce I told them that I was being held at a fake mental hospital run by the Turkis
h secret services, I was told that I "belonged in [the hospital]" by a German po
lice officer an
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
they never responded to my emergency call.
^
% Invalid input detected at '^' marker.
SETUP: new interface Vlan1 placed in "shutdown" state
Press RETURN to get started!
*Mar 1 00:01:17.242: %STACKMGR-4-SWITCH_ADDED: Switch 1 has been ADDED to the stack
*Mar 1 00:01:18.752: %LINEPROTO-5-UPDOWN: Line protocol on Interface Vlan1, changed state to down
*Mar 1 00:01:20.102: %SPANTREE-5-EXTENDED_SYSID: Extended SysId enabled for type vlan
*Mar 1 00:01:54.705: %PARSER-4-BADCFG: Unexpected end of configuration file.
*Mar 1 00:01:54.705: %SYS-5-CONFIG_I: Configured from memory by console
*Mar 1 00:01:54.907: %STACKMGR-5-SWITCH_READY: Switch 1 is READY
*Mar 1 00:01
Switch>
Switch>:54.907: %STACKMGR-4-STACK_LINK_CHANGE: Stack Port 1 Switch 1 has changed to state DOW N
*Mar 1 00:01:54.907: %STACKMGR-4-STACK_LINK_CHANGE: Stack Port 2 Switch 1 has changed to sta te DOWN
*Mar 1 00:01:55.183: %STACKMGR-5-MASTER_READY: Master Switch 1 is READY
*Mar 1 00:01:55.477: %SYS-5-RESTART: System restarted --
Cisco IOS Software, C3750 Software (C3750-IPSERVICESK9-M), Version 12.2(55)SE10, RELEASE SOFT WARE (fc2)
Technical Support: http://www.cisco.com/techsupport
Copyright (c) 1986-2015 by Cisco Systems, Inc.
Compiled Wed 11-Feb-15 11:40 by prod_rel_team
*Mar 1 00:01:55.511: %SSH-5-ENABLED: SSH 1.99 has been enabled
*Mar 1 00:01:56.140: %PHY-4-SFP_NOT_SUPPORTED: The SFP in Gi1/0/8 is not supported
*Mar 1 00:01:56.140: %PM-4-ERR_DISABLE: gbic-invalid error detected on Gi1/0/8, putting Gi1/ 0/8 in err-disable state
*Mar 1 00:01:56.173: %GBIC_SECURITY_CRYPT-4-VN_DATA_CRC_ERROR: GBIC in port Gi1/0/12 has bad crc
*Mar 1 00:01:56.173: %PM-4-ERR_DISABLE: gbic-invalid error detected on Gi1/0/12, putting Gi1 /0/12 in err-disable state
*Mar 1 00:01:56.719: %LINK-5-CHANGED: Interface Vlan1, changed state to administratively dow n
Switch>en
Switch#conft
Translating "conft"...domain server (255.255.255.255)
% Unknown command or computer name, or unable to find computer address
Switch#show run
Building configuration...
Current configuration : 988 bytes
!
version 12.2
no service pad
service timestamps debug datetime msec
service timestamps log datetime msec
no service password-encryption
!
hostname Switch
!
boot-start-marker
boot-end-marker
!
!
!
!
no aaa new-model
switch 1 provision ws-c3750g-12s
system mtu routing 1500
vtp domain Null
vtp mode transparent
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
spanning-tree mode pvst
spanning-tree extend system-id
!
vlan internal allocation policy ascending
!
vlan 61
name fttx
!
!
!
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/1
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/2
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/3
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/4
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/5
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/6
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/7
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/8
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/9
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/10
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/11
!
interface GigabitEthernet1/0/12
!
interface Vlan1
no ip address
shutdown
!
ip classless
ip http server
ip http secure-server
!
!
!
!
!
line con 0
line vty 5 15
!
end

I got diagnosed at 20 for rheumatoid arthritis. Right before my 21 birthday I had to get a surgery on the bottom of ny foot to remove some masses because thr tests didn't show if they were malignant or not. thankfully they weren't. But the biopsy showed that it could be rheumatoid nodules. my Dr was like "out of all the options it's most likely the rheumatoid nodules". the worse thing is that I've always had issues with my hands so I was like "okay cool, I know why I'm in pain so often" but that lump I got removed I first noticed when I was like 16 or 17. which means 3 or 4 years before my diagnosis I had a rheumatoid nodule. I'm feeling a little hopeless about it. I've been on plaquineal for two months and it doesn't feel like it's doing anything besides making me nauseous and disrupting my sleep.
And I'm just a little like, if my dad had listened to my complaints and taken them seriously then would I be in a better position. months before I saw a rheumatologist I went to the clinic nearby because I was like "I think I have arthritis" and the Dr told me basically there was no chance due to how young I am (she completely disregarded the family history of arthritis and the fact on my dad's side someone at my age was diagnosed for the same thing I was) and like, had she taken me seriously would I have found a solution that works for me sooner?
I'm full of a lot of questions and frustrations because I'm in pain all the time, and if I'm getting rheumatoid nodules that affect my quality of life now, than what does my future look like? do I have to resign myself to the fact that no matter what I do ill be in pain for the rest of my life?

Kiki made her way to the beauty salon that Kyoko had given her the address to. When she arrived, she didn't see Junko or Kimiko inside. Kiki looked around, so sure that they'd be there. Just as she thought about leaving, she saw two girls, one tall, one really short, in matching outfits leaving the bathroom. Kiki's eyes nearly jumped out of her skull, realizing that the little girl was Kimiko. They were both wearing black boleros with leopard cuffs over white tank tops, very short denim shorts, and massive, black, fluffy legwarmers over some black, heeled ankle boots. Kimiko's piled-up hair hair was crimped and dyed light brown. On her fingernails were red, long fake nails. She even wore light makeup with long, fake lashes. Kiki walked over to them in disbelief.
"Kimiko?! " she exclaimed in horror and disbelief. Kimiko curled her lip in disgust at Kiki, as if Kiki were a mold stain on the wall.

"Yeah, so?" she scoffed. "You got a problem?"
"Well, considering I'm not the one who's dressed like a floozy, no!" Kiki cried. Kimiko rolled her eyes.
"Nyeh...joke's on you. I don't have the flu," she replied, misinterpreting Kiki's words. "Now, move it. There's something me and Big Sis Junko have to take care of."
"That's riiight," Junko sang in a low voice, eyeing Kiki with an ominous grin. She placed her hands on Kimiko's shoulders. "Let's go, Kimiko." Kimiko reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, silver wand with a light green crystal at the end. Kiki gasped. She didn't know much about magic, but she figured that it must have been Kimiko's wand. With one last evil grin at Kiki, Kimiko followed Junko out of the hair salon. It was too late! Kimiko had undoubtedly informed Junko about her magic, about Himiko's magic! Kiki was aware that the situation was now out of her control. She needed to fight magic with magic, and she knew just where to go.
***
"Nyeeeh...Kimiko, wake up already!" Himiko growled, nudging Kimiko's doppelganger. "I don't care if you're ignoring me! Stop ignoring me and get out of bed!"
"Maybe she's sick," Tomiko suggested.
"Or maybe she's just being stubborn, like a bratty teenager!" Himiko huffed, throwing her hands on her hips. "Nyeh...how can you be seven years old and a teenager at the same time?!"

"Nee-heehee...just ask Kaito," Kokichi said, walking into the living room. "He may be a teenager, but he sure as heck has the brain of a seven-year-old!" He gave Himiko a kiss on her cheek. "What's the matter, Monkey Buns?"
"Kimiko is acting up again!" Himiko answered. "Nyeh...Kokichi, if we ever end up having kids, remind me not to get a teenager!"
"Yeah...they're not a very good breed of children," Kokichi joked with a cheeky grin. "They're super moody, socially awkward, and difficult to keep on a leash."
"I don't know whether to laugh, or be offended," Tomiko said.
"Nee-heehee...I usually have that effect on people," Kokichi said proudly.
"Hey!" Himiko cried, turning Kimiko's doppelganger over. "Th-This isn't Kimiko!"
"What do you mean?" Kokichi asked, raising a brow. He looked closer at the doppelganger. "It looks like her to me." Tomiko smacked Kimiko's copy. It didn't move.
"It's a doppelganger," she breathed in disbelief. "She created a doppelganger of herself! It'll only do what Kimiko tells it to do." Himiko's eyes widened.
"Oh, no!" she cried. "That means she's not here!"
"She must have sneaked away to...'go to the park,' as she so eloquently put it yesterday," Kokichi said. Himiko looked worriedly at him.
"Do you think that was a lie?" she asked in a small voice.

"No," Kokichi replied, shaking his head. "I know that was a lie."
"W-Why didn't you say anything?!" Himiko cried.
"Chibi-Kichi said she wanted to handle it," Kokichi replied.
"And you just let her do that?!" Himiko cried.
"Well, I mean...you didn't do anything about it, either, Himiko," Kokichi pointed out. "You could have just asked Chibi-Kichi yourself what was going on."
"Well, you're the brains in our relationship!" Himiko exclaimed. "You can't expect me to figure that out!"
"As the oldest of Kimiko and me...yeah, we kinda have to expect you to figure that out," Tomiko interjected. Himiko shot a glare at Tomiko, who shrank back under the covers.
"Tomiko does have a point, Himiko," Kokichi said firmly. "You need to take responsibility as the oldest sister when your mom and grandma aren't around. You're their leader, so whatever happens to them, you're mostly to blame." Himiko looked at him in disbelief. Kokichi held up his hands. "I'm only speaking from experience. As the Supreme Leader, I had to learn that, too. But, it's true. As the oldest, you can't expect your sisters to lead themselves. You have to be the example. As the one in charge, you're responsible for their well-being. If you don't know what Kimiko is doing while she's out of the house, it's not her fault if she gets into trouble, it's yours. You have to be more involved with her." Himiko listened silently and nodded her head grimly when he finished speaking.
"Nyeh...you're right," she mumbled. "So...what do we do, now? Should we go over to Kiki's house?" Before Kokichi could answer, they heard the doorbell ringing repeatedly. Kokichi ran over to the door and answered it. Kiki was on the other side, panting her little lungs out as if she just ran a marathon.
"Kiki!" Kokichi exclaimed. Himiko and Tomiko joined Kokichi at his sides. Kokichi knelt down and held Kiki's shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"W-Where's Kimiko?!" Himiko demanded.
"No...time...to talk," Kiki panted. "F-Follow...me!" She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling light-headed and fell forward into Kokichi's arms. Kokichi picked her up.
"Kiki...where's Kimiko?" he asked, gently nudging her. Kiki cracked her eyes open.
"With...Junko..." she said. Kokichi and Himiko's eyes widened with horror.
"JUNKO?! " they cried simultaneously.
Part Ten
Kokichi and Himiko stepped outside with Kiki still in Kokichi's arms. The once sunny, blue sky had taken a dark, foreboding green turn. The clouds became charcoal black. The air became eerily silent. No wind. No warmth. The temperature around them dropped to the point where they could see their breath.
"Welp, either the forecast for today was wrong, or Junko suddenly knew how to control the weather," Kokichi joked wryly. They looked over in the distance towards the city. Right above the tallest building, the clouds were swirling like inky snakes curling around their prey. Flashes of green lightning streaked upwards towards the sky.
"And Kimiko's with her," Himiko whispered in horror, shuddering as she rubbed her arms with her hands to generate heat. "What is Junko doing to her? How is Junko doing all of this?"
"She's using Kimiko's magic," Kiki replied grimly. Kokichi and Himiko gasped.

"W-What...are you talking about?" Himiko stammered nervously. "Kimiko doesn't have mag-"
"I know about your guys' magic," Kiki interrupted. "Kimiko told me about it. But, that's not important right now." Kiki explained everything, even the reason why Kimiko started acting up in the first place. She told them how manipulative Junko was. She told them about meeting up with Kyoko and figuring out Junko's plot for revenge. Kokichi couldn't help but smile proudly at her as he listened. Kiki turned to Himiko. "Right now, Junko's using Kimiko to lure you over to her, so she can get rid of you, especially since she doesn't think you'll fight Kimiko." Himiko shuddered, turning to Kokichi with wide eyes.
"We have to go, Himiko," Kokichi said firmly. "Junko already knows about your magic. Who knows what else she'll use Kimiko for? We have to stop her. For Kimiko's sake." Himiko put on a brave face and nodded.
"Right!" she said. "Let's go!"
"We can take the Mischief Maker," Kokichi said, referring to the moped that Miu had invented for them. Kokichi put Kiki down. "Stay here, Chibi-Kichi, alright? I don't want you getting hurt."
"Okay, Kokichi," Kiki nodded. "Be careful." Kokichi kissed her forehead and hopped up onto the Mischief Maker with Himiko right behind him. Then, they drove off towards the tallest skyscraper in the city. Kiki watched as they rode away. She didn't want to disobey Kokichi, but she couldn't sit there and do nothing. Her gut was telling her to follow them, and so she decided to do just that.
***
Once Kokichi and Himiko arrived at the skyscraper, they hurriedly entered it, and took the elevator to the roof. The elevator doors opened to a horrific sight: Kimiko with an evil grin with Junko standing behind her with an equally menacing grin. Himiko gaped at her sister's overall appearance that matched Junko's
"Glad you could make it," Junko said. "We've been expecting you, haven't we, Kimiko?"
"Nyeh...that's right, Big Sis Junko," Kimiko answered. Himiko slowly approached Kimiko.
"Kimiko...don't do this," she said, pleading with her sister. "Please, come with me."
Why? So you two can break Kimiko's heart again?" Junko asked. She grabbed Kimiko's shoulders and crouched down to her level, murmuring in her ear. "Remember how you felt when you saw them kissing, Kimiko? How they totally left you out, and didn't even care about you? They don't care about you. Kokichi only tries to be nice because he thinks you're annoying." Kimiko glared at Kokichi, her eyes filled with hatred.
"Kimiko, that's not true," Kokichi said firmly. "Don't believe her."
"Why should Himiko, the ugly sister, get Kokichi all to herself?" Junko continued. "Don't you think you deserve better, Kimiko?"
"Leave her alone!! Get away from her!!" Himiko yelled furiously. She ran towards Junko and Kimiko. Kimiko aimed her wand at Himiko, causing Himiko to stop dead in her tracks.
"Ah-ah-ah..." Junko said, wagging her finger at Himiko. "One more step, and your sister here will end you." Kimiko grinned evilly at Himiko. Tears formed in Himiko's eyes.
"K-Kimiko..." she whispered.
"You never loved me," Kimiko growled, her indignant voice stinging Himiko. "You wanted everything for yourself. You wanted Kokichi for yourself. I loved him and you took him away from me!"
"Kimiko, no!" Himiko cried. "I do love you! I really do! I just want what's best for you!"
"Kokichi's what's best for me," Kimiko said.
"Kimiko, if you think I'm what's best for you, will you listen to me?" Kokichi said. Kimiko turned to Kokichi, now aiming her wand at him. Kokichi held up his hands. "Listen to me, Kimiko. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to."
"He's lying," Junko hissed in Kimiko's ear.
"Don't listen to Junko, Kimiko," Kokichi said firmly.
"He's just trying to be nice again," Junko continued. "He doesn't care about you at all!" Tears fell from Kimiko's eyes.
"Y-You...you're lying!" she cried.
"No, Kimiko, I'm not," Kokichi said. "Junko is the one who's lying to you. You're nicer than this, Kimiko! Remember when we played beauty salon, and you did my hair and nails? Remember when I took you next door to see the puppet show? Remember that? It was fun, right?" Kimiko lowered her wand a bit.
"Those were all lies," Junko said quickly. "He was actually annoyed that he had to deal with you. He'd rather spend time with Himiko instead of you." Kimiko became blinded with rage all over again.
"I HATE YOU!!" she screeched at Kokichi. "LEAVE ME ALONE!!" Green, magical energy formed around her wand, and she shot it straight at Kokichi. He held up his arms, blocking his face, then slowly opened his eyes, realizing that he hadn't been hit. Instead, Himiko stood in front of him, holding up her Guardian Mage staff. She had blocked Kimiko's attack.
"That's enough!" Himiko demanded.
"Oooh...so you're going to fight your sister after all?" Junko said with an evil grin. "I must admit, I didn't expect that." Himiko's lip quivered, but she forced herself to lift her chin and remain calm.
"I'm not going to fight her," Himiko said. "I'm going to make you give her over to me, if it's the last thing I ever do!"
"I don't think you have a choice," Junko sneered. "If you're not willing to fight your sister, I guess you've already lost. She is my protector, after all. She'd do anything to protect me, won't you, Kimiko?"
"Yes, Big Sis Junko," Kimiko replied obediently, glaring at Himiko. Junko narrowed her eyes at Himiko, her grin menacing and deadly.

"Destroy her," she murmured in Kimiko's ear.

47 years old, but very fit. I’ve been playing competitive soccer in open age divisions up until last year when I moved to over 40.
I’ve played both roller and ice most of my life up until I started getting back into footy. As a roller hockey player I was pretty elite, well into my thirties and am looking to get back to that level in my age bracket (40+) and after a few sessions on my own it’s all come back fairly quickly.
The one thing that’s hurting me though (literally) is my top hand wrist/forearm. At first I thought it might be arthritis is my wrists from decades of hockey, but today it’s shot up into my forearm. Again this is my top hand and felt it sharply on a cross body wrist shot.
Anyone have any experience with top hand/wrist pain? I’m gonna ice it for now, maybe some Tylenol (can’t do Advil, ulcers).
God, this is such an old man thread, ulcers/arthritis…😂. One good thing is it’s so much less impact on my arthritic knees!

It was in sixth grade that students received their first wand and learned their first spells. But they learned that it wasn’t like in the movies they watched, where the main characters were prodigies and not only mastered easy spells but accomplished difficult ones as well. They learned the basics and learned slowly, and much of it surprised them, like the amount of effort that needed to be put into diction and mental focus, not just waving their wand.
One of my students was doing quite well and, I assume since he thought movies were much like real life, asked when we would be doing more advanced spells. He, and several others, were visibly disappointed when I explained how slowly they would be learning magic, step by step.
“All right, I think it’s important that you understand something,” I told them, leaning against my desk as I looked out at them. Taking a breath and letting it out, wondering how to phrase what I wanted to communicate to them, I eventually asked, “Who wants to learn fire spells?”
Many hands went up. Not all, but quite a few.
“Who thinks that they’re ready to do fire spells?”
At their age, they recognized the difference in phrasing and there were hands that went up, but slower and with more caution.
I grinned. “Who wants to hear about the time I first tried a fire spell?”
You won’t be surprised to hear all hands went up at that one.
“All right, well,” I said, folding my arms, “I’d been doing magic for almost two years, and became very comfortable with my wand. Of course, when I say that, I mean I had just finished seventh grade. Levitation had come easily to me, and I was great at it by that point, able to lift as much as I could with my arms. Wind spells…water spells…a few others. I’d gotten quite good at the easy stuff. But I wanted to do more. I wanted to do something cool.”
I grimaced, hinting at the bad ending to the story. “I was at my desk in my room, and I’d taken a candle from my mother’s bathroom. For a few weeks I’d practiced just as much as I would learning any other spell, working on my pronunciation and intent and focus. And that was another hint that something was beyond me; I hadn’t so much as once spoken to someone who was proficient. Learning from someone who knows their stuff is how you discover clever strategies of learning spells, like imagining your pencil is a balloon filled with helium to get better at levitation.”
Several of the students looked curious at that. It was always good to drop in at least a little extra knowledge when going off on a tangent, I figured. “You also learn things like clearing your work area a good amount for fire spells, which I hadn’t read in any of the instructions I’d read online. So, I took my wand, gave the command, and a flicker of flame came from the end of my wand. And caught on the book on a shelf that was only a few inches away from the candle.” A few gasps came from my students, as well as a few embarrassed giggles at the blunder.
“The thing was, I’d done a good job,” I said tiredly. “The flame had caught well. I wasn’t sure what to do, and my mind spun furiously trying to find a solution, and at that point I was mostly worried about getting in trouble. I knew water spells, but of course I didn’t know conjuration, not at a seventh grade level. I rushed to the bathroom and took the toothbrushes out of the cup they were in, filled up the cup with water, and rushed back to my bedroom, splashing it on the fire to try to put it out. But by that point, the fire had spread to more books. One cup of water didn’t cut it.”
At this point, the students started to look concerned. Fire was no joke, they knew that much about magic, and likely they were imagining themselves in such a predicament. What do you do? Do you call a parent? Do you let yourself get in trouble, or risk things getting even more out of control?
“Luckily, the fire alarm on my bedroom ceiling went off, and my mother ran in. She put it out with a conjuration of water, and I was left with half my desk burnt and soggy,” I told them. “And in big trouble. But as you realized while I was telling this story…it could’ve been a lot worse. Now, I’m not telling you this to make you concerned about learning fire spells; I’m telling you this to cover a bigger lesson, which is to remember that the curriculum of magic is laid out in a very specific order, and it’s very important to learn each spell from here to the end of high school, or college, with someone experienced and in a safe environment.
“It’s great fun to go to the pier at the beach and see impressive displays of fire spells, but often you’ll find yourself wondering what it looked like the first time they tried the spell. And it’s not like what you see in movies or shows, because they are concerned with telling a story, not with accuracy. That fire juggler at the pier is much older than you and has been working with fire for many years. Not only that, but when it comes to any dangerous skill, you do get hurt. It’s just part of the deal. The next time you can ask questions of an adult who’s talented in magic that can be dangerous, ask them how often they got hurt first learning. And ask them how often they get hurt, when the last time was that it happened. Learning new tricks, even as an adult, can be dangerous.”
One of the girls in the class raised her hand. “Yes, Leanna?” I spoke.
“Are you good at fire spells now?” she asked.
I grinned. “Yes, but I am not allowed to do them in the classroom.” The sounds of disappointed children echoed through my classroom of students. “You’re eager to learn, that’s good. I hope that excitement stays with you when you need to practice everything in the homework you’ll have. Now, please open your books to chapter three. Speaking of steps, it’s time to take the next one.”