Nasty cough and achy body

I just spent my 35th birthday with my father and stepmother. I’m his late in life baby; my half-siblings were 18 and 20 when I was born. He’s 77 now.
I live out of the country but ensure that I visit for a few days every 6-8 weeks; I am blessed to have a job that enables frequent travel.
After he retired, my father moved from the state I grew up in back to the state he’s from, and where my siblings have always resided. I remember frequent visits to their state as a child, but only one instance of either sibling visiting us in my home state. At the time, this seemed normal to me - they had minor children, and my mother, their stepmom, was a difficult and nasty woman. But, they’ve been split since I was 13, and writing this now I can’t remember a single visit of theirs after the divorce.
I recall my father drinking beer, but never remember tracking it in my childhood or teenage years. In my culture, dads drank beer - that was a given, and nothing to examine. I do remember though him getting very angry sometimes, being constantly negative, talking about himself and how he fixed THIS thing that no one else could figure out, etc I found him a struggle to be around as a young teen and felt very guilty for it.
When I was 19, my dad got prostate cancer. I moved off my college campus to live with him, to care for him after his surgery and buy his adult diapers. Between his sweetheart of a girlfriend and I, we nursed him back to health. When my father talks about this period, however, the highlight that’s mentioned is how wonderful and selfless it was for my then-40 year old brother to drive up for a single day after his surgery.
After retirement he moved to the state my siblings are in along with his girlfriend, whom he finally, thankfully, married. He lives about 40 miles away from my brother. Years passed, but my siblings didn’t visit or call. My brother would reach out, but only if he had a truck or work machinery in need of repair; he let me elderly father tow his repaired truck to his home because he “didn’t have time” to go get it. Meanwhile, not unnoticed by my dad, he spends 3 full weeks at his wife’s parents’ out of state, helping them remodel their home.
My father and his wife re-sided their house alone.
When my father’s outbuildings - and nearly home - burned down while I was out of the country, neither sibling showed.
Once, they claimed they were coming to Thanksgiving and everyone bailed last minute, leaving them with a fully cooked meal and no one at the table.
This has been the pattern for years.
My sister - at 50 - paid a once-every-three-years visit and talked about herself the whole time, announcing to them that “this is the year of ME.”
On this visit, my father told me that “for my birthday” he’s inviting them all to breakfast. I was upset - it starts a cycle of him checking his phone desperate for a text. My brother claimed he would show, but canceled while we were en route, claiming a bad gut. I scoffed and my father defended him, as he always does.
My father spent the weekend deeply upset, drinking away his feelings, refusing to admit that he is angry at my siblings for their neglect. He just pounds beer all day instead, and at night switches to a bottle of wine.
By 5pm he’s slurring, repetitive, and living in the past. Everything that comes from him travels a well-worn groove - there is no present, nothing new, and no future, just figments of the past played on repeat.
I don’t know what I’m looking at to be honest. I don’t know why my siblings are this way - did he do something unforgivable when they were young? They smile to his face, act like nothing is wrong. Can they really be so cruel?
I talk to my father about his drinking sometimes. This time, I said dad, it’s poisoning you, you know. It’s poisoning your brain and body. He gazed into the distance and said something honest, “well I’ll have to die of something…. can’t run a race car anymore.” Racing was an activity he shared briefly with my brother, and one he excelled at in his youth in the 70s. It represents a lot of things to him. But what I took from that is he knows he’s killing himself.
I am just so angry and so sad. I am sad for his loneliness, and isolation, and rejection. But I’m angry that he refuses to move forward. I’m angry that he takes my own presence for granted. I know what “busy” is - I work 14 hour days - but I am there, with him, regularly and whenever he needs me. Yet he absolves them, “well, they’re busy.” I’m sad and angry that he won’t fight for his life. That he has a wonderful wife who he could have an exciting present with, and a future, but she can’t even take him anywhere because he indulges so wantonly in hating everything. I am angry and disgusted when people stop by to visit and he can only talk about how amazing he is, alienating them with the same repetitive lines I’ve heard for years.
I don’t know what to do with all this emotion. If nothing changes he will die of liver failure, and I will have to watch the whole thing.
What a heavy weight to carry.
Thanks for listening. Any insight or advice is welcome.

TLDR: I’m not upset over the sexy characters in games like Stellar Blade or Devil May Cry, I’m upset over how real men are treating real women.
Longer version:
Title says it all. This is something I’ve been mulling over, and honestly, I feel like this is one of the few places I would feel comfortable posting about this.
So, Stellar Blade. Gamer Gate 2.0 (Or Goonergate as they’re calling it on X).
I’ve never shied away from talking about my attraction to fictional men. I’ve talked about, on this very subreddit too, about how I fantasize about the nasty things Daddydorf (Ganondorf, for those who might not know) could do to me. So, I feel it’s hypocritical of me to shame men for doing the same thing to fictional women.
I mean, to be fair, TOTK Ganondorf isn’t exactly a picture perfect representation of men. Why should I be upset over some dude doing the same thing I do? Because the character is a woman?
Now, here’s where I do get upset. When I talk about my attraction to Ganondorf, I never dehumanize real world men. I never talk about how disgusting they are. How they age terribly. How certain men from a certain part of the globe are unworthy of love, decency, respect, or rights, purely on the basis of not wanting to fuck them. I have talked about real world men like they’re pieces of meat, rather than human beings.
These guys though. These dudes who talk about how the women from these games are waaaaay better than women from the real world. We age, some of us have a waistline bigger than one inch. Some of us have stretch marks, back rolls, zits, acne, and (LE GASP) hair on our bodies. We also have personalities that aren’t one dimensional. We’re also able to argue and talk back. These reasons make us unfuckable, and therefore, undeserving of being treated like Human beings.
No, Gamer bro who may or may not come across this, I’m not upset that you get off to some pixels. I’m upset that you take that attraction and make it about how I’m lesser than because of it. There are a ton of men in my life who I care deeply for, and my life is that much better for them being in my life. Just because I don’t want to fuck them, doesn’t mean I don’t view them as a person. I want that respect returned to me.
You want to jack it to fictional characters? Fine. I want to be viewed as a Human being. I want my hard work to be rewarded on the bases of my hard work and not on how good I look. I want my rights to not be flushed down the drain. I want there to not be people in public office who think I shouldn’t be able to vote because I’m a woman. I want abortion to be a universal right of every in the US.
I’m fully capable of separating fiction from reality. Why can’t these guys?
I hope I’m making sense. If this kind of post isn’t welcomed, just delete it and I’ll get the message. Thanks for reading.

A Massacre of One by IWantBlankets
Summary:

“So basically, you've got some freaky ass death quirk, which only activates when you are killed, that puts your consciousness in the head of whoever did you in?” Izuku sighed dejectedly. “Deku?” “Yeah?” “That's the worst fucking quirk I’ve ever heard of.” “Yeah,” he repeated quietly. Izuku has the Butcher’s power from Worm, causing his consciousness to wake up in the head of whoever is responsible for his death.

Okay so this type of long fic is not usually up my alley. Unless they're written like an episodic TV show with an overarching plot, I find unpolished debut long fics like this to be meandering. There are rare exceptions, though, and those rare exceptions are usually both crazy and funny.
This fic is CRAZY. Despite being a crossover between Worm and MHA, it is not a merging of worlds or characters, nor does it even use Worm's main power set. Instead, it uses the power set of a crazy side character as a crack quirk for Izuku.
That brings us to our next point: This fic is FUNNY! Weirdly funny for how grim the concept is. For goodness sake, Bakugou accidentally murders Izuku in a freak accident, and that's only the beginning of the gruesome murders.
Yet, despite this, or maybe because of it, the fic is COMEDY GOLD. I still remember the jokes in this fic despite barely remembering the fever dream plot points. The issue is getting to those jokes can be a little tedious, since reading it can feel like you're being taken on a bizarre rollercoaster of quirk technicalities and murder attempts, which is less crack than it seems and more a genuine take on how this power set would be utilized by Deku and Bakugou.
However, it's great if you like quirk analysis, creative power combinations, bickering, and identity shenanigans. Vigilante action, hero student bs, Dadzawa, mentoring Dabi, epic battles, spy espionage, etc. The overarching plot, antagonist characterization, etc. is not bad so far and feels like it's genuinely going somewhere. Plus, despite the grim subject matter, part of the quirk's mechanics is that it numbs the human feasadness surrounding death, so the people who end up sharing a consciousness aren't actually bummed out about dying. No angst, just crack.
Also, I skipped the first chapter and to when they get merked by the slime villain to get to the good bits LOL
SPOILERS
Let me write some jokes that I remember dying at. Spoilers since some plot points are in there and because the jokes are better if unexpected, but maybe these will help the fencesitters on deciding whether or not to read.

“Hey, at least I'm not quirkless anymore!" “And what a great way to find out, being fucking murdered!” Izuku sighed dejectedly.
“Nope!” Izuku chirped. “We will just have to figure it out as we go.” He dug around in their torso for the phone and pulled up a diagram of a vocal track. He formed a pair of crude lungs to store air in, Thankfully the mouth that they could manifest with Ooze could include a tongue, so he didn't have to try and sculpt one with slime. He tried to form some vocal cords but wasn't really sure how they worked. Curiously he tried pushing air out. It came out a breathy wheeze. “Well better than the gurgle from last night anyways. Here you go form another voice track on the other side of the head that way we can both practice.” he said to Kachan.

He felt Kachan form something identical to his on the other side of the body. The voice continued to not take shape, since the vocal cords were not vibrating like they were supposed to. He wondered why not. After some contemplation he realized it might be Kanchan's secondary quirk involved. He relaxed the stiffening and immediately the vocal cord started flapping like a soggy towel in the wind. He cringed at the sound. It was like somebody with a wet cough. He added more thickness and shortened the length he re stiffened them until the cords started buzzing. It sounded nothing like a voice, but it was still progress.
Once Kachan heard the sound he copied Izuku's new voice tract. Soon the air was filled with two notes that sounded unfortunately like a woodwind instrument. Izuku sighed with his new lungs and resigned himself to many hours of practice.
.........
Katsuki was sick of practicing with their voice. The result was still terrible. It was completely understandable but sounded off. Real voices had texture to them and inflection. Their's sounded as freaky as they looked. Like a saxophone decided to start taking. He said to Deku “Nobody's is going to take us seriously sounding like this Deku.”
“Well if we can't make it sound normal without more practice why don't we go for scary.”
Katsuki shot that down with “Nobody will think we're scary Deku! They will laugh as soon as we open our mouth.” Katsuki repeated the sentence out loud. It sounded terrible. It was far too nasal. Unfortunately they lacked a nose to get rid of that quality.
“I have an idea Kachan. Do you remember the spirit hero Specter? They talked through the voices of their spirits. Each voice alone was too quiet to be heard but all layered up it was said to be deafening. As well as scary.”
“We can't have multiple mouths Deku that would look ridiculous.”
“I know, I know ,but let's just try it for now. Repeat a couple of words for a bit i'm going to try to match you.”
Katsuki begrudgingly did so. He paused for a second to think out what to say before saying “Deku is an idiot, Deku is an idiot.” over and over. Deku scowled but obliged and started saying the same thing. He matched it up to Kachan's cadence. Listening to the combined voice was odd. The voices themselves had diverged as he and Katsuki tried different things. However combined they sounded similar to how a choir would. Only with two perfectly matched voices rather than dozens of imperfect ones. Deku formed yet another voice track slightly different than both of the others. He took control of Katsuki's voice too while he was at it. And then out loud in the layered voice he said “ How does this sound Kachan ?”
“Fucking freaky thats how.” He sounded reluctantly impressed as well as irritated. “why does everything we do have to be so creepy? So much for being a cool vigilante, guess we'll just have to go all the way down horror lane.”
"Your the one who wanted to scare criminals Kachan."
"Yeah, Yeah" Katsuki muttered
Deku combined all of the voice tracks into one mouth he added a few more with varying lengths and shape he replied to Katsuki “Well if you want to spend a few more days practicing we can try for a normal voice I guess.” Deku laughed out loud when Katsuki flinched at the sound. He laughed even harder when the angry boy recoiled even more at the sound of their new laugh.
“No way, we are not wasting another day on this nonsense!” he sighed but added “ Just try not to talk very much.” chapter 8

He regained consciousness to the strangest thing, most of his body was sleeping and he definitely had been previously but a tendril of slime was holding his phone in front of him and his eyes were glazed over staring at it. Literally, there was a layer of fresh slime coating the surface of his eyeballs so they wouldn't dry out from being constantly open. He stayed still hoping they wouldn't notice he was awake. He felt a giggle come from Suran as he scrolled past yet another photo of a puppy.
Hitoshi accidentally blinked his eyes out of habit and felt the goopy slime drip down his face disgustingly. Suran’s consciousness instantly retreated from controlling his body and the phone dropped and hit his face. He sat up and rubbed the last of the goop from his eyes before remembering he could just absorb it and save himself the trouble.
“Ugh! Are you guys just controlling my body while I sleep?! What the hell! ”
“Shinsou you're awake!” Deku responded, “And yeah, kinda. But what else are we supposed to do just watch you sleep for eight hours a day?”
“Why don't you just sleep too? ” he questioned incredulously.
“Our consciousnesses only need a couple hours of rest a night. We usually spend the rest of the time looking at our phone.”
“You mean my phone. ”
“Well either way, we owe Suran fifteen, well I guess thirteen now, hours of phone time for helping us take over Muscular.” Deku said.
chapter 34
“Of course she has to wait until we are at UA. I bet she's going to make us go out on a school night,” Kacchan muttered. “Oh no! We can't go beat the shit out of villains on a school night,” Suran mocked. “Shut up! We aint gonna be a fucking dropout like you slimy,” Kacchan yelled back. chapter 38
“Shinsou, what did you mean earlier when you said that one of us was a woman?” Izuku asked. “What do you mean ‘what did I mean’?” Shinsou replied, sounding a little confused. “Well since we are all guys it didn’t make any fucking sense, Droopy, ” Kacchan said “But you're not? ” Shinsou responded “Um, yes we are, I think?” Izuku said “Wait a fucking minute. Do you think one of us is a girl?” Kacchan asked, sounding a little flabbergasted. “Yes? Deku?” Shinsou responded as though it were obvious. Kacchan started laughing uproariously and was quickly joined by Suran. Kachan stopped to yell “Hah! You think Deku is a chick!” Then he went back to laughing. “W-why did you th-think that?” Izuku stammered out, feeling extremely embarrassed and knowing that they all knew he was. “You sound like a girl!” Shinsou yelled back, and Izuku could feel that he was almost as embarrassed as himself. “I do not!” Izuku responded “You do too! ” He cried “Deku—” Kacchan had to stop to laugh some more before continuing, “—Deku, you’re forgetting something, Your fucking quirk doesn't make us sound like anything. It makes us sound like however they expect us to.” “S-so this whole time you’ve actually been a guy, Deku? ” Shinsou asked “Uh, y-yeah. I guess I never realized that this could be a problem, ” Izuku said. “Holy shit, this is the best thing that has happened since Muscular’s head fucking exploded,” Kacchan wheezed.
“Watch it dipshit! You almost hit me!” He screamed at him.

“Sorry, I didn't realize you weren't paying attention.” The boy said.
It’s not that he wasn't paying attention. He just kept forgetting to turn his head. He was so used to Deku manually moving the eyes around to keep anything relevant in view. He was starting to get really fed up with Shinsou’s obnoxious bones. (chapter 33)

...

“What the hell is up with you three and your hate-on for bones?” Hitoshi muttered under his breath as he nodded to the woman and grabbed a mat.
“Uhg don't get me started, ” Kachan groaned. “For one they break all the time. ”
“Yeah, and you can't move right. You go to do something and there is a bone in your way.” Deku added.
“They make weird popping noises all the time which is fucking gross.” Suran piped in.
“They're moist.” Deku said in a voice of absolute disgust.
“You can't use big explosions without dislocating something.” Kachan said, sounding like somebody that had absolutely done that before.
“Okay, Okay, I get it. Jeez, you guys don't like bones.”

chapter 36

I'll keep this as short as possible. In one absolute hellish situation and now struggling to sleep following an incident at work.
I work in a small office for a large company, usually just myself and one other colleague. We have worked alongside each other in this way for around 6 years. Other than a biggish fall out 5 years ago, we manage to get on, I'd consider us to actually be closeish and work well together. However, she is absolutely hopeless at even the basics of the job and I have raised the issues many times before, asked to be moved onto another shift as it's been getting on my nerves how she is and having to do someone else's work for them.
The other day some petty argument exploded and after a massive overreaction on her part, we got into an argument and she said that she was going home. We had a back and forth and by this point I was at my limit and told her to fuck off.
She went to call our manager and say she was going home and likely say it's because of me etc Rather than call our immediate line manager she called the area manager (who she's friends with) and previously heard she's painted an unfavourable picture of me. I've felt the frostiness of this person over the years but nothing I can do to change that.
At the time of this argument she did retort about me swearing at her so I have an idea she will make a complaint about it.
I've previously been off with stress in this job (due to a work related traumatic incident) and lately have felt incredibly low, been applying to other jobs and it's been my intention to leave but now I'm worried that this colleague will want to fuck me over and this will result in some disciplinary, I don't think the area boss will be lenient with me at all. I'm worried I may even get sacked for this.
I spoke to my line manager right after this happened and let her know what happened and how I've been feeling lately and with all that's happened, it's a good time for me to have a break and take some time off. She has always been supportive (with the earlier sickness/PTSD) but I know there's only so much she can do and would be overruled by the one above.
I've been doing all I can to move on from this job, have gone back to uni and wanting to leave this job as the last few years have been very unhappy for me. I've seen my colleagues nasty side before and even though we were once friends and close colleagues for some time, I don't trust her at all and fear she will want to see me in trouble.
I am first and foremost worried about a potential bad reference from this company once I've left. I'm so stressed and my mood is so low and the prospect of getting sacked and not being able to secure a new job is keeping me awake at night. I don't want to jump the gun and resign as it may not be necessary.
This all just happened in the past few days so I'm waiting for a phone call telling me the worst, or that I've to attend a disciplinary meeting. A friend said I could maybe contact me colleague to apologise for my part in the argument. My first thought was "Over my dead body" as I'm still angry about what happened and will rejoice the day I never have to look at this woman again. It may help the situation if something were to develop.
Not that poor mental health is an excuse to swear at a colleague, but it may mitigate what happened. It's something I've discussed before with my boss. I don't really know what I'm asking here. Just trying not to freak out and getting myself in such a state.

I told my therapist I cannot believe how long this (leaving my husband of 18 years) is taking me. I have been truly miserable since 2015 and thinking I was even before that and for so long gave pieces of myself to him to try to make him happy even if it meant I was falling apart.
I look back at the past with shame and hurt but I know there is so much I have repressed and swept under the rug instead of dealing with and feeling as was my coping mechanism.
It's been 610 days since I've let him touch me. 610 days since the line in the sand was crossed and he threw things at me with one making contact. Before that, it was emotional and mental hits and holes punched in the wall. That day, I saw the rage in his eyes and something broke with me. We could never go back to the cycle as it was only going to escalate from here. I would no longer allow him access to my body when he did nothing to protect my heart and soul. That's something I never thought would happen, when I would give him sexual pleasure to try to make him feel better for so many years but was lacking a partner and a consistent, loving relationship. I am proud that it has been 610 days and even more proud that I will live the rest of my life never being intimate with him again.
My therapist tells me I need to be proud of this but then I look at the situation and feel shame.
Here we are 610 days later and here's what's going on:
-We sleep in our bed in shifts. I don't want to be in the bed with him period.
-He does not have a job and I support our two kids and him. I pay all of the household bills, food, clothes, gas, etc...he now feels like one of my children too (gross!)
-I told him our romantic and intimate relationship was over forever almost a year ago and was ready to move out. I froze in my tracks when he told me my moving out would make everything harder for everyone and we should just be roommates (it just dawned on me, roommates usually put in equal work) and then turned very nasty telling me I was abandoning him when he was sick and I knew who he was when I married him. That conversation, I'm still recovering from. It was terrible. The trauma bond is real and I need a machete to cut it.
-He claims he has ADHD and uses that as an excuse for non-functioning but does nothing to try to seek help for it beyond watching some YouTube videos
-I've realized my teenage son feels a lot of the same feelings about his dad that I do...he told me he doesn't even know if his dad loves him and also said his dad is a selfish, manipulative jerk who only cares about himself while crying.
I don't want to live this life anymore. It is killing me...
And then my fear paralyzes me.

I [31] have been recovering from bronchitis and have had a really nasty cough for a couple of weeks. My bf [31] invited me away for the weekend to his parents holiday house (just the two of us) and unfortunately during sex, I coughed really badly which made me pee a little bit on the bed. I was obviously pretty embarrassed and asked my bf to help me strip the sheets and wash them. He told me there was no washing powder and to just leave the sheets on the floor and he would tell his mum.
I told him not to tell his mum (I've only met her once) because I was embarrassed and didn't want his whole family to know. I offered to go down the road to buy laundry detergent or take them to a coin laundry but he refused and started to get stern, telling me he would not be wasting his day at a coin laundry. He told me I was overreacting and he had to be honest with his mum about what happened. I told him he doesn't need to tell her if I can resolve the issue which he won't let me do. I guess he doesn't mind if I feel humiliated.
He told me that the right thing to do was to just tell his mum and that she would understand. I said to him that if the same thing had happened to him, I would help him clean the sheets and not just jump straight to telling my mother. He told me that's not a comparable situation because my relationship with my mother is different.
Am I right to feel angry and hurt by his response? I feel like he has been refusing to acknowledge how embarrassed it has made me but maybe I am being sensitive.
TLDR: I peed on the bed, bf wouldn't let me wash the sheets and insisted that I was overreacting about feeling embarrassed when he told me he would be telling his mother.

It is the day, where military force of Valerie here, finally goes into offensive. Jakan and I travel along with one of the heroes of the riven war, Kyrem, who is leading the cavalry archer battalion we are to be his eyes and ears of enemy movement. As we ride our horses, I wondered the source of Jakan happiness.
This time, it is different, this must have something to do with Jakan and one of the five heroes of riven war, Lankensy. They pressed their upper arms perpendicularly against each other, they chuckled to each other, then separated to get to their duties. I chose to not ask as it isn't important but, doesn't stop my curiosity.
We have reached our deployment position, I look at Kyrem, he nods to us. Commence reconnaissance, Jakan and I separate from the cavalry archer battalion to scout in peace. It took us a while to actually find undead formations within the area, but, even Jakan let out a coughing sigh from the sight of the numbers we are seeing.
'Winter's roar... If there is even one more formation like that... The cavalry battalions have a tough time... Something I should have expected but, mostly considered unlikely...' Jakan states mildly alarmed by the number of undead in the rectangular formation.
'Fyregeld would need to take part very early... Which is most likely going to be disadvantageous later?' Ask for a confirmation of what I suspect Jakan is thinking.
'Yes... Fyregeld most certainly will be needed in the fight...' Jakan replies still mildly astounded how large the formation is. We move on to continue scouting, but, this is bad news, I guessing both of us are suspecting that this formation's purpose is to alarm the town that they are going to be attacked very soon.
Unfortunately for us, there is a second formation that is just as large as the first one more to the south of south west of the town, while this one is to the south west of it. 'Great, just, bloody fantastic... I will have some choice words for the Valerian scouts, these are probably twice or even thrice the number of undead compared to what they reported...' Jakan says upset about the situation.
'And, these two are part of the three we are supposed to lure into attacking the cavalry... The Valerians are most certainly going to have a bad day...' Reply quietly to try to ease Jakan's mood. It does work...
'Right, let's go look for the third... Hopefully it won't be as big as this and the previous...' Jakan states calmly, remembering that we aren't supposed to take part in the fight against these, but, reports are almost certainly going to be ugly.
Third formation, behind the first formation we scouted is still big but, probably by a third smaller, still a risky fight but, not unwinnable. Jakan told me that best way to beat this one with the forces nearby, would be, that cavalry archers would jog past it while firing arrows into the formation from the rear and front, as the formation is fairly tight and there aren't enough shields.
The undead casualties would be high, the cavalry archers would only stay as long as to bait the enemy to charge them, which leaves them open to be charged by the Valerian cavalry battalion, under the command of Tyrelia, one of the heroes of riven war. It's going to be a nasty melee but, one that would be the most effective on completely destroying this formation.
Follow up maneuvers would be that the cavalry archers, once they are being pursued, will regroup to attack the large south western formation, while once the cavalry battalion has routed or utterly destroyed this small formation will attack the rear of the southern undead formation, to goad them to pursue them.
Once the cavalry archer battalion has begun the fall back, the cavalry battalion will follow. From there, it is following the plan. The plan discussed yesterday still can be done but, it is going to be a lot more uglier in terms of results than expected. We scouted little bit longer to make sure there aren't other formations nearby.
There is fourth, which we suspect to be a reserve formation for the assault, it is about as big as the third. There is a mistake with it's location however, that is good news for the cavalry archer battalion. They are too far away to assist the large south western formation. Jakan sighed from mild relief. 'Well, at least some kind of good news... Although, once the pursuit is initiated, they most likely will join the battle.' Jakan says to me.
'I agree, thankfully we aren't supposed to give battle assistance in these fights... We would both be sore from the exhaustion later today, or worse, grievously wounded.' Reply to Jakan, he nodded in agreement. Jakan then motioned to me with his head that, this is enough, time to report to battalions. Nodding in agreement we head back.We arrive as Kyrem and Tyrelia are talking with the squadron commanders. 'What are your reports?' Kyrem hails us as we approach.
'Relatively far away from the best news, unfortunately but, there is some good too.' Jakan states calmly knowing that what we have seen, is going bring up mixed feelings. Jakan debriefs all on scene, on what we have discovered.
Kyrem displayed some worry but, when we told about the secondary reserve formation's positional mistake. He began to think about the situation more intensily. Tyrelia also looked worried, she and the battalion under her command, have a work cut out for them...
All squadron commanders deemed the plan still doable but, they all agreed on the fact that, this is going to be a seriously tough skirmish. Now, they need to be quick, Tyrelia gave Jakan a flag pole and a flag for the second part of this operation. 'Anything you would like to say before we begin?' One of the cavalry squadron commanders ask from us.
'For life, for the people, for Valerie.' Jakan states in hardened tone, we must begin and see our parts done in this operation.
'For life, for the people, for Valerie. I agree.' Tyrelia say with high spirit.
'Time to do our duty, all of you ready?' Kyrem asks from all of us.'Yes, sir.' Jakan and I reply without hesitation nor fear. We departed to head towards the north west of the castle. Behind us, pace of the hooves of more than hundred horses began to jog. We will not see them for a while now.
As soon as we arrived to the area we should scout out for any possible formations that might try to take positions north west or west of the castle where the supposed surprise pitched battle is to happen. We begin scouting, for a while, all the way to the past mid day, we do not find any undead formations, they must have combined formations for the assault on the town.
Unfortunately for them, it was done way too early... And now, there is a massive gap in the area control, gap which armed forces of Valerie are now beginning to exploit. We don't know whether the cavalry battalions have made good on their promises at the moment but, unfortunately for the infantry battalions the gap is going to be closed soon.
And there will be a battle that is a hard one for the one Lankensy is leading. These undead formations we are seeing, two of them, are about same size and number as the reserve formations to the south and south west of the town. We will need to improvise, one of those reserve size formations would have been bad enough. As we were heading back.
We see smoke, quite thick and seems to be from the direction where Fyregeld was to be signaled to ignite a forest, which undead infantry would use to try catch up with the formation moving cavalry. Unfortunately for us, we do not know how much damage this has caused and, we, Lankensy and his infantry battalion have a big endeavor ahead of us.
Jakan is still staring at the formations, probably staring at the distance between them. 'We can take them.' Jakan states calmly, which baffled me so much so that I let out an audible what. 'We can take them, We will be outnumbered three to one but, I have a plan.' Jakan adds and shakes his two handed sword slightly.
'I don't think it is enough.' Reply to Jakan in unsure tone as, such numerical advantage is enough for every attacking force to destroy a defending force.
'We will improvise, I will tell you once we reach sir Lanksensy.' Jakan states confidently.
'Okay...' I say slightly shakily, unsure whether it is warrior heart of Jakan making him act stupidly, or soldier's mind that whatever is the adversity, we handle it together... We head to where we agreed to meet Lanksensy and the infantry battalion he is leading in this battle.
Jakan prepared the flag and the flag pole, attaches the flag on the pole, then began to wave it, as the undead formations came into an open ground. Both of soon heard roar from the sky, we looked to the direction and see Fyregeld diving to harass the rear of the second formation of undead behind us.
We continue riding our steeds to the rally point. We reach it in good time, Lankensy was waiting for us with Seirialia. 'Bad news, we will receive undead formation that outnumbers us three to one.' Jakan states immediately before dismounting, I follow him.Lankensy at first seemed quite eager to fight but, such odds sobered his expression. 'We can take them, Fyregeld is already harrassing the formation behind the first one from the rear, so there will be chaos which buys us time.' Jakan says, Lankensy frowns while Seirialia looked grim.
'Tell me you have a plan.' Lankensy says, sounding surprisingly content and a smirk appeared on his lips.
'Yes sir. I will use the runes on my blade to create walls to hide the true number of our forces and act as a small choke point for the infantry to hold, you divide your battalion to three detachments. The center will hold the choke point with all they have, while southern and northern detachments make sure we won't get flanked around the stone walls.
When they begin their attempt to flank, the south and north detachments will begin fighting advance to box in our opponents. Seirialia, your arcane mastery is required, take a high ground and, rain hell on the enemy masses that engage the infantry detachments.' Jakan explains the plan.
Jakan draws his plan on to the dirt with his mace as he speaks. The terrain we are at, most certainly favors us... From that high ground, to the north east, is a perfect place to begin. Lankensy motions the infantry commanders to approach. He briefs them on the plan Jakan has proposed.
'Jakan, this is going to get ugly, but, with this plan... The glory will be quite gorgeous.' Lankensy states as the infantry commanders nod that they will follow this plan.
'This will be an ugly battle but, we will win it. Volarie, I need you to provide me more arcane, if the battle does get bad, with your assistance I will break the ground beneath our foes, so they have to fight from a disadvantageous position.' Jakan says without a hint of worry in his voice.
'Would it be better that I would provide you the assistance Jakan?' Seirialia asks alarmed by proposal from Jakan to me.
'No, we need your skill in magic to disrupt undead and to make sure that they have will have difficult time on concentrating their forces to put pressure on any of the three infantry detachments. Volarie already knows how to do it, and we have done this couple times before.' Jakan replies in calm tone.
I do remember, they were small in scale but, with right amount of concentration, we can do even bigger one. I am still worried though... Seirialia has the better mastery of arcane, I do not have as much skill or energy as her and Jakan's own capacity for arcane is rather limited. The plan is good though...
'Alright, I am ready.' Say finally without hesitation, although, I have some in my heart...
'I will hold the center, Volarie, move with the northern detachment to the position, Jakan you do the same, but with the south. Seirialia, I think you should get into position.' Lankensy says calmly.
'Yes sir.' Jakan and I say.
'Alright, I will trust your judgment.' Seirialia says to Jakan.
'Lady, I will get it done.' Jakan states with serious tone and ready to do everything in his power to win this battle. She nods to Jakan trusting him and I to do our part.
Jakan used the runes on his blade to create the walls, while I went into the position. We began to wait, waiting, the most nerve wrecking part of his plan... Soon, undead were sighted and they immediately rush to engage the choke point, slightly dispersing to begin also go around the stone walls. North infantry detachment began to jog to close the flanks, I go with them.
The plan is so far working, undead began engaging all three points without concentrating to break out through one. Now, we wait again, I listen to the battle raging before me, every now and then look around to see if we are getting flanked. Then I saw big chunks of ice raining into the center of the open left side box, infantry have formed. Second reserve force has now entered the battle.
They also charged right in, this is the moment where Jakan and I, head to the rear of the undead, and break the ground they stand in. As we had practiced, I place my hand on Jakan's left shoulder and begin channeling my arcane energy into him, just as he began to grasp the earth with his hands and began casting an earth rupture spell.
I allowed Jakan to take the lead and just follow him. Spell is complete, and Jakan made a two handed fist, then brought it down onto the dirt in front of him. Like water that got hit by massive weight on it's surface earth ruptured upwards at the center of the box, flinging countless amount of undead into the air.
Soil and stone rained upon the mass of undead, causing further losses of undead infantry. We gaze upon what we caused, both of us spent in terms of arcane. 'It is not enough, the battle still favors them...' Jakan says angrily and looks like he wants to charge in.
'That is a suicide.' Say to him in serious tone. Jakan calms down and thinks.
'Now, we just have to fight hard... Fight your way through to the northern detachment, while I fight to the south. Kills as many as you can cause as much as chaos as possible, when you reach allies, tell them to begin pushing forward with all their might. Because this is it, either they or us, break first.' Jakan says clearly frustrated that it has come to this but, no other options.
We collide our swords and wish fortune to each other, we separated and begin skirmishing. After fighting a while, I reach Valerian infantry northern detachment. 'Push! Push! It is either us or them!' Shout as loud as possible. Their commander heard me, a moment of consideration flashes in his expression, it soon hardens into seriousness.
'Fight, fight, fight with all your might!' He roars and joins the battle. Northern detachment slowly, orderly, but, surely, began taking ground from the undead. I join the commander, who would have distrusted me but, here, in this moment, we are not enemies.
Soon, to the last skeleton, walking dead and fallen's end. The undead were slain, soldiers began collapsing from exhaustion. I hear horses running towards us, turning to look, it is Tyrelia's cavalry battalion, then I look opposite of me, spot Jakan on his knees and relying on his sword, looks more like he is just trying to catch his breath and relax. To my left, I see Lankensy at the center detachment, he also looks quite exhausted
.'Hail hero of the riven war... It is done...' Say with stamina that I still have as Tyrelia approaches us on her steed.
'By the light... How many have you slain?' Tyrelia says as she looks at the ground before the resting soldiers of northern detachment. I think a while...
'Twenty three...' Say still exhausted and look around, Seirialia has reached Lankensy, they embrace each other. Ground quaked a little as Fyregeld landed, he is completely fine, but, his expression tells of bewilderment.
'Fyregeld, we will need to screen for more undead that might head towards here. They need rest not another battle.' Tyrelia states looking at all of the Valerian soldiers who have taken part in this battle.
'I agree wholeheartedly lady Tyrelia. I would like to hear what happened here to have caused a battle of this scale.' Fyregeld says, still quite baffled by the amount of undead that has been slain.
After resting almost to the beginning of dusk. We begin moving back into the castle from the northern entrance. I join Jakan's company who is now feeling a lot better, still exhausted but, at least enough rested that we begin walking our steeds back into the castle. Seeing it better to not ruin the current atmosphere of victorious but, exhausted Valerian soldiers.
I have the intention on breaking the silence between Jakan and I but, then I heard somebody approaching us on a horse and some jogging. We turn to look, and they are Tyrelia, Lankensy and Seirialia. As Lankensy opened his mouth to say something, ground quaked a little and we were joined by Fyregeld.
'What are the reports of commanders Gonzil, Salgi and Tynzio?' Lankensy asks from Tyrelia.
'Only three out of twenty have suffered wounds, by the looks of your battalion, I estimate yours had it worse than them combined.' Tyrelia says in praising tone.
'We ended up having to fight two reserve formations of undead... Thanks to Jakan's plan... It probably would have ended up a whole lot worse.' Lankensy states in humble tone.
'Negative sir...' Jakan sighs out, unwilling to receive praise, not out of that it offends him. 'Real heroes of this battle are the soldiers marching behind us.' Jakan adds mildly worried he might have offended.
'True but, you do deserve some praise draconian... Thanks to your quick thinking, that probably would have turned out to be a victory as bad as defeat.' Lankensy says, mildly amused by Jakan behavior and smiles warmly.
'I would have charged into the center of the undead, if Volarie wouldn't have calmed me down...' Jakan replies keeping composure but, wanting to avoid praise. Curse you Jakan... Don't shove into the spot of light in a cave...
'I only told him, what I believed was on his mind, is a suicide.' Say the truth of the matter.
'Could you both, just stop avoiding our gratitude?' Tyrelia asks teasing us, probably figured out, why we are behaving in this manner.
'With all respect, lady Tyrelia... We are just trying to avoid taking too much praise. We fear that the soldiers wouldn't take it idly.' Jakan replies steadily.
'While I do understand reasoning, you shouldn't downplay your part in this, I believe the commanders would also make it clear to their men, that this was achieved with effort from everybody.' Fyregeld reasons, Jakan just exhales in begrudging manner, probably because what Fyregeld said, is true.
Even I can not find a way to weasel a way out from receiving gratitude from Valerians... 'Alright then...' Jakan replies in slightly defeated tone, declaring his intention to cease avoiding receiving gratitude.
'You are correct lord Fyregeld.' State in slightly defeated tone. Our intention is to maintain as high as possible morale among the Valerian soldiers, we can handle the influence of dark arcane in the air without issues, it is the effect on the soldiers we are most concerned about.
'How bad did it look? Lady Seirialia.' Jakan asks, it makes sense why he asked that. He only had the battle level awareness, while Seirialia had better awareness of the battle situation from the high ground.
'It looked quite bad, after your earth rupture, the battle still was in the favor of the undead, from my position, I could only do so little when I had cast spells that I could.' Seirialia replies smiles warmly, Jaka scoffs in tone telling of his discomfort, knowing that he was correct in his battle assessment in that moment.
'Can you explain the chain of events?' Fyregeld asks from me and Jakan. Jakan looked at me, asking that should we be truthful, I look at him in a manner saying yes. Jakan closes his eyes slowly and rolls his eyes. He explains what transpired in more detail. Tyrelia and Fyregeld listen carefully.
I am more eager to hear their angle on what happened...

It is the day, where military force of Valerie here, finally goes into offensive. Jakan and I travel along with one of the heroes of the riven war, Kyrem, who is leading the cavalry archer battalion we are to be his eyes and ears of enemy movement. As we ride our horses, I wondered the source of Jakan happiness.
This time, it is different, this must have something to do with Jakan and one of the five heroes of riven war, Lankensy. They pressed their upper arms perpendicularly against each other, they chuckled to each other, then separated to get to their duties. I chose to not ask as it isn't important but, doesn't stop my curiosity.
We have reached our deployment position, I look at Kyrem, he nods to us. Commence reconnaissance, Jakan and I separate from the cavalry archer battalion to scout in peace. It took us a while to actually find undead formations within the area, but, even Jakan let out a coughing sigh from the sight of the numbers we are seeing.
'Winter's roar... If there is even one more formation like that... The cavalry battalions have a tough time... Something I should have expected but, mostly considered unlikely...' Jakan states mildly alarmed by the number of undead in the rectangular formation.
'Fyregeld would need to take part very early... Which is most likely going to be disadvantageous later?' Ask for a confirmation of what I suspect Jakan is thinking.
'Yes... Fyregeld most certainly will be needed in the fight...' Jakan replies still mildly astounded how large the formation is. We move on to continue scouting, but, this is bad news, I guessing both of us are suspecting that this formation's purpose is to alarm the town that they are going to be attacked very soon.
Unfortunately for us, there is a second formation that is just as large as the first one more to the south of south west of the town, while this one is to the south west of it. 'Great, just, bloody fantastic... I will have some choice words for the Valerian scouts, these are probably twice or even thrice the number of undead compared to what they reported...' Jakan says upset about the situation.
'And, these two are part of the three we are supposed to lure into attacking the cavalry... The Valerians are most certainly going to have a bad day...' Reply quietly to try to ease Jakan's mood. It does work...
'Right, let's go look for the third... Hopefully it won't be as big as this and the previous...' Jakan states calmly, remembering that we aren't supposed to take part in the fight against these, but, reports are almost certainly going to be ugly.
Third formation, behind the first formation we scouted is still big but, probably by a third smaller, still a risky fight but, not unwinnable. Jakan told me that best way to beat this one with the forces nearby, would be, that cavalry archers would jog past it while firing arrows into the formation from the rear and front, as the formation is fairly tight and there aren't enough shields.
The undead casualties would be high, the cavalry archers would only stay as long as to bait the enemy to charge them, which leaves them open to be charged by the Valerian cavalry battalion, under the command of Tyrelia, one of the heroes of riven war. It's going to be a nasty melee but, one that would be the most effective on completely destroying this formation.
Follow up maneuvers would be that the cavalry archers, once they are being pursued, will regroup to attack the large south western formation, while once the cavalry battalion has routed or utterly destroyed this small formation will attack the rear of the southern undead formation, to goad them to pursue them.
Once the cavalry archer battalion has begun the fall back, the cavalry battalion will follow. From there, it is following the plan. The plan discussed yesterday still can be done but, it is going to be a lot more uglier in terms of results than expected. We scouted little bit longer to make sure there aren't other formations nearby.
There is fourth, which we suspect to be a reserve formation for the assault, it is about as big as the third. There is a mistake with it's location however, that is good news for the cavalry archer battalion. They are too far away to assist the large south western formation. Jakan sighed from mild relief. 'Well, at least some kind of good news... Although, once the pursuit is initiated, they most likely will join the battle.' Jakan says to me.
'I agree, thankfully we aren't supposed to give battle assistance in these fights... We would both be sore from the exhaustion later today, or worse, grievously wounded.' Reply to Jakan, he nodded in agreement. Jakan then motioned to me with his head that, this is enough, time to report to battalions. Nodding in agreement we head back.We arrive as Kyrem and Tyrelia are talking with the squadron commanders. 'What are your reports?' Kyrem hails us as we approach.
'Relatively far away from the best news, unfortunately but, there is some good too.' Jakan states calmly knowing that what we have seen, is going bring up mixed feelings. Jakan debriefs all on scene, on what we have discovered.
Kyrem displayed some worry but, when we told about the secondary reserve formation's positional mistake. He began to think about the situation more intensily. Tyrelia also looked worried, she and the battalion under her command, have a work cut out for them...
All squadron commanders deemed the plan still doable but, they all agreed on the fact that, this is going to be a seriously tough skirmish. Now, they need to be quick, Tyrelia gave Jakan a flag pole and a flag for the second part of this operation. 'Anything you would like to say before we begin?' One of the cavalry squadron commanders ask from us.
'For life, for the people, for Valerie.' Jakan states in hardened tone, we must begin and see our parts done in this operation.
'For life, for the people, for Valerie. I agree.' Tyrelia say with high spirit.
'Time to do our duty, all of you ready?' Kyrem asks from all of us.'Yes, sir.' Jakan and I reply without hesitation nor fear. We departed to head towards the north west of the castle. Behind us, pace of the hooves of more than hundred horses began to jog. We will not see them for a while now.
As soon as we arrived to the area we should scout out for any possible formations that might try to take positions north west or west of the castle where the supposed surprise pitched battle is to happen. We begin scouting, for a while, all the way to the past mid day, we do not find any undead formations, they must have combined formations for the assault on the town.
Unfortunately for them, it was done way too early... And now, there is a massive gap in the area control, gap which armed forces of Valerie are now beginning to exploit. We don't know whether the cavalry battalions have made good on their promises at the moment but, unfortunately for the infantry battalions the gap is going to be closed soon.
And there will be a battle that is a hard one for the one Lankensy is leading. These undead formations we are seeing, two of them, are about same size and number as the reserve formations to the south and south west of the town. We will need to improvise, one of those reserve size formations would have been bad enough. As we were heading back.
We see smoke, quite thick and seems to be from the direction where Fyregeld was to be signaled to ignite a forest, which undead infantry would use to try catch up with the formation moving cavalry. Unfortunately for us, we do not know how much damage this has caused and, we, Lankensy and his infantry battalion have a big endeavor ahead of us.
Jakan is still staring at the formations, probably staring at the distance between them. 'We can take them.' Jakan states calmly, which baffled me so much so that I let out an audible what. 'We can take them, We will be outnumbered three to one but, I have a plan.' Jakan adds and shakes his two handed sword slightly.
'I don't think it is enough.' Reply to Jakan in unsure tone as, such numerical advantage is enough for every attacking force to destroy a defending force.
'We will improvise, I will tell you once we reach sir Lanksensy.' Jakan states confidently.
'Okay...' I say slightly shakily, unsure whether it is warrior heart of Jakan making him act stupidly, or soldier's mind that whatever is the adversity, we handle it together... We head to where we agreed to meet Lanksensy and the infantry battalion he is leading in this battle.
Jakan prepared the flag and the flag pole, attaches the flag on the pole, then began to wave it, as the undead formations came into an open ground. Both of soon heard roar from the sky, we looked to the direction and see Fyregeld diving to harass the rear of the second formation of undead behind us.
We continue riding our steeds to the rally point. We reach it in good time, Lankensy was waiting for us with Seirialia. 'Bad news, we will receive undead formation that outnumbers us three to one.' Jakan states immediately before dismounting, I follow him.Lankensy at first seemed quite eager to fight but, such odds sobered his expression. 'We can take them, Fyregeld is already harrassing the formation behind the first one from the rear, so there will be chaos which buys us time.' Jakan says, Lankensy frowns while Seirialia looked grim.
'Tell me you have a plan.' Lankensy says, sounding surprisingly content and a smirk appeared on his lips.
'Yes sir. I will use the runes on my blade to create walls to hide the true number of our forces and act as a small choke point for the infantry to hold, you divide your battalion to three detachments. The center will hold the choke point with all they have, while southern and northern detachments make sure we won't get flanked around the stone walls.
When they begin their attempt to flank, the south and north detachments will begin fighting advance to box in our opponents. Seirialia, your arcane mastery is required, take a high ground and, rain hell on the enemy masses that engage the infantry detachments.' Jakan explains the plan.
Jakan draws his plan on to the dirt with his mace as he speaks. The terrain we are at, most certainly favors us... From that high ground, to the north east, is a perfect place to begin. Lankensy motions the infantry commanders to approach. He briefs them on the plan Jakan has proposed.
'Jakan, this is going to get ugly, but, with this plan... The glory will be quite gorgeous.' Lankensy states as the infantry commanders nod that they will follow this plan.
'This will be an ugly battle but, we will win it. Volarie, I need you to provide me more arcane, if the battle does get bad, with your assistance I will break the ground beneath our foes, so they have to fight from a disadvantageous position.' Jakan says without a hint of worry in his voice.
'Would it be better that I would provide you the assistance Jakan?' Seirialia asks alarmed by proposal from Jakan to me.
'No, we need your skill in magic to disrupt undead and to make sure that they have will have difficult time on concentrating their forces to put pressure on any of the three infantry detachments. Volarie already knows how to do it, and we have done this couple times before.' Jakan replies in calm tone.
I do remember, they were small in scale but, with right amount of concentration, we can do even bigger one. I am still worried though... Seirialia has the better mastery of arcane, I do not have as much skill or energy as her and Jakan's own capacity for arcane is rather limited. The plan is good though...
'Alright, I am ready.' Say finally without hesitation, although, I have some in my heart...
'I will hold the center, Volarie, move with the northern detachment to the position, Jakan you do the same, but with the south. Seirialia, I think you should get into position.' Lankensy says calmly.
'Yes sir.' Jakan and I say.
'Alright, I will trust your judgment.' Seirialia says to Jakan.
'Lady, I will get it done.' Jakan states with serious tone and ready to do everything in his power to win this battle. She nods to Jakan trusting him and I to do our part.
Jakan used the runes on his blade to create the walls, while I went into the position. We began to wait, waiting, the most nerve wrecking part of his plan... Soon, undead were sighted and they immediately rush to engage the choke point, slightly dispersing to begin also go around the stone walls. North infantry detachment began to jog to close the flanks, I go with them.
The plan is so far working, undead began engaging all three points without concentrating to break out through one. Now, we wait again, I listen to the battle raging before me, every now and then look around to see if we are getting flanked. Then I saw big chunks of ice raining into the center of the open left side box, infantry have formed. Second reserve force has now entered the battle.
They also charged right in, this is the moment where Jakan and I, head to the rear of the undead, and break the ground they stand in. As we had practiced, I place my hand on Jakan's left shoulder and begin channeling my arcane energy into him, just as he began to grasp the earth with his hands and began casting an earth rupture spell.
I allowed Jakan to take the lead and just follow him. Spell is complete, and Jakan made a two handed fist, then brought it down onto the dirt in front of him. Like water that got hit by massive weight on it's surface earth ruptured upwards at the center of the box, flinging countless amount of undead into the air.
Soil and stone rained upon the mass of undead, causing further losses of undead infantry. We gaze upon what we caused, both of us spent in terms of arcane. 'It is not enough, the battle still favors them...' Jakan says angrily and looks like he wants to charge in.
'That is a suicide.' Say to him in serious tone. Jakan calms down and thinks.
'Now, we just have to fight hard... Fight your way through to the northern detachment, while I fight to the south. Kills as many as you can cause as much as chaos as possible, when you reach allies, tell them to begin pushing forward with all their might. Because this is it, either they or us, break first.' Jakan says clearly frustrated that it has come to this but, no other options.
We collide our swords and wish fortune to each other, we separated and begin skirmishing. After fighting a while, I reach Valerian infantry northern detachment. 'Push! Push! It is either us or them!' Shout as loud as possible. Their commander heard me, a moment of consideration flashes in his expression, it soon hardens into seriousness.
'Fight, fight, fight with all your might!' He roars and joins the battle. Northern detachment slowly, orderly, but, surely, began taking ground from the undead. I join the commander, who would have distrusted me but, here, in this moment, we are not enemies.
Soon, to the last skeleton, walking dead and fallen's end. The undead were slain, soldiers began collapsing from exhaustion. I hear horses running towards us, turning to look, it is Tyrelia's cavalry battalion, then I look opposite of me, spot Jakan on his knees and relying on his sword, looks more like he is just trying to catch his breath and relax. To my left, I see Lankensy at the center detachment, he also looks quite exhausted
.'Hail hero of the riven war... It is done...' Say with stamina that I still have as Tyrelia approaches us on her steed.
'By the light... How many have you slain?' Tyrelia says as she looks at the ground before the resting soldiers of northern detachment. I think a while...
'Twenty three...' Say still exhausted and look around, Seirialia has reached Lankensy, they embrace each other. Ground quaked a little as Fyregeld landed, he is completely fine, but, his expression tells of bewilderment.
'Fyregeld, we will need to screen for more undead that might head towards here. They need rest not another battle.' Tyrelia states looking at all of the Valerian soldiers who have taken part in this battle.
'I agree wholeheartedly lady Tyrelia. I would like to hear what happened here to have caused a battle of this scale.' Fyregeld says, still quite baffled by the amount of undead that has been slain.
After resting almost to the beginning of dusk. We begin moving back into the castle from the northern entrance. I join Jakan's company who is now feeling a lot better, still exhausted but, at least enough rested that we begin walking our steeds back into the castle. Seeing it better to not ruin the current atmosphere of victorious but, exhausted Valerian soldiers.
I have the intention on breaking the silence between Jakan and I but, then I heard somebody approaching us on a horse and some jogging. We turn to look, and they are Tyrelia, Lankensy and Seirialia. As Lankensy opened his mouth to say something, ground quaked a little and we were joined by Fyregeld.
'What are the reports of commanders Gonzil, Salgi and Tynzio?' Lankensy asks from Tyrelia.
'Only three out of twenty have suffered wounds, by the looks of your battalion, I estimate yours had it worse than them combined.' Tyrelia says in praising tone.
'We ended up having to fight two reserve formations of undead... Thanks to Jakan's plan... It probably would have ended up a whole lot worse.' Lankensy states in humble tone.
'Negative sir...' Jakan sighs out, unwilling to receive praise, not out of that it offends him. 'Real heroes of this battle are the soldiers marching behind us.' Jakan adds mildly worried he might have offended.
'True but, you do deserve some praise draconian... Thanks to your quick thinking, that probably would have turned out to be a victory as bad as defeat.' Lankensy says, mildly amused by Jakan behavior and smiles warmly.
'I would have charged into the center of the undead, if Volarie wouldn't have calmed me down...' Jakan replies keeping composure but, wanting to avoid praise. Curse you Jakan... Don't shove into the spot of light in a cave...
'I only told him, what I believed was on his mind, is a suicide.' Say the truth of the matter.
'Could you both, just stop avoiding our gratitude?' Tyrelia asks teasing us, probably figured out, why we are behaving in this manner.
'With all respect, lady Tyrelia... We are just trying to avoid taking too much praise. We fear that the soldiers wouldn't take it idly.' Jakan replies steadily.
'While I do understand reasoning, you shouldn't downplay your part in this, I believe the commanders would also make it clear to their men, that this was achieved with effort from everybody.' Fyregeld reasons, Jakan just exhales in begrudging manner, probably because what Fyregeld said, is true.
Even I can not find a way to weasel a way out from receiving gratitude from Valerians... 'Alright then...' Jakan replies in slightly defeated tone, declaring his intention to cease avoiding receiving gratitude.
'You are correct lord Fyregeld.' State in slightly defeated tone. Our intention is to maintain as high as possible morale among the Valerian soldiers, we can handle the influence of dark arcane in the air without issues, it is the effect on the soldiers we are most concerned about.
'How bad did it look? Lady Seirialia.' Jakan asks, it makes sense why he asked that. He only had the battle level awareness, while Seirialia had better awareness of the battle situation from the high ground.
'It looked quite bad, after your earth rupture, the battle still was in the favor of the undead, from my position, I could only do so little when I had cast spells that I could.' Seirialia replies smiles warmly, Jaka scoffs in tone telling of his discomfort, knowing that he was correct in his battle assessment in that moment.
'Can you explain the chain of events?' Fyregeld asks from me and Jakan. Jakan looked at me, asking that should we be truthful, I look at him in a manner saying yes. Jakan closes his eyes slowly and rolls his eyes. He explains what transpired in more detail. Tyrelia and Fyregeld listen carefully.
I am more eager to hear their angle on what happened...

Multi Part story.
Fantasy.
Any feedback / commentary is welcomed.
Enjoy!
*****
“Go on Hal, it’s a simple spell – slithering serpent unlock the lock.” His professor prompted him in front of the class. Hal glanced at his classmates. Wizards and witches in the making. They were young teenagers. The academy was famous for its introductory courses. He took a deep breath, desperately attempting to ignore the murmurs and whispers in the room, that were most unpleasant to him.
‘He’s gonna blow it up’
‘no no he’ll melt it’
‘he’s going to summon a serpent.’
They were whispering among themselves.
He inhaled through his nose. “Slithering serpent of the lock to unlock.” He misspoke the basic spell.
“NO!” his professor shouted. The small box lock in his hands squirmed and softened. His magic failed, and the misphrase caused an undesired effect. The shackle of the lock pulled itself out of the hole and flicked its tongue. In his hands were now a metal lock’s body, and a metallic snake. Hal gasped, tossing the snake over his shoulder.
“I told you he’ll screw it up.” Shouted another teenager.
“Flamius, engulf!” Another student cast a simple enflaming spell, setting the metallic snake on fire. Hal sighed. Echoes of voices and screams slowly faded. He turned a small lock in his hands, examining it. Intricate patterns carved into the lock’s body were magical in nature. He sighed once more.
“Slithering serpent…” He whispered softly and then stashed the lock away in the inner pocket of his long coat.
After another short nap, he finally got up from the comfort of his resting spot. A grassy patch under a big tree with wide-spread branches, casting a comforting shadow over the entire patch. He placed his hand on the tree and bowed in respect.
“Thank you for the protection, o’old one.”
The tree shook gently, shedding a handful of leaves.
The path he followed was partly overgrown with half-withered grass. The valley in which he found himself seemed to be experiencing a drought. Most of the grass was dried and most weeds were struggling to show any colors other than yellow and brown. Hal was a versed traveler, for he had never managed to find a place he could call home. The longest he managed to stay at a place was 2 years, before an explosive accident resulted in his untimely departure.
“Meowdy traveler.” Smirked a merchant from the driver’s seat of a cart – one of many. A whole caravan was lined up behind, slowly coming to a halt. At a quick glance, Hal counted no less than 12 carts.
“A whole caravan huh? Where do you hail from?” The merchant raised his hand, nibbling on a weed’s stem. He had a sly smirk on his face, and his pupils were narrow and slit-like. Hal focused on the stranger’s eyes, but they were suddenly normal again.
“We’re a traveling group, usually transporters of goods, haulers as your kind calls us.” He replied in a snarky tone. “Returning from the Merila mines, carrying mostly silver ore.” The merchant continued. “Not much to offer, but feel free to peek around if you so desire?”
Hal tilted his head to the side. “Merila mines…There was a rumor of a ‘sage’ that lives there, in the mountains. Heard of him?”
The merchant’s lips curled up into a grin. “Nyess! Though we don’t trade for free, traveler.” Hal pondered.
“I have not much to offer… Basic magical services perhaps? Or, some herbs?”
The merchant seemingly sniffed the air. “That’d be purrfect… Let us settle, set a camp, if you assist I’ll give you a, discount.”
Hal saw no reason not to offer a helping hand to the merchants.
“How long have you been on the road for?” He inquired of a younger lad whom he was helping unload the tents and supplies from 1 of the carts.
“Ohhhh hecking if I know… We departed the Merila uhhh, two days ago? By foot it’ll take you another 4-5 I reckon, maybe even 7, that’s where you headin’ yes? Long journey still… We’r enroute to the port city Calinda to the west.”
The nightfall in a valley surrounded by a range of mountains always came suddenly. One moment it was still day, and then suddenly it was all engulfed by shadows. That evening he found himself enjoying a hearty fishy-stew that was freshly cooked by the merchants. They were a fascinating group that within a few hours went from a traveling caravan to a well set-up self-sustaining camp.
They even had a portable shower. When darkness came, they had traps with baits set up to catch critters for food.
“Sooo, murrster…” Began 1 of the eldest-looking of the merchants.
“Hal, just Hal… uhm…. None of the wizards bear a last name. He explained, curious as to how the merchants seemingly didn’t know that common fact.
“Ahh I see I see, my apologies. A wizard is what we seeked in fact!”
Hal nodded, and gulped anxiously. “Y…yeah?? what for…??
“Nyah, it’s no biggie…”
A rustling behind a tent caught Hal’s attention. His head snapped in the direction of the noise. It was a strange noise, a mixture of cracking bones, squishy flesh, and a tear of the fabric of reality. He knew that last sound especially well. His breathing got heavier. His eyes widened from fright.
He was in a classroom. Learning simple levitation spells. It would mostly serve as a means of making objects float and controlling them.
“World hear me and obey my will, leave it free of your will.” A simple cast, with channeling one’s mana underneath the object to cancel out the gravity effect on the object, and then simple control of it through use of the channeled mana to make the object move.
Hal’s turn. He stepped up. His gaze fixated on the small cannon-ball replica that sat on the table.
“Occasionally we, the mages of the world, find ourselves at the front lines, serving our country. Though real ones are much heavier, this one is hollowed out. Try making it float.” The professor of practical magic instructed.
Hal sighed with his hand extended. “Hear me and obey my will, leave the world free of your will.”
The instructor blinked out of confusion.
Although the cast was mostly similar, the effect was anything but ordinary. The cannonball disappeared, swallowed into a rift that tore through the reality behind it. Through the rift a clawed hand emerged, grasping onto the edge of it, and then another, trying to pry it open. Claws as sharp as needles extended from its furry hands. The crackling of electrical discharge and an ear-piercing tear akin to ripping fabric, if the fabric was electrified and shooting off like a tesla coil, filled the room, muffling out the screams and shouts of the other students, along with their mocking and teasing.
“Hal!?” called out the merchant from before. Hal gasped, regaining his focus.
“Ahhh…hah…?” He snapped his attention back at the merchant, his fright-struck looks made the man chuckle.
“Everything alright, friend?”
Hal nodded, slowly. “Ah… yes… I just, something reminded me of an unpleasant memory.” His body shivered slightly; his gaze returned to the tent where he had heard the tearing sound. From behind it emerged a young woman. She furrowed her eyebrows, then smiled and bobbed her head at him.
“Ahh, Leri, she was probably cutting some pelts; she’s a crafter.” The old man commented after following Hal’s gaze. “So about what we’d ask of you, in regards to the magical services you offered.” The old man continued. “Simply put, we need your mana, for the ahmm… warding seals.”
Hal blinked. “Oh… n..no spells?” The old man glanced at him suspiciously.
“Nyat at all.”
Hal let out a relaxed sigh. “Oh… yes! Okay, that’s a yes, no problems.” He smiled nervously, his anxiety slowly fading away with the realization that he wouldn’t be messing it up with his unexplainably dangerous magic. “S…sure yes…”
The old man chortled at the suddenly nervous wizard. “Scared of your own magic? That’s good no? If a wizard is not afraid, the wizard is not mighty enough.”
Hal explained his strangely uncontrollable magic to the old merchant in a lengthy evening tale, accompanied by some ale, hot stew, and crackling of the campfire.
The morning after, another member of the merchants brought to him an assortment of necklaces, bracelets, and wooden tablets, that he was requested to refill with mana. He paid little attention to the intent of these magical items, simply upholding his part of the bargain. Hearty meals, some travel supplies, food rations for his trip, and a couple of spare water-skins to last him through the drought-plague valley until he reached the exit of it, and a discount on his trade of herbs for goods that he decided to pick up, for some simple mana-refilling. A deal he would've been a fool to turn down.
His supplies lasted him the rest of the trip through the valley. Though he wasn’t exiting it entirely. The mines he was heading for were on the outskirts of the valley, but at least there was a river running through this part, so the supplies and herbs were easier to come by. He reached the outskirts of the village where the miners lived, and found himself impressed by the quality of life in this little, remote village. The night at the village was quite peaceful, and the lock to seal his magic still proved to be effective. His stay passed without any incidents and at the break of dawn he began his ascent up the trail leading to the snowy peaks. With no concrete map in hands, only rumors and details he obtained through word of mouth, he had no choice but to trust his intuition in the journey ahead. The first day was pretty easy. The slope wasn’t too steep. The night after, however, proved to be more challenging than he had bargained for. While the valley before was at most filled with critters and an occasional coyote, the lush forests leading up the mountain were a lot livelier.
Hal was ill-prepared for the dangers that lurked in these forests, and that is something he realized when he was startled awake from his peaceful slumber by a growl - mere meters from his tent. His heart clenched and his stomach turned into a knot. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead while his body instinctively reached for the lock with magical symbols engraved on it. He clenched the lock in his fist. His mind raced in an endless debate between unlocking it, releasing his barely controllable magic, and risking his life. Perhaps the creature would pass by on its own. Perhaps it’s already closing in to pounce. A bear? Or another predator? He wasn’t sure. Though Hal was used to traveling and camping around, he never quite starved so far from civilization or established routes. He closed his eyes, clenching the lock in his hand.
“There are several ways to handle yourself when faced with an attack from an inhuman. Creatures, animals, monsters, etcetera, are easier to control, but one must carefully and precisely assess the being they’re up against before deciding on the best approach to handle it. For instance, a hungry beast in the wild would be easiest to charm, and then feed, but a demonic creature is likely best to be banished.” The professor explained to the class in a lecture.
“So as a pop-quiz, today we’ll have you face your fears.” The professor exclaimed with an excited smile. Her gaze darted to Hal. “Ahem… Hal, darling… considering your erhm… recent accidents, perhaps, would you prefer to sit this one out?”
Hal clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, giving a weak and sad nod to the professor. And so, he watched his classmates one by one cast various spells at various creatures as the phantomic assumed shapes of creatures that his classmates feared. He heard a rustle, and then a tear, as the claws of a mountain lion tore through the thin fabric of his camp.
A soft click of metal was barely audible, and then he reopened his eyes. His pupils emitted a golden glow.
“BEGONE” He shouted, his voice filled with fright and resolve, as the memory ended on a simple vision of his classmate banishing an imp-like creature with a spell. A thunderclap echoed through the night forest. All the forest dwellers, from owls to critters, turned to silence. Hal swallowed audibly, blinking in disbelief. Harsh coldness pinched his cheeks. His feet sunk into a soft but cold whiteness. His gaze wandered the moonlit snowy peak atop of which he found himself now. His body shivered from the sudden cold.
“No…” He gasped. Disbelief was quickly replaced by concern as he realized that he was suddenly exposed to the freezing temperatures, realizing that instead of banishing the predator that leaped at him, his magic transported him to an unknown location. His gaze wandered the frosted landscape in search of shelter. The night was cold and young, and he wouldn’t last long in his thin clothes which he was sleeping in moments prior. No camp. No supplies. Nought that could help him now. Panic began to settle in, but before it had a chance to root itself in his mind and cloud his judgment, a soft, gentle voice whispered from behind in a playful tone.
“My. I’ve never seen a meal present itself to me so… boldly before.”
Hal turned on his heel in an instant and faced the source of the gentle voice. His eyes fixated on a pair of piercing ruby-eyes that shone in the darkness like beacons of hope, or despair, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Her hair was dark as the night itself, highlighted in blood-red. Illuminated by the moon’s light, her pale skin almost resembled the snow that surrounded them. His jaw dropped, and he was left speechless by the beautiful woman before him, that stood barefoot in snow, seemingly oblivious to the harsh coldness. Her thin blouse and hair fluttered in the wind. He stared at her, and the only sound that he managed to produce was
‘ah…’
She grinned. Her pearly-white teeth shone in the moonlight. Her fangs glistened, as did her eyes.
“My, left you speechless did I?” She traced his shivering neck with her nail, all the way up to his chin. “Mmhh… scared humans aren’t yummy…” She pouted. “Stop trembling so much, I can hear your teeth clacking.”
He nodded, still trembling, less so from fear and more so from slowly freezing to death.
“C….c…co…cold…” He managed to utter at last.
She blinked a few times. “Oh, right… I forgot that your kind feels cold…” She grasped him by the throat. “Come with me then!” And chanted something in the ancient tongue that Hal had only briefly studied at the academy, and suddenly he was dizzy.
The world all around spun and spiraled out of existence, just to spiral back in a moment later. His knees buckled, and the girl had no desire to hold him up. She loosened her grasp and Hal fell to the wooden floor. It took a few long moments before the dizziness passed, and he managed to bring himself up from the ground. Warmth tickled his cold cheeks, and a comforting crackle of the fire soothed his mind.
“Wh…where am I…” He struggled, pulling himself up to a sitting position.
“Obviously, my place… Though I don’t usually bring my happy-meals home… But you seemed so cold… and, well, frozen meals aren’t happy…” She glanced over her shoulder, pouting like a little child. Her cheeks puffed up and her eyes looked sad, so sad in fact that Hal suddenly felt bad for being a bad meal, and that’s a strange feeling to have.
“I… I’m sorry…”
“You had better be!” She turned her head swiftly like a child who was denied a treat. “Tell me, meal… are you dumb?”
Hal shrugged. “No, I’m uhh…” he proceeded to explain the events of how he ended up basically a layer from being butt-naked up in the frosty peaks of the mountains, freezing to death. His host had a hearty laugh over it for what seemed to have lasted several minutes.
“You… really are something…. but, you tell good stories. Go on go on. Entertain me.”
Hal glanced around. “May I … have some water?” She suddenly disappeared, appearing right behind him. Her nails dug into the soft skin of his neck, her warm breath tickled his ear.
“I sssaid… actually, would be rude of me to deny you. Wait a minute.” She suddenly released him and ran out barefooted into the snow. Coming back with a cauldron full of snow, tossing it over the campfire to melt it and boil the water.
“Herbal tea?”
Confused, Hal merely nodded, and while waiting for the water to boil, he proceeded with his tale.
“Ah, you are there, here.” Replied his hostess.
“Wha…. where?” Hal asked out of confusion, watching her pour him a cup of steaming water and toss some herbs into it.
“There-there, where you desired. Your magic sent you straight there, well, here, to me.” She grinned excitedly. Her fangs caught the flickering light of the fire and glistened ever so invitingly. Her piercing ruby eyes made Hal weak in the legs. He snapped back to reality, realizing what she had just said.
“HUH???”
She smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “I am the one the village folks refer to as the ‘sage’.” She explained. “Hardly a sage… I hunt tourists andddd, i’m just old so I’ve seen a lot.” She shrugged playfully. “And you’re a tourist by the way.” A warm and inviting smile spread across her lips. Hal somehow felt compelled by his new title.
“Suppose I am. But uhm… about my issue…?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re suchhhh a party pooper. Sheesh.. yes right… Wizard with out-of-control wizardry. Happens occasionally, likeeee… once a generation I reckon.” She proceeded to ponder.
“H…how old are you exactly?” Hal inquired curiously after her commentary.
“Rude to ask a girl her age, foolish meal… I ought to teach you manners.” She suddenly whispered into his ear, standing menacingly behind him.
He shuddered. “S…sorry… carry on.”
She tip-toed around him playfully but rhythmically, as if dancing to a song that only she could hear. He watched her curiously, his gaze drawn to her fluid movements. He was curious about what she was thinking about, what song she was playing in her mind, but before he could build up the courage to ask, she abruptly stopped and stared out the window.
“Tsk… Right, so… Magic control.”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“There are… three, no, four ways to address your issue.” She began, walking up to the window and leaning against the windowsill. “First option, I could turn you into a bloodsucker like myself. Then within a few hundred years you’ll eventually learn to control it. Immortality grants you plenty of time to practice.”
He nodded, “Ahm… a fair point I guess, but, w…what other options are there?”
She pondered. “Could have you go to the Grand Library they uhm, specialize in weird-zardy.”
Hal furrowed his eyebrows. “Weird..?”
She nodded “Oh yes, weirdos all around, and very yummy… But I hate feasting on their kind. They’re full of mana but so obnoxiously annoying…. Ahem, anyways - alternatively… we could curse you to weaken your magic potential. Your magic talent far surpasses what your knowledge of it permits you to do. You have the potential to break the worlds and realms, or to fix them.” She grinned playfully. “How fun! Yummy fun.”
He carefully considered what she said. “Are there… more options?”
She turned around and shrugged. “Sureee… yes… expect me to give you a whole book of options why don’t you? Didn’t even feed me and so needy… Sheesh…. Yes there is, boooring though! I could just create a partial seal that allows you to focus your potential and mana better. Simple, ancient, and effective. They did that a few thousand years ago when we were far too mighty for this world.”
“We…?” He asked cautiously but she responded with a cough and then suddenly she stood before him. Her index finger was under his chin. Her gaze full of hunger.
“And now you choose, and thennnnn…. You feed me.” She smiled excitedly. “Go on magic man, tell me your preference…”
He found his thoughts getting lost in her ruby colored eyes once more.
“Could I… Ask you to…. Teach me instead?” He asked. His gaze full of hope.
She gazed into his pleading puppy eyes and then pouted. “NOT FAIR! Stop giving me the cute gaze…” She continued to hold his chin in her grasp, then released him and turned on her heel.
“FINE! Under three conditions. One: You allow me to feed on you on a whim. Two: You guide tourists to me… don’t worry, I never kill, just a few nibbles, they won’t even remember it. And three: you will obey me for a hundred years.” Her smirk turned evil, menacing even.
Hal swallowed audibly, but her allure was irresistible to him. He nodded in response, without taking a moment to reconsider his decision.
“I… accept.”
In an instant, his world was swallowed by darkness. A sharp pain jolted through his body as he felt two fangs pierce the skin of his neck. He gritted his teeth trying to resist the pain and urge to scream, as darkness consumed him, and numbness took over. And with that, Hal became an apprentice of the ‘sage’.

“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.

“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.

\** Westbridge, south **\**
A small patrol of Kestral Guardsmen had taken a break, relaxing as they fetched stuff from their canteens. they had gone off route and were hidden now amongst the trees and crevices.
"Do you think it's safe out here?" the corporal asked.
"Sure." the trooper closest replied. "Tau have pulled away recently. We have nothing to worry about."
"Okay." she replied. "I just think we should keep moving. this isn't where we're supposed to be."
He groaned. "Emperor, this place is safe. What's the worst that can-"
His legs were pulled out from under him.
He fell forward.
Face hitting the ground
Figures emerged from around, leaping out of the snow, having been underneath the whole time. they rammed knives into him and cut him apart.
She swore, reaching to ready her lasgun she had put down for a moment.
One of the figures appeared form her side.
It was a Krieger. One from the Central Front.
...Before long she and the patrol was dead.
The Krieger kill team disposed of the bodies and moved over a few large rocky outcroppings to get a binocular view of Westbridge.
Their plan was perfect. hardened grenadiers, the absolute best that Thraille had to offer. They had been dispatched by him to hunt Quatre. tip-off had lead them here.
Reports had come in that Thraille had since been arrested but they knew it was nonsense. Enemy propaganda.
They were the best. Absolute loyalty to the order Thraille had given them.
Sneaking in was going to be the easy part. They would use the layout of the patrols and guard positions that their contact B'ouve had given them...
.......................................................................................................................................
\** Within Westrbridge **\**
Quatre finished messing with her disguise and nodded to Moral.
"We're good to go." She said. "Is there an ETA on your crafts arrival?"
........................................................................................................................................
\** Kestral Ship **\**
Wolcott almost fell over forwards, all of a sudden and without warning.
Redlina hesitated to attack, expecting some trick.
But instead he coughed, vomiting blood and black gore onto the floor below him.
The Incubi moved quickly, putting themselves between her and him, but he raised his hand, stopping them taking further action.
"Feth!" he growled. "Not again..."
The kept their eyes locked onto her. The distant stillborn had their guns locked to the Psyker. The closer ones slowly drew Crystaline blades, reckoning their capability to cross the gap and kill the stormtroopers was high.
Wolcott slowly regained himself as he stepped backwards. They could see it now, it wasn't an i jury but something seriously wrong with him.
Black goo dripped form his mouth, he eye twitching.
To Pirax, his corrupted warp presence was vibrating heavily, this was something unsual.
But he quickly recovered.
"I'll make the choice simple." he raised his sword and held it at Captain St.Laurents neck again. "Your life, or his."
Redlina went to speak. but he interrupted her.
"Not you- Him!" he pointed at Pirax. "Well then agent? the Astartes or the Abhuman. which matters more to you? Pick! One!"
Pirax went to do something but he made it evident how close the blade was to the marines neck. "OI! Make no mistake! I can cut it faster than you can conjure up anything-don't even try!"
He looked down at the marine. the playfulness had given way to perversion. His soul feeding off whatever anyone was feeling right now. "Last words?"

Hi everyone, For context I’m currently 32 (33 in a few weeks) and have just completed my egg retrieval Friday 26th April. I live in Australia. My amh was 17 when it was checked in October 2023. I tested negative for covid two days before my retrieval and also at 6:30am on the morning of my retrieval. Retrieval was completed between 8-8:30am. Two days later on the 28th April I am positive for covid with symptoms including sore throat initially, runny nose, sneezing, coughing but no fever. I’m wondering if this could have affected my outcome.
Three months before retrieval I was taking: coq10, myo inositol, vitamin d, fish oil, zinc, folic acid and occasionally vitamin c. I had about 3 acupuncture sessions in the month leading up to my procedure.
My protocol was: Day 1 - 3: Gonal F 250iu
Day 4 - 8: Gonal F 250iu, Cetrotide
Day 9: Gonal F 250iu, cetrotide, decapeptyl (trigger)
Day 11: Retrieval - 8 mature eggs
On day 9 I had my ultrasound with 11 follicles > 10 mm, measuring between 12-19mm. At the retrieval, the surgeon said he was surprised by my result and was expecting more like 20 eggs given my amh levels were high. During my prep, the nurse also said he expected at least 10-15. At first I was worried that I didn’t stim long enough and my trigger was administered too early.
Now that I think back to the morning of my retrieval, I remembered having a very slight sore throat. It was very cold and I did also have a restless night, I ended up waking up at 4am and just put it down to stress. I often get sick after surviving a stressful time and I put it down to my body possibly running off adrenaline and falling sick once the adrenaline has worn off.
I’m worried that the egg quality may have been affected or it may have impacted the success of my retrieval in some way. Not sure if there is any way to test this? I’ve been doing some reading but I may have my own cognitive biases and I lack the medical/scientitic knowledge to necessarily make sense of the data. I’ve contacted my doctor and nurses and am awaiting their response, but in the meantime did anyone have a similar experience? Feeling quite deflated and unsure about whether I should attempt a second cycle. I have heard that you need to pay for two sets of egg storage if you complete two rounds with the same provider. I’m not sure if I need to discard the eggs that I’ve just frozen.
Thanks for reading helping me vent and quell my anxiety a bit. I’m interested to hear from anyone who has had any similar experiences or knowledge on this.

I am asking this question today and out of concern for myself, but for my young daughter. I was sick with the flu and vomited in our shower due to the fact that I was feeling so ill I wasn’t able to do a full sanitation of the shower and approximately within 24 to 36 hours of the time of that occurrence my daughter used that shower. After she used it, I went in to check it, and I realize there were still some vomit particles on the shampoo bottles that my daughter would have touched.
I am freaking out because within two days of taking that shower, she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t have the flu but she did have with seem to be like a cough, congestion and headache. Then yesterday she told me that it burned when she Peed and showed me what look to be a little redden raised line on her vagina. She also is complaining that it's itchy. I just can't imagine that this would happen to her this way I have faith in God and hope that he would not allow a child of his to be infected with this horrible virus in such a very odd, non-deserving innocent way.
I plan to take her into the doctor as soon as I can. I am just wondering theoretically, what would the risk of her to catch herpes from particles of vomit on soap bottles that she may have touched, and then inadvertently touched any part of her mucous membranes while she was showering. I am just sick about all this.
The main question is really just how long can the herpes virus live outside the body in vomit is a shower environment??

In my last story, a space mermaid warned against the dangers of smoking. The Darlings did not heed that warning, so now Space Whale Aesops shall ensue.
____________________________________________________
“The Darling Twins? Honestly, haven’t we all had enough of them by now?” Seneca ruminated as he tried to placate what was now the de facto triumvirate of the Ophion Occult Order.
Once again, he had been summoned to Adderwood Manor to account for his lapses in judgement, but rather than being on full public display in the Grand Hall, he instead found himself in a relatively small parlour. Across from the coffee table in front of him sat Ivy Noir, with her sister Envy to her right and her husband Erich to her left. Standing just to the side of them was the trenchcoat and fedora-wearing automaton who called himself The Mandrake. The one-eyed dream-catcher carved into his iridescent face rendered his emotions unreadable, but the spellwork pistols holstered in his belt made it clear that he was prepared to defend his employers against anything.
“I mean, this feud between them and Emrys is laughable,” Seneca went on. “They’re no threat to him now that he’s free of his chains, surely? Before there may have been a tactical element to his obsession with them, but now it’s just plain petty. Petra’s just out for revenge, and don’t get me started on the absurdity of that eldritch realtor wanting to flip their playroom. Does he think he can just relabel their torture chambers as BDSM dungeons and pass the Black Bile infestation off as some mould?”
“Seneca, I promised Emrys the Darlings, and the Covenant that we all signed binds us to fulfill that promise,” Ivy reminded him patiently, dropping a cube of sugar into her ouroboros-themed antique teacup. “You knew the Darlings better than any of us. You inducted them into the Order, you used them as assassins and bodyguards, and you let them withdraw every penny they had in your bank when they were fugitives!”
“Well, first of all, Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain is a financial institution, not a bank,” Seneca said flippantly. “Secondly, they had a numbered account and they didn’t show up in person, so the teller didn’t have the slightest idea of who they were dealing with.”
“You still could have frozen the account before they had that opportunity,” Erich stated.
Seneca made a display of languidly stirring some cream into his tea and taking a slow sip before responding.
“I’m very busy,” he claimed without an ounce of sincerity.
“You just didn’t want to get on the Darlings’ bad side,” Ivy said.
“I wasn’t aware they had a good side,” Seneca shrugged.
“There must be a paper trail we can follow,” Envy insisted. “Did the Darlings keep their assets anywhere else besides your bank?”
“Financial institution, and yes, I’m sure they have a proverbial Swiss bank account, but I haven’t the slightest notion of where to find it,” Seneca claimed. “It has come up in conversation that James invested about twenty percent of his income with me, twenty percent elsewhere, and shoved another twenty percent under their mattress. Mary enjoys being shagged on top of money, apparently. Their services commanded quite a high price on the underworld market, and sixty-plus years of compound interest have made them incredibly wealthy. They can afford to lie low for a long while.”
“Even if they can go without a paycheck indefinitely, they can’t go without killing,” Erich countered. “They need to hunt, and their egos mean they aren’t just going to cower from Emrys inside their playroom. They’re going to be out looking for victims and plotting against us, and you know what spots they’re likely to hit.”
“You’re wasting your time. James has had decades to scout out hunting grounds, and I’m sure he prepared for the possibility – no, inevitability – that he and his sister would become our enemies. He’s not going to risk showing up within a hundred miles of any of our Chapterhouses if he doesn’t need to,” Seneca said dismissively.
Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when The Mandrake took a step forward for the first time since the meeting began. He reached into his pocket and tossed a red and white pack of cigarettes with a shiny silhouette of a stag onto the coffee table.
“What is this?” Erich asked.
“Satin Stag cigarettes,” The Mandrake said flatly before shifting his gaze to Seneca. “That’s the Darlings’ brand, isn’t it, Mr. Chamberlain?”
“Um, yes. I believe I’ve seen them smoke those once or twice. What of it?” Seneca asked, failing to hide the nervousness creeping into his voice.
“These are artisanal cigarettes, and Harrowick County’s the only place you can buy them,” The Mandrake said. “That means that the Darlings, either directly or indirectly, are going to have to make the occasional sojourn back home, and the limited supply of these hand-rolled coffin nails means they can’t stock up too far in advance either. You know Harrowick County better than any of us. You know who makes these, you know who sells them. That’s how we track down the Darlings.”
“That’s preposterous. Do you really think they’d risk coming to Harrowick County rather than just switch brands?” Seneca scoffed.
“The Very Important Person at Pascal’s told me that Mary said they’ve been smoking these since they were kids, so they’re clearly pretty attached to them,” The Mandrake replied. “And somehow, I don’t think they’re the type to ever give up a bad habit.”
***
“Smoke & Mirrors ~ Fine Tobacco Products. Silvano Santoro, Proprietor. Est. 1949,” Envy read aloud as she, Seneca and The Mandrake stood outside the small, heavily fortified brick building.
Cast iron bars crisscrossed the windows and front door, which looked like it stood a decent chance of withstanding a police swat team. Security was obviously the shop’s proprietor’s key concern, as the ugly brown and yellow awning was tattered and faded, and the paint on the sign was so chipped it was barely even legible.
“How exactly does an unnoticeable and unattractive hole in the wall like this stay in business?” Envy asked.
“Repeat customers,” Seneca replied as he took a confident step towards the door. “Silvano knows me, and he doesn’t normally have a problem with me bringing guests along, but I expect both of you to be on your best behaviour!”
Envy gave him a reassuring nod, but The Mandrake continued to stoically stare at nothing with his hands in his pockets. Rolling his eyes, Seneca pressed a bulky plastic button on the antiquated door buzzer.
“Yeah, who is it?” a harsh and smoke-damaged voice demanded.
“It’s Seneca, Silvano. A pleasure to make your acquaintance again as well!” Seneca answered. “Just looking to pick up a few cases of cigars for a party, if you’ve got anything decent in stock, of course.”
“Who’s that you got with you?” Silvano asked suspiciously.
“Envy Noir, sir. I’m here on behalf of my sister Ivy, investigating a matter of considerable importance to the Ophion Occult Order,” Envy promptly introduced herself, much to Seneca’s chagrin. “The gentleman beside me is my bodyguard. Would you be so kind as to let us in?”
“Ah… of course. Just a moment, please,” Silvano replied.
“What’s he need a moment to buzz open a door for?” The Mandrake demanded, his stance immediately switching to full readiness.
“Making the place presentable for customers, I assume,” Seneca explained in exasperation.
“You mean he’s hiding evidence, or he’s running!” The Mandrake shouted.
“He’s a nonagenarian heavy smoker. He couldn’t run if his life depended on it,” Seneca insisted.
“I’ll see about that,” The Mandrake muttered.
Shoving Seneca out of the way, he kicked the door in with barely any effort. Storming into the shop, he saw a slender older man with thick white hair and rimmed glasses seated behind the front counter. His saggy, spotted skin was a living PSA against the products he peddled, and in his tobacco-stained hand, he held the receiver of an ornate rotary phone.
Staring at The Mandrake in cold fury, he calmly set the receiver back down in its cradle.
“Who were you talking to?” The Mandrake demanded.
“A client,” Silvano barked back with a shake of his head, picking up a burning cigarette from a nearby ashtray.
“Silvano, I am profusely sorry for this abject and uncouth behaviour! This being is no friend of mine, I can assure you,” Seneca asserted as he and Envy made their way inside.
“The feeling’s mutual, Chamberlain,” The Mandrake remarked. “Mr. Santoro, I apologize for the damage to the premises, but as Miss Noir has said, we’re here on urgent business.”
“Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been given to understand the Darling Twins are regular customers of yours,” Envy explained, before the smoke-saturated room sent her into a coughing spell. She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a black N95 mask she had left over from the Pandemic.
“I’ve got plenty of regular customers,” Silvan replied defensively. “Customers who pay good money for that smoke you’re so offended by, young lady.”
“These ones have been coming here for over half a century and never aged a day,” The Mandrake said.
“That honestly doesn’t narrow it down that much,” Silvano chuckled, tapping his cigarette on his ashtray. “But yeah, I know the Darlings. What of it?”
“When was the last time they were here?” The Mandrake demanded.
“What’s it to you?” Silvano asked.
“They’re fugitives of the Order now and we want them brought in,” Envy replied, having donned her mask and mostly recovered from the smoke. “Mary Darling held a knife to my throat once in front of my sister, and later threatened to eat me alive in front of her and feed me to her pigs.”
“They were going to put me in their daughter’s doll collection,” The Mandrake muttered.
“And I have nothing but nice things to say about the Darlings, so I’m honestly not quite sure how I got dragged into this,” Seneca said. “That aside, it really would be of great help to us if you could share any information about them that you might have.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. They come in, they buy their smokes, they leave, just like most of my customers,” Silvano told them.
“But now they’re trying to lay low, so I’m guessing they’ve made some sort of arrangement with you to get their Satin Stag cigarettes without having to risk coming here in person,” The Mandrake said. “Maybe they set you up with one of their spare Retrovisions? Emrys said they had a few of those lying around, and they can use them as direct portals to their playroom.”
“Like they’d waste a fancy piece of technomancy like that on an old geezer like me. I haven’t seen them in months. Last year sometime, I think,” Silvano claimed.
The Mandrake casually strolled up to the front counter, rapping his fingers on the cheap glass display case.
“Real nice place you got here, Mr. Santoro. I mean, not really, but I’m sure you get the implication,” he said softly. “Ironic as it may be, a smoke shop isn’t exempt from municipal bylaws about smoking in public buildings and workspaces. You may not have had much trouble with local law enforcement before, but one phone call from my employers will change that real quick.”
“You think I’ve never been threatened before, punk?” Silvano asked, rising from his chair and staring him down.
“Boys, please, there’s no need for this,” Envy interjected. “Mr. Santoro, our Order has considerably more resources at its disposal than the Darlings, and we can certainly offer you a far greater reward for their capture than whatever they’re paying you for some cigarettes. You could retire; close this place down and get as far away as you like. How does that sound?”
“I’m not looking to retire, Miss. This business is all I’ve got, and it wouldn’t be good business to go around ratting out my best customers, now would it?” Silvano asked.
“It would be worse business to sacrifice everything you have to protect two customers,” The Mandrake threatened, his hands clamping down on the display cases so hard they began to creak. “Talk.”
Acknowledging him only with a furtive glance, Silvano took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled.
But this time, the smoke poured out from his mouth and nostrils without limit.
“What the hell?” The Mandrake cursed as he backed away.
Silvano pushed a button beneath the counter, putting his shop into lockdown with security shutters clamping down over every entrance point. As the smoke exuded from his body, it went limp and collapsed into a dried-out husk as the smoke coalesced into an animate form of its own, circling above them around the shop’s yellowed and textured ceiling.
“Damnit. Another egregore,” Envy muttered. “That explains his loyalties. The Darlings couldn’t eat him, but Emrys could.”
“So you’re saying we can’t negotiate it with it?” The Mandrake asked.
“Or fight it,” Envy clarified.
“In that case, it appears we’ve exhausted all our options. Time for a tactical retreat,” Seneca declared as he dashed for the now barricaded exit.
Whatever he was planning to do to get through it, the cloud of smoke cut him off before he got the chance. Rushing in through his nose and mouth, it immediately began suffocating him, sending him spasming to the ground as he choked for air.
The cloud assaulted Envy as well, but was unable to penetrate her mask.
“Godamnit, get away!” she shouted as she swatted it away from her burning eyes.
“Envy, get behind me now!” The Mandrake ordered as he drew out his pistols. “Sorry, Santoro, but you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if you want to intimidate us!”
Seneca responded by gasping angrily and bashing his hand against the carpet.
“… A lot worse,” The Mandrake reiterated. “I may not be able to shoot you, but I will blow this health hazard you love so much to hell if you don’t tell me where I can find the Darlings!”
“There’ll be no need for that, Mr. Mandrake,” the voice of James Darling crackled in from some unseen speaker. A door off to the side slowly creaked open, revealing a Retrovision flickering with black and white static. The Mandrake wasted no time in shooting at it, but the bullets passed through the glass without causing any damage at all.
A hologram of James Darling manifested in the center of the room, a burning Satin Stag cigarette clutched neatly in his fingers. He saw Seneca suffocating on the floor, then turned his predatory and calculating gaze towards The Mandrake.
“Put the guns on the floor, and I’ll call Silvano off,” he offered.
The Mandrake didn’t seem to be the least bit tempted by this offer, but Envy tugged at his trenchcoat and gave him a commanding nudge. Reluctantly, The Mandrake tossed the guns to the carpet and placed his hands behind his head.
With only a single commanding wag of his index finger, the smoke cloud withdrew from Seneca’s lungs and collected itself above James like a thundercloud.
“No sense in killing you, Seneca. That would practically be doing Emrys a favour,” James said. “But Envy, what’s a pretty girl like you doing wearing a mask?”
“You’d better not let your sister hear you calling me that,” Envy taunted.
“Kind of you to worry, but it’s always the object of my flirtations who bear the brunt of my sister’s wrath,” James reminded her smugly. “Top-notch detective work tracking me down, Mr. Mandrake. Why don’t you walk in through the Retrovision and arrest me?”
“You knew we’d show up here looking for you. You were waiting for us,” The Mandrake growled.
“Again, brilliant detective work. You’ve truly earned that fedora,” James mocked him. “Yes, I knew you’d come here looking for us, so I’ve arranged for Mr. Santoro to set up shop inside our playroom. He was only hanging around here to set a trap for you. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. None of you, not even you, Mr. Mandrake, are going to be able to break out of this building. You can sit there and starve for all I care, or Miss Noir and The Mandrake could take their chances with us on the other side of the Retrovision. Sara Darling really would like to put you in her doll collection, Mr. Mandrake, and I can’t wait to tell Mary Darling exactly how pretty I think you are, Envy. If the two of you come across, I’ll let Seneca go and he can inform Erich and Ivy of your predicament. If they’d like to negotiate for your release, I… may be willing to consider it.”
“You’re a coward! If you’re going to threaten me, step across that screen and do it to my face!” the Mandrake ordered.
He took his hands off his head and took a step towards him, only for the acrid form of Silvano to interject itself between them. James took a casual drag from his cigarette, refusing even to flinch.
Envy took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the pair of spellwork pistols off of the floor, firing two rounds of consecrated lead into the limp body of Silvano. While the body didn’t react at all, the smoke cloud shook and screeched like a wounded animal, losing some of its integrity and dissipating across the room.
“That body’s not just a husk! Silvano’s bound to it!” Envy declared. “James, if you don’t let us go in the next thirty seconds I’ll have The Mandrake tear that body limb from limb and you’ll have to find some other cursed thoughtform to roll your cigarettes for you.”
The Mandrake looked back towards James who now, much to his satisfaction, had flinched.
“Thirty. Twenty-Nine. Twenty-Eight,” he began to count down as he theatrically cracked his knuckles.
Before James could come to a decision, a few wisps of smoke snaked their way back into Silvano’s body. They were enough to animate it like a marionette, its limbs moving jerkily as it input the code to retract the security shutters over the doors and windows.
“There, happy?” James asked facetiously. “You’re free to leave. Put those guns down.”
With a smug smile, Envy shook her head.
“Mandrake, grab that body. We’re taking him with us,” she announced.
When Silvano tried to slam the lockdown button again, Envy shot him, knocking him back into his seat. Before he was able to try a second time, The Mandrake had closed the distance between them. He grabbed him by the waist and slung him over his shoulder, impotently kicking and flailing like a toddler having a tantrum all the while.
“No!” James growled, his hologram disappearing and being replaced by countless others scattered throughout the room.
“What the hell?” Envy demanded as she fell back beside The Mandrake for protection.
“It’s a distraction! Shoot at the Retrovision! He’s coming through to get Silvano!” The Mandrake shouted.
Envy complied, firing multiple rounds at every image of James between them and the Retrovision, but all of them sailed clear through their targets. The smoke cloud suddenly condensed tightly around them, and The Mandrake made a break for the front door while he had the chance.
He was tackled from the side by someone moving at over fifty kilometers an hour, knocking him down and halfway across the room. When he looked up, he was completely surrounded by silhouettes of James bending down in the smoke to pick up Silvano. Jumping to his feet, he made his way back towards the Retrovision in the hopes of cutting James off.
Or at least, he thought that’s where he was going. The tumble to the floor and the encircling smoke had disoriented him, and he ended up tripping over Seneca, who was once again unable to stand from the sickening smoke.
James brushed by them in a blur, and Envy fired every last bullet trying to put him down. Each one either missed or succeeded only in striking Silvano, who was slung over James’ back.
The smoke retreated with them, and The Mandrake dashed after them in one final bid to keep them from escaping. They were just feet away from him before they leapt through the Retrovision, vanishing into the basement universe of the Darlings’ playroom. The Mandrake dared to reach in after them and pull them back, but his hand hit nothing but solid glass.
“Damnit!” he cursed, striking the top of the box set with his fist.
“Don’t break it!” Envy shouted. “If that Retrovision came from the Darlings’ playroom and was modified by James, it could be useful in tracking them down again!”
“It also gives them a two-way ticket to wherever we keep it!” The Mandrake shouted back.
“Oh yes, it would be a gamble taking this old girl with you. No doubt about that,” the black and white visage of James mocked them from the other side of the screen, taking a victory drag from his cigarette. “But on the other hand, it is one of my finer works. It would be a crime, an atrocity even, to destroy it.”
The Mandrake struck the box set again, but deliberately held back on damaging it.
“Mandrake, enough!” Envy commanded. “I know it’s risky, but we need it. Turn it off and pick it up. We’re getting out of this hellhole.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Mandrake. I’m sure you’ll have another chance to end up in Sara Darling’s doll collection very soon,” James taunted just before The Mandrake managed to turn the Retrovision off.
“What an absolute waste of time,” he muttered as he lifted the vintage box set off the floor.
“Not entirely!” Seneca claimed, who had not only recovered from his spectral smoke inhalation but was now holding an unlit cigar. “Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain has a lien on this shop, and since Silvano just ran out on us and has thrown his lot in with the Darlings, this place and everything left in it is ours!”
He was just about to light it before Envy snatched it out of his hands.
“The Mandrake wasn’t bluffing about the municipal health bylaws,” she informed him. “From now on, this is a smoke-free building.”

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I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it?The soft scratching of my pencil sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh Jesus, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Sammy, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!
Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand and a nasty scar just under my eye. So, it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living off scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening while out with my friend, Graham, he mentioned something about some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.
Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up I couldn’t find any information at all. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand wasn’t good with delicate tasks so when I dialed the number I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced woman who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. Her voice was soothing, “Your credentials are excellent. If you like I can fax some forms and a draft contract over, and we can pay for you to fly on up to see us in person. I’m certain you’ll get offered the job.”
She was right. One flight and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully omitted. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rockin’ the boat,” my new boss, Sammy, said to me curtly. I’ve not discussed it since.
The part of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert. It comprised many green corridors peppered with tall wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Of course, whether or not we wanted to know the nature of the research, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists. Or maybe paleontologists. I often found different objects lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths or even fossilized remains. Others were less identifiable: a melted lump of some glimmering metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.
As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we played cards and drank Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the researchers. Most of them were mean and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies liked was a scrawny guy named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.
It was earlier, at 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited, their lab coats flapping and flowing as they made for the stairs. Soon after this, the large red landline phone near my desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Sammy’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious, “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up. They want to bring it to B.15 so I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” she grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I’ll get some of the boys from B.10 and B.14 to help you out.” I nodded, “Thanks, see you soon”
Donald, Jonesy, some interns and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we met the guards from B.10. and B.14, together we climbed the many stairs to the hangar and waited for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.09 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity, waiting in the shade of the doorway as the relentless sun beat down outside. I squinted. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter with an enormous rectangular shaped mass dangling below it.
Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto a wide wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about. The air was blaring with the sound of helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down. My colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Sammy emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. Her hair was in its characteristic librarian-bun but her eyes were glassy. Had she been drinking? We quickly reviewed the paper work she gave me and then she made her way back downstairs to her office in section B.1. She was keen to get away for some reason.
As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto a wooden scaffold fitted with wheels and had been pushed slowly into the center of the hangar. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs, leaving plenty of space for the object.
The object was a wall. It was rectangular and about twenty-five feet long, ten feet thick and twelve feet high. The wall first appeared made from boring grey stone. I even remember thinking, “It’s not even that big”. However, when I looked closer it was, alive. I barely noticed the helicopter take off and leave as I saw the wall’s surface bubble. The hangar doors began to close as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name. I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought dug into my mind: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotten clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall, “Honestly, we have no idea”.
I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled, “Guh, this thing smells like something my dog puked up”. Meanwhile Jonesy stared with eyes as large as saucers, “It looks so cool!” Once downstairs, I told Donald and Jonesy to take some forms to the admin department and I returned alone to my office to get some more coffee and file away the rest of the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the force fusing my eyelids together.
I’ve been hungover a lot, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularlyawful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses. My forehead throbbed and I was bruised. I also felt a weird pressure squeezing my head from all sides. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.
Then I froze.
A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table at the center of the room. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying there, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of dark scarlet stained his blue uniform. His eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I ran to my landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.
The line was dead.
I was so confused. We had lots of fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. I rushed back to the monitors. The cameras were all operating normally. I started to breathe heavily. I couldn’t see anyone. The corridors were green and bare. I looked at the clock. It was 1817h. I had slept for about two hours. But where was everyone? Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and my head was throbbing. My eyes narrowed with a sudden thought. Where was that wall?
I searched for the wall and found it was back in the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was absolutely enormous! Just over two times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. The hangar floor was covered in blood. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?
I spun my head to look at the security panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already racing, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized Donald must have activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did I really sleep through all this? Where was Jonesy? I looked back at Donald, my heart still racing from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.
Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that displayed the footage of room 278B and the surrounding corridors. The screens were black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I have to know. I hit play.
The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything was normal. It was 1623h when they were unstrapping the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the flesh of the wall. It wrapped around Benny and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced.
Without realizing it I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew a few inches higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched into a permanent scream. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridors outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the thralls. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray research intern to her feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.
I could still hear the pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew. More ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it reached everyone in the Facility. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison, with vacant expressions, they moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Sammy and Jonesy, and so many others I knew. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.
A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the intern he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.
As soon as Donald got close to 278B a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into his chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall to the ground. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took this opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and, still fumbling with his keys, attempted to open the ammunitions cupboard. Before he could find the right key, he cursed and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!
My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved. Why not Donald? And me? My eyebrows shot up into my receding hairline with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” And Donald had a steel plate in his skull too because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it meant the thing possesses sentience.
While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person even noticed. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.
It was 1735h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t appear to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity found only in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they did not yield. After just over half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already? I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.
Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. My eyes grew even wider and I grabbed at my hair, “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new clarity to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were sunken and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier?”, I gasped with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”
I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the twenty pounds of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”
Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves burned with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were the longest I’d ever experienced. Eventually dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.
BANG!
The door shook and bent slightly.
BANG!
Silence.
BANG!
My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. I turned to look at the screens. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as they flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thingwas in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”
I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a sawed-off shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs. I walked up the stairs carefully. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. After many minutes, I was near the hangar. Then I heard the soft sound of crying.
Someone was crying. No. Many people were crying.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. Once my head peeked over the top of the landing, I froze. The wall loomed gigantic before me. Its edges were now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony; tortured souls bound together. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But you will” came the sound of hundreds of twisted voices fused into one. “We are them. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.”
A deafening blast came from the wall and slithering, tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitched roar that was pure torment, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I slammed into the floor a few feet away. As I hit the ground I yelled in pain and heard something metallic smash. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. I noticed immediately that the remote detonator had been smashed beyond repair. With the creature momentarily out of sight, I kneeled and took off my backpack as fast as I could. “Only one way then”, I said quietly as I pulled out the bomb and started the timer manually. I also got the shotgun out. I needed to do this now or never.
As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was way too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into one of the creature’s mouths and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of grey chunks. These rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircrafts. The blast knocked me off my feet.
When I awoke I could see early morning light through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I coughed and lifted my head to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my mouth opened. They were melting. I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2. It was rebuilding itself.
As I stood to run I heard a groan. My blood became ice.
I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had six legs which came out of its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my feet were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.
Now I lie in wait. What is that thing? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further.
So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside!
Shit! Shit! I hear keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?
Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

In my last story, a space mermaid warned against the dangers of smoking. The Darlings did not heed that warning, so now Space Whale Aesops shall ensue.
____________________________________________________
“The Darling Twins? Honestly, haven’t we all had enough of them by now?” Seneca ruminated as he tried to placate what was now the de facto triumvirate of the Ophion Occult Order.
Once again, he had been summoned to Adderwood Manor to account for his lapses in judgement, but rather than being on full public display in the Grand Hall, he instead found himself in a relatively small parlour. Across from the coffee table in front of him sat Ivy Noir, with her sister Envy to her right and her husband Erich to her left. Standing just to the side of them was the trenchcoat and fedora-wearing automaton who called himself The Mandrake. The one-eyed dream-catcher carved into his iridescent face rendered his emotions unreadable, but the spellwork pistols holstered in his belt made it clear that he was prepared to defend his employers against anything.
“I mean, this feud between them and Emrys is laughable,” Seneca went on. “They’re no threat to him now that he’s free of his chains, surely? Before there may have been a tactical element to his obsession with them, but now it’s just plain petty. Petra’s just out for revenge, and don’t get me started on the absurdity of that eldritch realtor wanting to flip their playroom. Does he think he can just relabel their torture chambers as BDSM dungeons and pass the Black Bile infestation off as some mould?”
“Seneca, I promised Emrys the Darlings, and the Covenant that we all signed binds us to fulfill that promise,” Ivy reminded him patiently, dropping a cube of sugar into her ouroboros-themed antique teacup. “You knew the Darlings better than any of us. You inducted them into the Order, you used them as assassins and bodyguards, and you let them withdraw every penny they had in your bank when they were fugitives!”
“Well, first of all, Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain is a financial institution, not a bank,” Seneca said flippantly. “Secondly, they had a numbered account and they didn’t show up in person, so the teller didn’t have the slightest idea of who they were dealing with.”
“You still could have frozen the account before they had that opportunity,” Erich stated.
Seneca made a display of languidly stirring some cream into his tea and taking a slow sip before responding.
“I’m very busy,” he claimed without an ounce of sincerity.
“You just didn’t want to get on the Darlings’ bad side,” Ivy said.
“I wasn’t aware they had a good side,” Seneca shrugged.
“There must be a paper trail we can follow,” Envy insisted. “Did the Darlings keep their assets anywhere else besides your bank?”
“Financial institution, and yes, I’m sure they have a proverbial Swiss bank account, but I haven’t the slightest notion of where to find it,” Seneca claimed. “It has come up in conversation that James invested about twenty percent of his income with me, twenty percent elsewhere, and shoved another twenty percent under their mattress. Mary enjoys being shagged on top of money, apparently. Their services commanded quite a high price on the underworld market, and sixty-plus years of compound interest have made them incredibly wealthy. They can afford to lie low for a long while.”
“Even if they can go without a paycheck indefinitely, they can’t go without killing,” Erich countered. “They need to hunt, and their egos mean they aren’t just going to cower from Emrys inside their playroom. They’re going to be out looking for victims and plotting against us, and you know what spots they’re likely to hit.”
“You’re wasting your time. James has had decades to scout out hunting grounds, and I’m sure he prepared for the possibility – no, inevitability – that he and his sister would become our enemies. He’s not going to risk showing up within a hundred miles of any of our Chapterhouses if he doesn’t need to,” Seneca said dismissively.
Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when The Mandrake took a step forward for the first time since the meeting began. He reached into his pocket and tossed a red and white pack of cigarettes with a shiny silhouette of a stag onto the coffee table.
“What is this?” Erich asked.
“Satin Stag cigarettes,” The Mandrake said flatly before shifting his gaze to Seneca. “That’s the Darlings’ brand, isn’t it, Mr. Chamberlain?”
“Um, yes. I believe I’ve seen them smoke those once or twice. What of it?” Seneca asked, failing to hide the nervousness creeping into his voice.
“These are artisanal cigarettes, and Harrowick County’s the only place you can buy them,” The Mandrake said. “That means that the Darlings, either directly or indirectly, are going to have to make the occasional sojourn back home, and the limited supply of these hand-rolled coffin nails means they can’t stock up too far in advance either. You know Harrowick County better than any of us. You know who makes these, you know who sells them. That’s how we track down the Darlings.”
“That’s preposterous. Do you really think they’d risk coming to Harrowick County rather than just switch brands?” Seneca scoffed.
“The Very Important Person at Pascal’s told me that Mary said they’ve been smoking these since they were kids, so they’re clearly pretty attached to them,” The Mandrake replied. “And somehow, I don’t think they’re the type to ever give up a bad habit.”
***
“Smoke & Mirrors ~ Fine Tobacco Products. Silvano Santoro, Proprietor. Est. 1949,” Envy read aloud as she, Seneca and The Mandrake stood outside the small, heavily fortified brick building.
Cast iron bars crisscrossed the windows and front door, which looked like it stood a decent chance of withstanding a police swat team. Security was obviously the shop’s proprietor’s key concern, as the ugly brown and yellow awning was tattered and faded, and the paint on the sign was so chipped it was barely even legible.
“How exactly does an unnoticeable and unattractive hole in the wall like this stay in business?” Envy asked.
“Repeat customers,” Seneca replied as he took a confident step towards the door. “Silvano knows me, and he doesn’t normally have a problem with me bringing guests along, but I expect both of you to be on your best behaviour!”
Envy gave him a reassuring nod, but The Mandrake continued to stoically stare at nothing with his hands in his pockets. Rolling his eyes, Seneca pressed a bulky plastic button on the antiquated door buzzer.
“Yeah, who is it?” a harsh and smoke-damaged voice demanded.
“It’s Seneca, Silvano. A pleasure to make your acquaintance again as well!” Seneca answered. “Just looking to pick up a few cases of cigars for a party, if you’ve got anything decent in stock, of course.”
“Who’s that you got with you?” Silvano asked suspiciously.
“Envy Noir, sir. I’m here on behalf of my sister Ivy, investigating a matter of considerable importance to the Ophion Occult Order,” Envy promptly introduced herself, much to Seneca’s chagrin. “The gentleman beside me is my bodyguard. Would you be so kind as to let us in?”
“Ah… of course. Just a moment, please,” Silvano replied.
“What’s he need a moment to buzz open a door for?” The Mandrake demanded, his stance immediately switching to full readiness.
“Making the place presentable for customers, I assume,” Seneca explained in exasperation.
“You mean he’s hiding evidence, or he’s running!” The Mandrake shouted.
“He’s a nonagenarian heavy smoker. He couldn’t run if his life depended on it,” Seneca insisted.
“I’ll see about that,” The Mandrake muttered.
Shoving Seneca out of the way, he kicked the door in with barely any effort. Storming into the shop, he saw a slender older man with thick white hair and rimmed glasses seated behind the front counter. His saggy, spotted skin was a living PSA against the products he peddled, and in his tobacco-stained hand, he held the receiver of an ornate rotary phone.
Staring at The Mandrake in cold fury, he calmly set the receiver back down in its cradle.
“Who were you talking to?” The Mandrake demanded.
“A client,” Silvano barked back with a shake of his head, picking up a burning cigarette from a nearby ashtray.
“Silvano, I am profusely sorry for this abject and uncouth behaviour! This being is no friend of mine, I can assure you,” Seneca asserted as he and Envy made their way inside.
“The feeling’s mutual, Chamberlain,” The Mandrake remarked. “Mr. Santoro, I apologize for the damage to the premises, but as Miss Noir has said, we’re here on urgent business.”
“Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been given to understand the Darling Twins are regular customers of yours,” Envy explained, before the smoke-saturated room sent her into a coughing spell. She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a black N95 mask she had left over from the Pandemic.
“I’ve got plenty of regular customers,” Silvan replied defensively. “Customers who pay good money for that smoke you’re so offended by, young lady.”
“These ones have been coming here for over half a century and never aged a day,” The Mandrake said.
“That honestly doesn’t narrow it down that much,” Silvano chuckled, tapping his cigarette on his ashtray. “But yeah, I know the Darlings. What of it?”
“When was the last time they were here?” The Mandrake demanded.
“What’s it to you?” Silvano asked.
“They’re fugitives of the Order now and we want them brought in,” Envy replied, having donned her mask and mostly recovered from the smoke. “Mary Darling held a knife to my throat once in front of my sister, and later threatened to eat me alive in front of her and feed me to her pigs.”
“They were going to put me in their daughter’s doll collection,” The Mandrake muttered.
“And I have nothing but nice things to say about the Darlings, so I’m honestly not quite sure how I got dragged into this,” Seneca said. “That aside, it really would be of great help to us if you could share any information about them that you might have.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. They come in, they buy their smokes, they leave, just like most of my customers,” Silvano told them.
“But now they’re trying to lay low, so I’m guessing they’ve made some sort of arrangement with you to get their Satin Stag cigarettes without having to risk coming here in person,” The Mandrake said. “Maybe they set you up with one of their spare Retrovisions? Emrys said they had a few of those lying around, and they can use them as direct portals to their playroom.”
“Like they’d waste a fancy piece of technomancy like that on an old geezer like me. I haven’t seen them in months. Last year sometime, I think,” Silvano claimed.
The Mandrake casually strolled up to the front counter, rapping his fingers on the cheap glass display case.
“Real nice place you got here, Mr. Santoro. I mean, not really, but I’m sure you get the implication,” he said softly. “Ironic as it may be, a smoke shop isn’t exempt from municipal bylaws about smoking in public buildings and workspaces. You may not have had much trouble with local law enforcement before, but one phone call from my employers will change that real quick.”
“You think I’ve never been threatened before, punk?” Silvano asked, rising from his chair and staring him down.
“Boys, please, there’s no need for this,” Envy interjected. “Mr. Santoro, our Order has considerably more resources at its disposal than the Darlings, and we can certainly offer you a far greater reward for their capture than whatever they’re paying you for some cigarettes. You could retire; close this place down and get as far away as you like. How does that sound?”
“I’m not looking to retire, Miss. This business is all I’ve got, and it wouldn’t be good business to go around ratting out my best customers, now would it?” Silvano asked.
“It would be worse business to sacrifice everything you have to protect two customers,” The Mandrake threatened, his hands clamping down on the display cases so hard they began to creak. “Talk.”
Acknowledging him only with a furtive glance, Silvano took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled.
But this time, the smoke poured out from his mouth and nostrils without limit.
“What the hell?” The Mandrake cursed as he backed away.
Silvano pushed a button beneath the counter, putting his shop into lockdown with security shutters clamping down over every entrance point. As the smoke exuded from his body, it went limp and collapsed into a dried-out husk as the smoke coalesced into an animate form of its own, circling above them around the shop’s yellowed and textured ceiling.
“Damnit. Another egregore,” Envy muttered. “That explains his loyalties. The Darlings couldn’t eat him, but Emrys could.”
“So you’re saying we can’t negotiate it with it?” The Mandrake asked.
“Or fight it,” Envy clarified.
“In that case, it appears we’ve exhausted all our options. Time for a tactical retreat,” Seneca declared as he dashed for the now barricaded exit.
Whatever he was planning to do to get through it, the cloud of smoke cut him off before he got the chance. Rushing in through his nose and mouth, it immediately began suffocating him, sending him spasming to the ground as he choked for air.
The cloud assaulted Envy as well, but was unable to penetrate her mask.
“Godamnit, get away!” she shouted as she swatted it away from her burning eyes.
“Envy, get behind me now!” The Mandrake ordered as he drew out his pistols. “Sorry, Santoro, but you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if you want to intimidate us!”
Seneca responded by gasping angrily and bashing his hand against the carpet.
“… A lot worse,” The Mandrake reiterated. “I may not be able to shoot you, but I will blow this health hazard you love so much to hell if you don’t tell me where I can find the Darlings!”
“There’ll be no need for that, Mr. Mandrake,” the voice of James Darling crackled in from some unseen speaker. A door off to the side slowly creaked open, revealing a Retrovision flickering with black and white static. The Mandrake wasted no time in shooting at it, but the bullets passed through the glass without causing any damage at all.
A hologram of James Darling manifested in the center of the room, a burning Satin Stag cigarette clutched neatly in his fingers. He saw Seneca suffocating on the floor, then turned his predatory and calculating gaze towards The Mandrake.
“Put the guns on the floor, and I’ll call Silvano off,” he offered.
The Mandrake didn’t seem to be the least bit tempted by this offer, but Envy tugged at his trenchcoat and gave him a commanding nudge. Reluctantly, The Mandrake tossed the guns to the carpet and placed his hands behind his head.
With only a single commanding wag of his index finger, the smoke cloud withdrew from Seneca’s lungs and collected itself above James like a thundercloud.
“No sense in killing you, Seneca. That would practically be doing Emrys a favour,” James said. “But Envy, what’s a pretty girl like you doing wearing a mask?”
“You’d better not let your sister hear you calling me that,” Envy taunted.
“Kind of you to worry, but it’s always the object of my flirtations who bear the brunt of my sister’s wrath,” James reminded her smugly. “Top-notch detective work tracking me down, Mr. Mandrake. Why don’t you walk in through the Retrovision and arrest me?”
“You knew we’d show up here looking for you. You were waiting for us,” The Mandrake growled.
“Again, brilliant detective work. You’ve truly earned that fedora,” James mocked him. “Yes, I knew you’d come here looking for us, so I’ve arranged for Mr. Santoro to set up shop inside our playroom. He was only hanging around here to set a trap for you. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. None of you, not even you, Mr. Mandrake, are going to be able to break out of this building. You can sit there and starve for all I care, or Miss Noir and The Mandrake could take their chances with us on the other side of the Retrovision. Sara Darling really would like to put you in her doll collection, Mr. Mandrake, and I can’t wait to tell Mary Darling exactly how pretty I think you are, Envy. If the two of you come across, I’ll let Seneca go and he can inform Erich and Ivy of your predicament. If they’d like to negotiate for your release, I… may be willing to consider it.”
“You’re a coward! If you’re going to threaten me, step across that screen and do it to my face!” the Mandrake ordered.
He took his hands off his head and took a step towards him, only for the acrid form of Silvano to interject itself between them. James took a casual drag from his cigarette, refusing even to flinch.
Envy took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the pair of spellwork pistols off of the floor, firing two rounds of consecrated lead into the limp body of Silvano. While the body didn’t react at all, the smoke cloud shook and screeched like a wounded animal, losing some of its integrity and dissipating across the room.
“That body’s not just a husk! Silvano’s bound to it!” Envy declared. “James, if you don’t let us go in the next thirty seconds I’ll have The Mandrake tear that body limb from limb and you’ll have to find some other cursed thoughtform to roll your cigarettes for you.”
The Mandrake looked back towards James who now, much to his satisfaction, had flinched.
“Thirty. Twenty-Nine. Twenty-Eight,” he began to count down as he theatrically cracked his knuckles.
Before James could come to a decision, a few wisps of smoke snaked their way back into Silvano’s body. They were enough to animate it like a marionette, its limbs moving jerkily as it input the code to retract the security shutters over the doors and windows.
“There, happy?” James asked facetiously. “You’re free to leave. Put those guns down.”
With a smug smile, Envy shook her head.
“Mandrake, grab that body. We’re taking him with us,” she announced.
When Silvano tried to slam the lockdown button again, Envy shot him, knocking him back into his seat. Before he was able to try a second time, The Mandrake had closed the distance between them. He grabbed him by the waist and slung him over his shoulder, impotently kicking and flailing like a toddler having a tantrum all the while.
“No!” James growled, his hologram disappearing and being replaced by countless others scattered throughout the room.
“What the hell?” Envy demanded as she fell back beside The Mandrake for protection.
“It’s a distraction! Shoot at the Retrovision! He’s coming through to get Silvano!” The Mandrake shouted.
Envy complied, firing multiple rounds at every image of James between them and the Retrovision, but all of them sailed clear through their targets. The smoke cloud suddenly condensed tightly around them, and The Mandrake made a break for the front door while he had the chance.
He was tackled from the side by someone moving at over fifty kilometers an hour, knocking him down and halfway across the room. When he looked up, he was completely surrounded by silhouettes of James bending down in the smoke to pick up Silvano. Jumping to his feet, he made his way back towards the Retrovision in the hopes of cutting James off.
Or at least, he thought that’s where he was going. The tumble to the floor and the encircling smoke had disoriented him, and he ended up tripping over Seneca, who was once again unable to stand from the sickening smoke.
James brushed by them in a blur, and Envy fired every last bullet trying to put him down. Each one either missed or succeeded only in striking Silvano, who was slung over James’ back.
The smoke retreated with them, and The Mandrake dashed after them in one final bid to keep them from escaping. They were just feet away from him before they leapt through the Retrovision, vanishing into the basement universe of the Darlings’ playroom. The Mandrake dared to reach in after them and pull them back, but his hand hit nothing but solid glass.
“Damnit!” he cursed, striking the top of the box set with his fist.
“Don’t break it!” Envy shouted. “If that Retrovision came from the Darlings’ playroom and was modified by James, it could be useful in tracking them down again!”
“It also gives them a two-way ticket to wherever we keep it!” The Mandrake shouted back.
“Oh yes, it would be a gamble taking this old girl with you. No doubt about that,” the black and white visage of James mocked them from the other side of the screen, taking a victory drag from his cigarette. “But on the other hand, it is one of my finer works. It would be a crime, an atrocity even, to destroy it.”
The Mandrake struck the box set again, but deliberately held back on damaging it.
“Mandrake, enough!” Envy commanded. “I know it’s risky, but we need it. Turn it off and pick it up. We’re getting out of this hellhole.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Mandrake. I’m sure you’ll have another chance to end up in Sara Darling’s doll collection very soon,” James taunted just before The Mandrake managed to turn the Retrovision off.
“What an absolute waste of time,” he muttered as he lifted the vintage box set off the floor.
“Not entirely!” Seneca claimed, who had not only recovered from his spectral smoke inhalation but was now holding an unlit cigar. “Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain has a lien on this shop, and since Silvano just ran out on us and has thrown his lot in with the Darlings, this place and everything left in it is ours!”
He was just about to light it before Envy snatched it out of his hands.
“The Mandrake wasn’t bluffing about the municipal health bylaws,” she informed him. “From now on, this is a smoke-free building.”

TLDR: Receptive oral sex exposure without ejaculation and only precum. MSM, possible bleeding gums and gingivitis risk factors. Mild isolated symptom at 4 week mark. Severe ARS like symptoms at 6 week mark. Tested negative for covid and flu on what i assume to be a rapid test at the hospital. Looking for advice regarding exposure risk, conflicting information and anxiety
For over 1 year I have been struggling with really bad anxiety due to HIV. Hopefully later this year i can have a conversation about it with my parents and get tested. Hopefully someone can provide some advice and another prespective
My exposure was receptive oral sex. He (19M) did not ejaculate in my mouth. However there was precum and my mouth was very dry, especially the roof of my mouth which came into contact with with the precum mostly. I dont recall any ulcers in my mouth and I brushed my teeth around 3 hours before so if there were cuts from brushing i would imagine they healed. I also have gingivitis.
Now for the symptoms.
The day after i had a bad sore throat which lasted almost a week. I sure this isint related but this was what sparked my anxiety.
Around the 4 week mark. I got another mild sore throat. Few days later i got antibiotics. towards the end of my course my dad said his throat felt weird too. Either way it got less serious but there was some hot flashes.
The main issue was the day before the 6 week mark. I woke up with 2am with stabbing pains in my chest which got worse as i breathe. I tried screaming (thats how painful it was) to get the attention of my family members but i couldnt scream loud enough, once they were awake we went to the ER where they did what i assume to be rapid test for influenza and covid which came back negative in an hour. I was diagnosed with acute phyrangitis.
From that point on all the synptoms came on. The chest pains(pleursy) High fever(broke and became low fever after 2 days) Night sweats(worst for the first 2 days, the bed no longer got drenched after). Very painful sore throat Muscle aches (initially generalized, then only on one side of the body, subsided within a week) Swollen lymph nodes in both armpits one ulcer Cough
Syptoms went away one by one over 2 weeks. Sore throat and lymph node were the last to go. High fever being the earliest to go.
Alot of times on here i see people test negative with light symptoms or just one or 2 of these systems, but everytime i see people with all these symptoms they test positive.
Part of me feels like it was covid or mono(partially due to the fact that my mom got pretty sick with flu like symptoms around a week after my severe symptoms and I heard that these 1 hour hospital test for covid and flu can have false negatives alot.
I understand that receptive oral sex, especially without ejaculation is a very low risk, pep isint even recommended according to one of the guidelines posted regarding hiv in my country: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/364689111_Malaysian_Consensus_Guideines_on_Antiretrviral_Therapy_2022
However ive seen way too many post here on reddit, poz.com and on the news about hiv through oral sex. I-base even says that 5% of cases yearly are assumed to be from oral sex. Yet ive seen reputable drs such as Dr Hunter Hansfield and Dr Hook say they never had a paitent who got hiv from receptive Oral sex (despite acknowledging that there have been very few proven cases).
Im sorry for all the rambling and really long winded post. My country isint as great as other countries in regards to hiv prevention (21% of MSM estimated to be hiv positive, though the estimate is likely in accurate. And only around 60% of HIV+ people here are on ART) which makes me extremely worried. Additionally my parents finding out, being denined insurance claims and being discriminated against while im looking for employment if i get HIV has caused me alot of anxiety so much that i tend to sleep at 5am these days.
Im hoping some of you could advise me on how to move on. The internet is full of contradicting information, especially among reputable sites, experts and activists. I know that people can live with long lives despite having hiv but it would ruin my life in so many other ways which keep me up at night.

Female 16, my body has been really acting weird recently and im not sure why or if im just being paranoid. ive been having a really bad cough for the past week even tho im not sick and neither is anyone around me, like 2 days ago i literally was unable to move my hand without feeling pain for 10 hours straight, im 8 days late for my period, i feel like im going to throw up all the time and im gagging at any smell— sometimes when i cough too much i start gagging. it feels like my body is rotting from the inside. for background i own 4 cats in my house (ive owned them for a very long time so i doubt its them), i live with smoker & im a smoker myself but its not too often. should i visit the doctor ? i just want to make sure its something bad worth visiting the doctor for since i cant always afford healthcare.

"If one man in a sea of fools is just a little smarter than the rest of them, can you really say he's clever? No, you can't! The fact he didn't see it himself proves he wasn't such a genius!"

Immortal Demon King Badigadi is like the walking embodiment of what is probably the single most famous quote in western philosophy, "I know that I know nothing." And all it took for him to figure it out was his thousands of years of life experience, a war of total annihilation, and coming back from the dead. Okay, so he was a bit slow on the uptake. He'd be the first to admit the Immortal Demon tribe can be a tad too patient when it comes to figuring things out and getting things done. Socrates thought really hard for a few years and figured out an approach to life that has remained a functional part of human culture for thousands of years, surviving even the collapse of his own civilization. Badigadi just needed a little push... in the form of a continent annihilating explosion to help that same message penetrate the thickness of his skull.
That's not to say Badi is as much of an idiot as he claims (quite the opposite in fact!), only that he must be a tad foolish that he requires life-altering paradigm shifts to piece together obvious solutions to personal issues that most people intuit naturally or otherwise don't worry about in the first place. Kishirika might be a tad lax about her own self-preservation, but she intuitively understands how to enjoy life. Meanwhile, Badi toils away, stuck in his own head, ruminating endlessly, playing back the difficult choices and mistakes he's made in the past over and over until he becomes paralyzed with indecision and self-doubt. I'm sure it goes without saying that this endless cycle of rumination is a struggle many of us identify with all too often.
Whilst retrieving the Fighting God Armor, Badigadi enters one such cycle of rumination and uses the process of breaking him from it as a test for Geese. He ruminates on the loss of culture and knowledge, of heroes and legends eroded by the sands of time, of landscapes and terrain that no longer exist yet live on solely within the memory of his tribe. He feels the tremendous weight of that loss and the burden of being one of the sole remaining people carrying the legacy of what was. It's the equivalent of being personal friends with Socrates himself and living long enough to not only witness his death and the implosion of his civilization, but the memory of his very existence fade away with the passage of time such that a quote as foundational to civilization as "I know that I know nothing" is not even esoteric knowledge amongst modern civilization. Try as we might, the concept of existence beyond our own lifespans is difficult and alien to us. How does one reckon with the weight of eternity?
Yet, despite Geese' deeply flawed perspective on life, he passes the test with flying colors. While his vocabulary is ineloquent and his mannerisms uncouth, his words carry weight precisely because of his intent rather than the intelligence with which he conveys it. He effectively points out that living memory and perspectives are relative. All one has to do to witness the erasure of one's history and culture is travel a few miles in any direction. If you were go to any country in Asia and ask someone to recite the most famous quote in philosophy, odds are Socrates would not even be in the top 100, instead defaulting to one of the many famous Confucius sayings such as, "He who learns but does not think, is lost. He who thinks but does not learn is in great danger." Such a quote would also perfectly meld with Badigadi's philosophical nature! Then again, one doesn't even need to travel that far to receive a similar level of culture shock. Just go down to a local frat house and attempt to engage in a philosophical debate to receive a myriad of blank stares from kids who've never even heard of these "Sock-rats" or "Confusion" guys. Yet you'd be hard pressed to find a group more joyful and bursting with life! Say what you will about fools, they know how to find happiness with such little effort!
It's paradoxical to those of us for whom rumination is the norm. To solve problems and find solutions through logical means and to take preventative measures to ensure we are prepared for the worst. Yet it leaves us unsatisfied and deeply unhappy most of the time. Certainly, compared to a fool we're more productive, proactive, and conscientious in applying lessons learned from the past to our plans for the future. Yet we are the least prepared when plans go awry.
Certainly the trauma of his own misguided actions during the Second Great Human Demon War lives on in his heart. To this day he can recall with perfect clarity the feeling of his blade piercing his beloved Kishirika, the sound of her comforting laughter as she chides his stubborn, humorless demeanor, and his humiliating, impotent rage and anguish towards the so-called God of Humans who manipulated him. But time has a way of putting things into perspective.

"There are some battles you can't win just by manipulating things from the safety of the shadows. Sometimes you gotta put your life on the line, to gamble on your chance at victory. I know it." said Badigadi. "There was a time I didn't, which is why I ended up losing everything. So, I learned, I've honed my body, chugged all kinds of alcohol, and made battalions of friends! FWAHAHAHA! I wish I could show you the puny nobody I used to be!"

Indeed, Badigadi was once a self-conscious, neurotic introvert with a bad habit of shutting himself away from social contact. Remind you of anyone? Yes, much like a certain man awkwardly fumbling through his marriage nuptials, I suppose I should follow Lord Badi's advice and simply cut to the heart of the matter this time, FWAHAHA! Just like nearly everyone else in the cast, Badigadi is yet another foil to Rudeus!
More specifically, Pre-Fighting God Badigadi most closely resembles Eartheus. Actually, "resembles" might not be a strong enough description. If you ignore his 6 arms, obsidian black skin, enormous stature, or the very concept of physical appearance in general and you could scarcely tell them apart! Or so Kishirika might say given her ability to perceive the "shape of their soul" when she describes the "boring man" Badi used to be:

"You are too serious for your own good... Too sour faced. Always holing up in your room... never drinking any ale... never sleeping...! What's so fun about that?"

In fact, the similarities only become more pronounced the more you look at their history. As youths they were naturally more gifted in intelligence than their peers, took their intelligence for granted, and became so lax in accumulating knowledge (instead resting on the laurels of their natural talent) they found themselves hopelessly unprepared to keep pace with the demands of their changing environment culminating in a beating (by bullies/Aldebaran respectively) so vicious it left their confidence shattered.
Similarly, they have both "reincarnated" (or regenerated in Badi's case) once after making the worst mistake of their life (not attending parent's funeral/donning the Fighting God Armor). Using this fresh start they hone their body, drink some good ale, make battalions of friends, and sleep with some women. Certainly there are some nasty bumps along the road, but they eventually find their happiness with the people they love leading to the pair of satisfied, contented men we find at the end of Volume 26. I realize that's a fairly... erm, \reductive\** description for the events that encompass the entirety of the Mushoku Tensei series, but to be fair that's pretty much how Badigadi himself would describe their lives up to this point.
Indeed, in their final few conversations with the Man-God, Rudy and Badigadi's reaction to his tantrums are identical. Despite the acknowledgement of his misdeeds and petulant, infantile behavior, they express their gratitude to him. That's not to say they FORGIVE him for his past malfeasance and betrayal, but a few decades/millennia spent living a satisfying, productive, happy life to the absolute fullest provides them with perspective. They come to understand that the trials in life are what gave those fleeting, mundane moments meaning. Without the paradigm shift that the Man-God (unintentionally) provided them, they would have remained shut away in their own heads even during periods of rest, fretting about the next life problem they must deal with, incapable of truly relishing those lulling, humdrum moments sandwiched between the tribulations.
Badigadi serves as an example of how to lead a life well lived. When reflecting back on the time most precious to us, it's not the outcomes of those hard times that come to mind... it's those quiet moments spent with friends and family that give us the most joy precisely because they were so fleeting.

"The shorter-lived races always wanted to cut down on wasted time. Even though wasting time is what made that time so special..."

TLDR: Receptive oral sex exposure without ejaculation and only precum. MSM, possible bleeding gums and gingivitis risk factors. Mild isolated symptom at 4 week mark. Severe ARS like symptoms at 6 week mark. Tested negative for covid and flu on what i assume to be a rapid test at the hospital. Looking for advice regarding exposure risk, conflicting information and anxiety
For over 1 year I have been struggling with heavy anxiety due to HIV. Hopefully later this year i can have a conversation about it with my parents and get tested. Hopefully someone can provide some advice and another prespective
My exposure was receptive oral sex. He (19M) did not ejaculate in my mouth. However there was precum and my mouth was very dry, especially the roof of my mouth which came into contact with with the precum mostly. I dont recall any ulcers in my mouth and I brushed my teeth around 3 hours before so if there were cuts from brushing i would imagine they healed. I also have gingivitis.
Now for the symptoms.
The day after i had a bad sore throat which lasted almost a week. I sure this isint related but this was what sparked my anxiety.
Around the 4 week mark. I got another mild sore throat. Few days later i got antibiotics. towards the end of my course my dad said his throat felt weird too. Either way it got less serious but there was some hot flashes.
The main issue was the day before the 6 week mark. I woke up with 2am with stabbing pains in my chest which got worse as i breathe. I tried screaming (thats how painful it was) to get the attention of my family members but i couldnt scream loud enough, once they were awake we went to the ER where they did what i assume to be rapid test for influenza and covid which came back negative in an hour. I was diagnosed with acute phyrangitis.
From that point on all the synptoms came on. The chest pains(pleursy) High fever(broke and became low fever after 2 days) Night sweats(worst for the first 2 days, the bed no longer got drenched after). Very painful sore throat Muscle aches (initially generalized, then only on one side of the body, subsided within a week) Swollen lymph nodes in both armpits one ulcer Cough
Syptoms went away one by one over 2 weeks. Sore throat and lymph node were the last to go. High fever being the earliest to go.
Alot of times on here i see people test negative with light symptoms or just one or 2 of these systems, but everytime i see people with all these symptoms they test positive.
Part of me feels like it was covid or mono(partially due to the fact that my mom got pretty sick with flu like symptoms around a week after my severe symptoms and I heard that these 1 hour hospital test for covid and flu can have false negatives alot.
I understand that receptive oral sex, especially without ejaculation is a very low risk, pep isint even recommended according to one of the guidelines posted regarding hiv in my country: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/364689111_Malaysian_Consensus_Guideines_on_Antiretrviral_Therapy_2022
However ive seen way too many post here on reddit, poz.com and on the news about hiv through oral sex. I-base even says that 5% of cases yearly are assumed to be from oral sex. Yet ive seen reputable drs such as Dr Hunter Hansfield and Dr Hook say they never had a paitent who got hiv from receptive Oral sex (despite acknowledging that there have been very few proven cases).
Im sorry for all the rambling and really long winded post. My country isint as great as other countries in regards to hiv prevention (21% of MSM estimated to be hiv positive, though the estimate is likely in accurate. And only around 60% of HIV+ people here are on ART) which makes me extremely worried. Additionally my parents finding out, being denined insurance claims and being discriminated against while im looking for employment if i get HIV has caused me alot of anxiety so much that i tend to sleep at 5am these days.
Im hoping some of you could advise me on how to move on. The internet is full of contradicting information, especially among reputable sites, experts and activists. I know that people can live with long lives despite having hiv but it would ruin my life in so many other ways which keep me up at night.