I thought it would be an amazing idea to order a 2-3 inch front lift kit for my truck.. my issue is.. idk if the rear would be level with the front. How much of a lift would I need in the rear? If any.. and how much bigger would I need my shocks in the rear..
Another question, would coilovers work as rear shocks? Or should I just stick with shocks.
I have an 06 gmc sierra 1500. If that helps anything.

I’ve tried the largest cowboy boots and even elevator shoes that claim 4 inch height. Shoe lifts with 4+ lifts also gives 1.7 inches at max after taking 4 inch space because of compression and steep slope. The maximum height I’ve reached is around 2.2-2.3 inches if I don’t use 4+ lifts of shoe lift with a 1.5-1.6 inch boot(which looks like a boot people here claim to give 3 inches). Even the dr martens Jadon give ~1.6 inches. I’m UK 9/US 10 for context.

Hi There!
This is Datavio.ai recruitment team (previously Teemwork.ai). It's a pleasure connecting with you again.
We have a new opportunity that might interest you. Please see the details below:
We are looking for participants to join us on a new video data collection (one-off task).
Task: This Study aims to collect videos of single object captures using iOS devices. Participants will use the integrated app Reality Composer, available on the Apple App Store. Their role involves capturing diverse everyday objects in 3D using the rear-facing camera.
-Each participant can contribute up to 100 assets. -Objects should be everyday items (no PII or NSFW content). -Follow guidelines for lighting, background, and object specifications.
Requirements: iPhone 12 Pro / 12 Pro Max iPhone 13 Pro / 13 Pro Max iPhone 14 Pro / 14 Pro Max iPhone 15 Pro / 15 Pro Max iPad Pro (third-generation 11-inch) or (fifth-generation 12.9-inch models from 2020 or later)
Rate: USD 2.25 per approved asset
If you are interested in participating in this project, please fill out the form, which will take only 1-2 minutes of your time. This will help us determine your eligibility to participate in this project. If you are eligible, we will send you a complete set of guidelines and instructions to follow. Please check your spam folder in case our emails end up there. Thank you!
https://www.surveymonkey.com/objectscan

Memory Transcription Subject: PFC Alus, Yotul auxiliary to the UN Spaceborne Infantry
Date [standardized human time]: March 3\**^rd 2137, 1000 hours ship-time
After Gutierrez showed me to our compartment, and I dropped off my duffelbags, he began leading me to the Armory, where I would be assigned my rifle and 'sensitive items' as he put it. As we walked, my mind churned with more questions.
"Hey, uh, Guts. Back in the supply compartment, you mentioned the 'USMC'? That's the American Marines right? I thought you were UN Spaceborne infantry."
"Yeah, so, I am a Marine. Marine to the core. But Earth sorta got thrown into this whole clusterfuck without having a properly unified military, and instead of trying to set up a whole new service from scratch, they got the big five on the Security Council, being us, the Brits, the French, the Chinese, and the Russkis, to pitch in units. So you got Marines and Army making up the American portion of the SI, and Navy and Airforce making up our part of the fleet. Same for every country that pitched in, even some outside the UNSC." Gutierrez explained, his hands moving about animatedly. "Right now it's a hot mess because none of the standards, paperwork, or anything changed, but I guess they'll probably formalize and standardize the SI and Fleet after all this shit is done. All we currently got that's the same is rifles, uniforms, and equipment. The traditions and paperwork and shit are all wildly different from one countries units to another, and sometimes even within the same country's units because of different branches. The US Marines and US Army for instance, we share a lot of the same shit you know, but our low-level paperwork is branch-specific, and our organization is different."
I thought for a moment about what he was saying as we walked though the passageways, pondering on the idea of what a truly united Human military could accomplish, if everything Humanity had done so far was with a truly thrown-together force. As I looked up again, I saw we were approaching the armory, and mentally filed my next question away for later. We crossed through the threshold, and I found myself standing in front of a grated window, another Human on the other side.
"Sarn't Johnson, I'd like you to meet our new Yotul auxiliary, Alus. We're doing inprocessing, and need to get his weapon and equipment drawn and assigned."
The new Human looked down at me curiously and smiled, before reaching down and grabbing a few sheets of paper from under his desk.
"Alright" the Sergeant said, before moving deeper into the armory, stopping at a weapons cage, before unlocking it and inspecting the rifles line up inside "So, what are we billeting him as?"
"Just an 0311, needs a rifleman's kit and associated gear" Guts replied, leaning forward to watch the Sergeant.
"Gotcha. Just gimme a minute here."
Guts and I watched as the Armorer pulled a cart over, and picked out a rifle, laying it down on the cart, and locking the cage, before moving to the next rack and removing a small black bag, repeating the process along the line of cages across one wall of the armory, before coming back to the front, and pressing a button on his desk. I heard a click from a door next to the grated portal, and Gutierrez waved for me to follow him through the door, and into the armory.
The Sergeant had sat back down, and was poring over what appeared to be a checklist as he inspected each piece of equipment, ticking them off down the list one by one. When he was done, he clipped it to a clipboard, and handed it off to Gutierrez, before looking toward me.
"So, Heard you fellas went through some sorta training dirtside, so you should be familiar with at least the rifle?" He asked, picking up a notably shorter version of the standard UN rifle I had qualified on Earth with.
"Yes, ours were longer, it kinda seemed like they weren't really meant for non-Humans to use. We could all barely aim them shooting, uh, offhand I think it was?"
"Yeah, sounds about right for an indoc unit. The M-36 is a piston gun so it's good bit heavier out front than the old M-16's the Corps used to issue way back, Mag in the back kinda balances the whole shebang on the carbine variants" he slapped the side of the firearm he was holding "But on the full length rifles they're just ungodly long barrels. Ay, Guts, something like a 28-inch heavy barrel on the old M-36A1's?"
"Yeah, something stupid like that," Guts said, looking up from the paperwork he had been signing, as he set it down on the table. "Marines wanted a gun that was the same length or shorter than an M-16, Piston, and could reach out to like 800 meters with 5.56. I think Bushmaster pulled out some old relic from the 20th century and just modernized it? I remember the K&M lawsuit right when we started getting the A1's back in 2130, but yeah."
The sergeant nodded and turned back to me, pointing at the firearm again "So, when the Corps finally removed their head from their fifth point of contact-"
"Their ass" Gutierrez helpfully interjected, grinning
"Yes, But anyways, They saw some issues with going back to a full size rifle, and got carbines made to replace the A1's for combat arms. Shorter barrel, shorter gas system, shorter receiver, way lighter out front. Super nice shooting guns to boot. Bushmaster also sold them on this neat quick-change barrel system they thought up too, so now we have a bunch of smoothbore barrels for flechettes, rifled barrels for traditional ammunition, pencil barrels for riflemen, heavy barrels with bipods for autoriflemen, in a bunch of different lengths. These fuckers are modular as hell."
The sergeant had what was probably the widest grin I'd ever seen on a Human as he finished talking, and it very nearly took me aback, despite the Yotul, myself included, not having the same issues with Human mannerisms as the wider Federation.
"I-I'm not gonna have to carry all of those, right?" I asked, hesitantly, and Gutierrez broke out laughing, while the sergeant suppressed a chuckle.
"Nah kid, we just pick a rifle and swap the barrel to the one you need for what you're doing. Mostly just makes shit easier on my end really. You're just getting a carbine-length pencil barrel, lightest of the bunch."
The Sergeant shifted, bringing the rifle to his shoulder, and pointed it at a canted barrel, sticking the muzzle in, and pulled back the charging handle, sticking a finger into the rifle's ejection port, before looking in, and releasing the charging handle, before pulling the trigger with a 'click'. He then held out the rifle for me, and I took it, surprised at how much lighter it was than the one I had been issued in training.
"So, one M-36A2." the Sergeant said, before pulling a metal cylinder from a small pouch, and peering through it up at one of the lights, before getting up and grabbing a metal rod, and walking over to me. He stood alongside me, and slipped the cylinder over the muzzle of the rifle, before inserting the rod down the barrel, and peering closely at a small gap around the rod.
"And one suppressor. Clears the rod check so that shouldn't give you any issues. Guts should be able to explain the adjustable piston to you so you don't get gassed in the face while you're using it." With a quick twist of a collar on the back of the tube, the armorer pulled the device off the muzzle and stuck it back in it's pouch, and picked up a larger cloth case. He pulled something that looked like a visor on an articulating arm from it, and inserted a pair of batteries into a cylinder that ran along the top.
"This here is the AN/PVS-101 'Fused vision system'. Little heads up display that links up with the rest of your fireteam, and also has thermal and Infrared overlay. Just a fuckin' neat piece of kit honestly. Datalink is hardened to all hell, and the whole system's idiot-proof. I've seen ones that pre-date the Satellite Wars. Uses an accelerometer and gyro system to keep track of where you are in the area, and can pulse lidar to give you visuals in full pitch-black. You can also mark obstacles, enemy troops, vics, whatever with eye-clicks, and the system keeps track and spreads that out to all the linked systems. Plus there's a version that goes to the fireteam leader, which transmits all that collated data back to company level, and gives them an up-to-date picture of everything that's going on. Just honestly fuckin' cool."
He then held up a square plate on the back of the arm to his forehead, and withdrew a small box from the back and touched it to the back of his head.
"The FVS mounts to the socket on the front of your helmet, and the Processing unit just mounts to the rear, acts like a counterweight too which keeps your neck from hurting nearly as much while you're using it."
Placing both items back in the cloth bag, He finally held up what was obviously a handheld radio, and a set of earmuffs.
"This is the AN/PRC-255. It's a radio, and might as well work with Angry Pixies. I know it's got a 60 mile range, and hops frequencies, and the Comms nerds have some kind of black magic ritual to make them work. The hearing protection doesn't have some letter-and-number name, but they hook up to the radio, and they'll also link up to other headsets nearby like the FVS to communicate without radio. The Radio isn't nearly as impressive as the FVS, and the hearing protection hasn't changed in a meaningful way in about a hundred years. 3M is the Browning of comms gear, I swear. And, that's petty much it."
I looked at the neat pile of equipment sitting next to the carbine, and looked down at my hands, realizing I had nothing to carry any of it with, before looking up at Gutierrez.
"Is it alright if you carry some of this, I don't think I can carry it a-" I said, before I was cut off by laughter from Sgt Johnson.
"Nooooooo, no kid." The sergeant said, wiping tears from his eyes. "This all stays here unless you actually imminently need it. It's assigned to you now, but it stays under lock and key." he explained, while Gutierrez seemed to look simultaneously aghast and about to burst into laughter. My abbreviated training had failed to explain a few things, it seemed, as I had simply assumed that they had locked up our equipment because we were were trainees.
"See, everything in here is either VERY killy, or VERY expensive. And Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines around Earth all have a penchant for shenanigans, and breaking anything they touch. Occasionally themselves too, if left entirely unsupervised with dangerous objects. So we don't let any of you have things which can be described as 'Killy', 'Expensive', or 'Killy and Expensive' unless it's specifically pertaining to the task at hand, Rah?"
"I, uh, see yeah. Rah?" I replied, somewhat dejectedly, and slightly confused.
"Rah." The Sergeant said in reply, and began to load all of the 'Killy and expensive' equipment back onto the metal cart, chuckling to himself still, as Gutierrez tapped me on the shoulder.
"Hey, chow's in about an hour, let's get you back to the barracks so you can get your OCUU's on, and outta those class-B's right?"
"Yeah, that sounds good, I don't think I've eaten since before I arrived at the Orbital, I'm starving" I said, as I followed the Spaceborne Infantry Marine out of the Armory's door, and back down the passageway to the berthing areas of Grunt Country.

Took my road test today and thought I could leave this here for anyone that takes it in the future Since I haven’t seen too many recent posts on it.
Head check and signal every turn regardless of bike lane or lane change or if you’re in the parking lot they are really really picky about this and will not hesitate to nick you for it
Don’t stress the parallel park section as they take you to a relatively wide spot to park in as long as you’re not driving a 6 wheeler diesel truck you will be perfectly fine
When coming out the parking lot the first stop sign is up a hill where u can barely see the line , lean forward in ur car and when you see the line over the horizon stop fully and then inch forward, it feels odd but my instructor told me that spot alone gets 80% of people 5 points off before you even leave the lot.
STOP FULLY. They are so so picky about this and will fail you instantly (I learned this the hard way the first time I took last month)
The route they take you on can consist of anywhere from 2 intersections to 6 intersections be comfortable with them before you come here as they will do their best to try and throw you off
Similarly they will take you to a 4 way road but not an intersection and ask you to take an odd left or odd right to see how you react. Just treat it like a normal road and all will be well
For people with backup cameras when reversing into a spot do not look at the cam first or you will get 5 points for relying on backup camera , go in a cycle of look backwards > rear view > side mirrors > camera > repeat. And you will be fine
Don’t stress it too much I know some instructors have more strict and less strict views on things but as long as you keep to the book you will be perfectly okay
Stop behind the line every time and inch forward or else you will get points
Final part just come with a good attitude and don’t overthink it, overthinking creates mistakes. At the end of the day it’s just a test to see if you’re able to drive safely and if you fail ( 53% of people fail first try) that’s okay! There’s always next time and it just means you have a little bit to work on. I wish you all luck

Hi all! I’ve been searching for a Celica GT-S 7th gen for awhile. About 7 years ago I owned an 2004 WRX. Test drove a 2011 WRX last year and it was okay, but not as fun as I hoped. Now, a clean Celica GT-S popped up a few hour drive away.
1) Hoping to get some feedback and price and the car. I’ve tried to research as best as I can. I’ll be looking at this next Tueaday and paid the owners a small fee to hold it for me till then. Seem like really nice people.
2) I just want a good reliable car to drive that is nice to look at and fun. How will it compare to a WRX? For the $10k asking price I wonder if I should consider a WRX or Miata. Though clean WRXs are also hard to find, and perhaps the Celica will be more unique and fun.
Asking price: 10k (talked on the phone and they seem firm)
Specs - Clean title - 2002 GT-S - Manual 6 speed - 95k miles - No accidents (Clean VIN report) - Factory action package - Factory Silver - Stock except short ram intake - 2 owners (current owners are older folks, original owner put 35k miles on, current owners 60k miles since 2017) - Garage kept - Paint looks good (will determine paint and rust in person) - Leather seats w/ side airbags (side airbags are important to me) - Interior is in good condition w/ original stereo - Two interesting features I haven’t seen elsewhere: 2 sets of fog lights and 1 rear bumper light right under the lift gate, looks clean) - Comes with original wheels (poor condition) and new set of wheels
The car also comes with different Lotus badges and random Lotus flare. I’ve done extensive research to figure out if it was ever a thing that Lotus tuned a Celica, apparently the dealership 7 years ago told the current owners that Lotus made 50 of them. Sounds kinda hokey. I’ve found all the badges online for sale. Interestingly ChatGPT did say something about Lotus doing a special edition Celica, but my research seems inconclusive other than that. I don’t care much about the Lotus badges, I think someone just paid tribute to the Elise, doesn’t add or detract for me. Would be cool if it was tuned.
I may plan to do the ECU swap if I get it. Overall I really want a clean GT-S. I’m willing to pay for one, but does it seem a little high? Most GT-S I find are either trashed, or they’re still asking $8k and they’ve got $120k miles and not as clean as this one.

“Ready to make history, baby?”
I looked over toward Sheila as she stood on the gangplank leading up to The Burger. I still couldn’t believe she named our research ship ‘The Burger’... emotional relevance be damned.
“It's not exactly history,” I corrected.
“Oh come on! If your survey is right, this trench might run even deeper than the Challenger Deep, and you’re gonna be the first person to explore it! How is that not exciting?”
“Might be deeper, we only have a limited amount of topological data. And even if it is deeper, we’re talking only a few hundred feet at most, it’s really not that im-”
Sheila silenced me with a kiss.
“Nerd.” She teased, and I found myself too flustered to reply. After five years of marriage, she still could leave me speechless with just a kiss. God… how did someone like me end up with a woman like that?
Then again, how did someone like me end up where I was in general? It was honestly a little overwhelming. Standing on the dock, getting ready to board that ship and join the ranks of Jacques Piccard and James Cameron (yes, that James Cameron) as one of the few people to take a manned submersible down to the deepest parts of the ocean. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared too. Diving down that deep could easily be a one way trip if even the slightest thing went wrong. My submarine would be experiencing between 600 to 1100 atmospheres of pressure and while we’d tested it over and over again to make sure it would actually be up for the challenge, there was still a lingering iota of doubt in the back of my mind. All that needed to go wrong was one little thing, and that would be it for me.
The scariest part is that I probably wouldn’t even know what had happened… I’d simply be gone… and Sheila would be alone. The thought of that caused a momentary spike of panic in my chest that almost made me want to call this whole thing off.
Almost.
But, then I felt her hand close around mine. I looked up into her bright blue eyes, and saw her gentle smile.
“You’re gonna be okay, hun,” She promised. “You and your team have been running the numbers, right? It’s gonna go just fine!”
I nodded slowly.
“It’s gonna go fine…” I repeated, before she leaned in to kiss me, and gently pulled me by the wrist up onto the deck of the Burger.
She was probably right.
It probably would be fine.
Probably…
The trench I’d be exploring was a fairly recent discovery, located south of Greenland, in a vast stretch of water situated directly between Newfoundland and Iceland. It’d been uncovered during a topological survey in the area, and my team had taken an interest in investigating it further. At minimum, it was believed to descend to about 35,000 feet deep (over 10,000 meters), although the current theory was that it might have run even deeper. Determining the exact depth of the yet unnamed chasm was just one of the intents of our dive. The rest was studying the organisms that might be found down there, and how they might have differed from the ones found in other deep ocean trenches (some variation being expected given the isolated environment they were developing in.)
I had to admit, it would be exciting to see what new life might have developed in a place such as this, especially if it ran even deeper than our predictions… and that excitement was enough to make me chase the fear of the risks out of my mind, even if it was only briefly. While Sheila went to make sure we were ready to embark, I caught myself wandering out toward the rear of the ship where my submarine, The Tempura, waited for me. Did this submarine deserve a better name than The Tempura? Probably. But, this was my project, so I got to name it and since Burger was already taken, Tempura was the next best name I had. I liked to think that the subs namesake might approve… if she hadn’t died fifteen years ago. Shrimp don’t live very long.
As the ship began to depart, I caught myself reminiscing on how I’d ended up here… it really was all because of those damn shrimp, wasn’t it? Well… maybe not all because of the shrimp. But they were certainly part of it. Back when I was a lot younger, I never really gave much of a shit about anything at all. I guess I did have a thing for the ocean… the great, romantic vastness of it. The sense of adventure that it beckoned with. The endless mysteries that lay within its dark depths. I used to read about it all the time when I was a kid and I especially loved the classic adventures: Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and Melville’s Moby Dick… but that love was just confined to my books. I didn’t really have any interest in actually going out and seeing the ocean. Hell, the idea of going to a beach and standing in the sun with my toes in the sand seemed miserable to me. I was happier (although calling myself happy might’ve been a little disingenuous) alone in my room, enjoying the company of books as opposed to people.
Then came the shrimp.
One of my online friends kept them as a hobby. He used to post pictures of his tanks all the time, and I always thought they looked kinda cool. He said that if I was interested in them, I should try keeping some for myself, and during a particularly bad bout of depression, I figured that maybe it might be worth a shot. So, I bought a cheap tank and some cheap decorations, bought myself some shrimp… and promptly watched them die over the next few weeks. That… that bothered me. I don’t know why but… it really bothered me. I’m still not entirely sure how to describe what it was that I was feeling. Guilt? Defeat? Shame? Here I was, trying to set up a habitat for these creatures just to have something to do to keep the suicidal ideation at bay, and I’d failed almost right out of the gate.
Was I just that bad? Was I just that much of a failure? Was this just going to go to shit just like everything else in my life did, because I was just such an abysmal piece of shit who barely deserved the life she had? Had I just not tried hard enough? Was I too apathetic? What had happened? What went wrong?
It bothered me.
It bothered me enough that I made up my mind to just dump the remaining shrimp down the toilet and toss everything. Forget about it. Move on. End of story. But… that wasn’t fair, was it? The shrimp didn’t all deserve to die just because I couldn’t be bothered, did they? Sure, they were just shrimp, but they were alive too, just like me. They deserved to be alive.
I owed it to them to try and keep them alive, didn’t I?
So… I didn’t dump the shrimp.
Instead, I started doing some reading. Started looking into what I was doing wrong and how to do it all better. I actually got really into it and a few months later, I had a nice planted tank. Looking back, it was amateur shit… but it made me happy. I’d even picked out names for my two favorite shrimp. Burger and Tempura. They’d been the last survivors of my original batch, and they were the ones I ended up caring about the most. Caring for Burger and Tempura gave me a purpose. It became an obsession… and that little obsession drove me to finally start turning my life around.
Like I said, shrimp don’t live for very long. Burger and Tempura were long dead by the time I graduated with a degree in Marine Biology. But they were the ones who inspired me to finally get my life in order. Hell, the shrimp were half the reason that I met Sheila. She was something of an aquarium fanatic too… we’d met on a forum, and gotten to talking. I found out that she just so happened to be studying Marine Biology at another school, and we bonded pretty quickly after that. After graduation, I moved to California to be with her and after that, the rest is history. She was my rock. She was the one who always pushed me to be the best possible version of myself… and I loved her more than I ever knew I could love someone.
A glance back at the shore, fading into the distance tore me out of my reminiscing, and I shifted my focus to the present, going over The Tempura to perform some quick checks. My colleagues and I would be checking and rechecking the submarine over the next two days as we made our way toward the dive spot. Considering the danger that descending that deep posed, I didn’t want to take a single unnecessary risk.
I had too much to live for, after all.
***
The day of the dive, I couldn’t notice how excited the rest of the crew seemed… well… Sheila’s usual crew seemed excited. I guess to them, this was just another research expedition, no different than the ones Sheila usually took this ship out on. Lately her research had been focused on the analysis and study of whale calls. Her recent voyages had involved following their pods, recording their calls and playing them back to see how the whales reacted. It was fascinating stuff, but my research was admittedly a lot different than that.
My obsession had drawn me to the denizens of the deep sea. I’d used The Burger for expeditions before, although none of them had been on quite the same scale as this one. Up until today, the most ambitious thing I’d done was send down unmanned submersibles with cameras. Those submersibles had typically returned. We had lost a few early on due to technical glitches, but the past few years had been blissfully uneventful. Logically, this dive would probably be uneventful as well. But it was still hard to get the jitters out of my head.
My team and I did the final checks necessary to make sure that The Tempura was good to go, before setting up the crane to begin lifting it up. In less than an hour, I’d be inside of that thing, descending to the darkest depths of the ocean.
It didn’t feel real.
I felt Sheila’s hand on my shoulder, and looked over at her.
“Moment of truth, huh?” She asked. She probably meant it to sound encouraging, but it just sounded ominous.
“Moment of truth…” I replied.
“You’re gonna be okay, honey. I know you will.”
She reached out to gently squeeze my hand and gave me a reassuring smile that I meekly returned.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be okay,” I agreed, although there was an element of a lie in it. Statistically, yes. It probably WOULD be okay. But there was that lingering anxiety in the back of my mind that just wouldn’t go away. I looked quietly out at the submarine before me and couldn’t shake the thought that it sort of looked like a giant coffin. Unconsciously, I found myself squeezing Sheila’s hand tighter than normal. She just held me close and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, before gently rubbing my back.
“You’ll be okay,” She promised.
“Dr. Jenner, we’re ready for you.” I heard one of my colleagues say.
Moment of truth.
I took one last look at Sheila, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips for luck. She smiled at me, and I smiled back anxiously at her before heading over toward the submarine.
The crew helped me enter the cockpit and get myself situated inside. The cockpit of the Tempura was fairly cramped and not particularly comfortable. Space and comfort aren’t really luxuries you can afford in a submarine like this. The instruments I needed took up a lot of space, leaving little room for me in there… and I am not a very big person.
Once I was inside, they sealed the hatch. Then the diagnostics checks began.
“Grayson, can you hear us in there?” I heard Sheila say through the radio.
“Loud and clear,” I replied.
“Great. We’ll keep in constant radio contact, just to monitor the signal. In the meanwhile, how’s everything looking in there?”
“Green across the board so far,” I said, although I hadn’t finished running all my final checks yet. Ultimately, nothing was out of place.
This submarine was as good to go as it was going to get.
“I’m all good in here,” I said once I was done. “You can drop me when you’re ready.”
“You got it, honey. Let’s get you in the water, run one final round of tests and start lowering you down.”
A short while later, I felt the submarine begin to move as the crane lifted it off the deck and lowered it into the water. The Tempura honestly resembled its namesake in a way, being long and cigar shaped, only vertically oriented instead of horizontally oriented. We’d admittedly taken more than a few design cues from James Cameron’s Deepsea Challenger. Why fix what isn’t broken, after all?
Once I was in the water, a 1000 pound releasable ballast weight would cause the submarine to sink. Releasing that weight was also my ticket back to the surface, and I could either trigger it from inside the cockpit, or, in the event that the release failed for any reason, it would trigger automatically after roughly 12 hours of exposure to salt water.
Ideally, this would be the first of a number of dives I’d be undertaking… and if all went according to plan, the Tempura could be the first of many similar submarines that would allow other researchers to safely and effectively descend to extreme depths. If all went well, this could be a massive leap forward for researchers like me, allowing us to better explore the deepest depths of the Hadal Zone and learn all we could about the ecosystems down there via direct observation.
If all went well.
If.
Through the viewport, I watched as I was lowered into the ocean. A few of the other crew members had donned diving gear to escort me down, and after they did their final checks and I did mine, we were fully ready to go.
“All’s green across the board,” I said into the radio. “You can start my descent.”
“I hear you, honey,” Sheila replied. “We’re letting you go. Have fun down there.”
“Yeah, I’ll try…” I said quietly as finally, my submarine began its descent.
I took a deep breath, and told myself again that everything would go fine. We had checked everything on this submarine. We’d tested it rigorously. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to set foot inside of it if I hadn’t personally assured that it was safe. But anxiety never really goes away, does it? The crew couldn’t accompany me far. After only a few meters, they fell behind me as I sank deeper and deeper into the infinite, empty blue of the ocean. Soon after, the tether was released.
I was officially on my own.
“60 feet,” I heard Sheila say over the radio. “How are you doing in there?”
“Good,” I replied. “Doing… doing good.”
The submarine continued to descend. Through the viewport, I could see a few stray fish, but nothing particularly eye catching. I almost felt alone down there… almost…
“120 feet…” Sheila said.
“Still doing good,” I replied.
The descent continued, as the waters slowly grew darker and darker.
“400 feet…”
Everything around me just kept getting darker and darker. Only a fraction of the light from the sun ever reached these depths… and I’d be lying if I said that darkness didn’t feel a little… oppressive.
“800 feet… still feeling good?”
“Yeah, still feeling good…” I said, although it was a bit of a lie. If anything, I was second guessing all of this, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“1000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…” I murmured. “I hear you loud and clear.”
Deeper… deeper… deeper.
“1500 feet…”
Three miles. I was three miles away from home. Three miles away from Sheila.
“2000 feet…”
Still a ways to go.
“3000 feet…”
By this point, it was fully dark outside of my cockpit. Outside, all I could see was inky darkness. Even the submarine’s lights didn’t really cut through it. And the kicker? Relatively speaking, I wasn’t that deep. Fishing trawlers reached deeper than this. Better to conserve power until I was at the bottom. My descent continued.
“6000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…”
The check ins were becoming less frequent. My descent still continued… deeper… deeper… deeper. By now, I’d entered the Hadal Zone. But there was still so much deeper o go.
“8000 feet…”
This was past the depths that most whales would dive to… and I still had a ways to go.
“10,000 feet.”
This was close to where the ocean floor usually bottomed out… and yet there was still so much further to go. No. I was really only a third of the way there. How long had it been?Not much had happened beyond my descent and a few sightings out of my viewport, but time had been passing. A glance at my watch confirmed it’d been almost an hour since I’d started to sink… and I knew I wasn’t even close to the bottom yet. The submarine continued to descend, sinking ever deeper as I dropped into an infinite darkness that few had ever dared to witness.
“15,000 feet.”
This check in came later than the others. At this point, Sheila and the crew must have figured that no news was good news, and they were right. I just continued to sink peacefully, down into the crushing depths of the ocean.
These were the depths that one might normally find deep sea fish… and yet I was going somewhere even deeper than that.
“20,000 feet…”
So close…
I continued to sink.
“25,000 feet.”
Soon… and finally…
“30,000 feet. You still doing alright, honey?”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m doing good,” I assured her. I was so close…
By this point, my real work had begun. I’d engaged the lights and begun documenting what little I could see using the on board cameras. Granted, there wasn’t much life at these depths and what little there was, was scarcely documented. Most of what was down here consisted of invertebrates and microscopic life that seemed to float past my viewport.
The light seemed to draw a few creatures in search of food. Small, hardy things that resembled shrimp.
“How’s it looking, Grayson?”
“Dark,” I said, half joking. “We’ve got some life… shrimp. They’re translucent. Can’t get a great look at them… but we’ll see what the cameras pick up.”
“They’ve recognized you as a friend,” Sheila said. I could almost see the smile on her lips as she said it.
“Yeah…” I replied, “Tempura sent them a message, told them I’d be down. How am I looking on depth?”
“35,000 feet… you seeing a bottom yet?”
“No… not that I would until I was there.”
“Damn… how deep does this go?”
“It can’t go that deep…” I murmured, although I really wasn’t so sure about that.
The submarine continued to sink…
36,000 feet…
37,000 feet…
38,000 feet… and then finally, just past the 39,000 foot mark, I finally saw solid ground below me.
Looking through my viewport, I could see a familiar dark brown diatomaceous sludge, covering the seafloor. Microscopic life, likely similar to what had been observed in other deep sea trenches, such as the Challenger Deep.
I needed to gather a sample.
As my submarine reached the bottom, I extended the mechanical arms, pressed flat against the surface of the Tempura, and opened the collection port near the bottom of the ship. Slowly, I sifted some of the sludge into the port. My disturbance of the seafloor kicked up a cloud of the microbial colony, and I could’ve sworn I saw something wiggling through the debris. A pale, white thing, perhaps some sort of sea cucumber? I hastily angled my submarines camera to try and catch a glimpse of it, before returning to my collection. Even in this forlorn place, there was still so much to see! And here I was… completely forgetting my fear as the excitement took hold of me! Few people had ever been down to these unfathomable depths… and yet here I was.
It didn’t feel real but it was! I had reached the deepest part of the ocean!
“How’s it going down there?” I heard Sheila ask. Her voice was a little garbled. The connection down here was faltering.
“It’s beautiful…” I said. “I can’t wait for you to see it!”
“I’ll bet…”
“I’m going to do a sweep of the area, see what samples I can gather,” I said. “What’s my time right now?”
“Three hours. You’ve got nine before your connection to the weight deteriorates and you start to ascend.”
“I’ll make the most of it,” I said. The plan was only to stay down there for six hours, and I didn’t want to push that limit. Life support would only last me for so long, and one little error was all it would take for the ungodly pressure down here to crush me.
I began to move the submarine. Mobility was limited. This thing wasn’t built to travel far. But I still had some limited movement. I recorded all that I could, filming the shrimp that investigated my light, and the things that slithered and crawled through the muck, likely feeding on the carpet of single celled organisms that populated these depths.
The first two hours were… well… I hesitate to call them uneventful, they were actually very fascinating, but little of note happened beyond my recording of a few specimens.
Midway through the third hour though, as I was reaching one of the rock walls of the abyss, I noticed something just above the edge of my viewport swimming away from the light. I could’ve sworn I saw slender, pale tentacles of some sort. Was that a squid? Were there squid down this deep? I wasn’t aware of any species of known squid who could reach these depths… but in this unknown place, what use was the known?
I moved my light and my camera to try and catch another glimpse of it, but whatever it was, it seemed to be gone. Maybe I’d see another one. I still had plenty of time.
“You made a noise. What’d you see?” Sheila asked.
“Something big… I think,” I said.
“Down there? Like a fish?”
“Squid. You wouldn’t find any vertebrates down this deep… the pressure would crush their bones.”
“Jeez…”
I didn’t reply to that, still searching for the thing I’d seen. I shone my light up along the walls of the chasm and angled my camera up as far as it would go. I could see a few volcanic vents, spewing dark clouds into the darkness, and more diatoms. But not much else. Strange invertebrates crawled along the walls. Small creatures, no bigger than an inch long. Related to isopods, perhaps? If I could collect one as a sample, I would have… although taking any of those back to the surface would surely kill them. They were built to live under the impossible pressure of these depths. Taking them to the surface would rip them apart.
I went back to my research, and it wasn’t long until I saw something in the darkness, just on the edge of where my flashlight reached. Trailing white tendrils, snaking their way through the darkness. My eyes narrowed as I moved the submarine forward, trying to catch whatever it was in the light. I saw the shape move, its body turning… I saw its tendrils unfurling. Whatever this was, it was big. It was almost as big as The Tempura… although it was also slender. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was looking at some sort of floating debris, but this far down? No. And debris wouldn’t move like that.
This had to be a deepsea squid… or perhaps some other type of cephalopod? Something that preyed upon the various invertebrates down here, perhaps? It seemed to float, just out of sight for a bit, as I tried to get closer. I angled up my light to get a better look at it. The light seemed to shine through it, like some sort of ghost… but I did manage to get a look at it.
Although that look…
That single look made me freeze up.
This things slender tendrils certainly resembled a cephalopod of some sort, but the rest of it… the rest of it looked like something else entirely. Its body was thin, emaciated and translucent, yet despite that it still had characteristics that almost seemed… human. It wasn’t human! Not by any stretch of imagination, but the resemblance was there. It almost reminded me of an exhibit I’d seen in a museum once, depicting a preserved, fully removed human nervous system. I could see a similar shape in its translucent body. Its head seemed almost human as well… albeit with no eyes, and a lamprey like mouth I could only describe as fleshy yet crablike.
Still, despite having no eyes I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was looking at me. And that was when I felt something hit the submarine.
I felt a sudden jolt of panic in my chest. For a moment, I thought that the pressure had started to crush me, but no… no, everything was still fine. Something had just hit me. But what? It didn’t take long before I got my answer.
Another pale creature floated past my viewport, swirling gracefully in the cold dark waters. I watched it for a moment with wide eyes, before noticing its ‘head’ turning slightly toward me. Then, almost instantly, it launched itself at the submarine, darting toward me with blinding speed.
I heard a distinct THUD as its body collided with me, and I could see its pale tendrils pressing against the viewport, twisting and writhing violently. It was trying to attack me. The first creature that I’d seen lunged as well, pounding on my submarine with another THUD. And moments later, I could hear more impacts against the hull. There were more of them… and they did not like having me down there.
“What’s going on?” Sheila asked.
“Somebody doesn’t like me…” I said. “One of the animals down here… some kind of squid, it’s just started attacking the hull.”
“How bad is the damage?”
“Not sure… could be nothing, could be-”
I felt the submarine shake as I tried to move it. The thrusters that pushed me forward weren't responding. Had something gotten caught in it? One of the creatures perhaps?
“Grayson?!” Sheila asked.
“Lost propulsion…” I said. “Fuck… I can’t move.”
“Then drop the weight and come up!”
“No, it’s fine, there’s no other damage, I can still use the port and starboard thrusters to-”
“Grayson!”
I paused. There was genuine panic in her voice… enough to make me realize that even if these things stood little chance of actually breaching the hull, taking the risk would be a fatal mistake.
“I’m on my way up…” I finally said, before reaching out to disengage the ballast weights.
Immediately, I felt myself beginning to rise, although the tentacles clinging to my viewport didn’t disappear.
“We’ve got you…” Sheila said. “Rising up to 38,000 feet.”
The submarine continued to rise, but the creatures clinging to me went nowhere. In fact… I was sure I could see more of them. More pale shapes coming up through the darkness, and these ones filled me with dread. I thought I had been looking at some sort of eerie undiscovered life. But seeing what was coming up toward me now… I knew that I was looking at so much more. The creatures swimming up toward me through the darkness carried weapons… makeshift stone spears and daggers. Primitive tools… but tools all the same.
Signs that these were more than just undiscovered animals.
Much. Much more.
The word: ‘Mermaids’ crossed through my mind, but these were something far different than the ones I’d heard of in folklore. These looked like they’d swam out of the depths of hell itself. Boneless pale tendrils reached for me… and they were getting closer. The pale shapes reached my submarine as I rose higher. I kept praying to whatever God may be listening that the dropping pressure would force them off. The air in a submarine is pressurized, so during normal operation, there should have been no danger of decompression sickness for me.
For them… well… normally I’d feel a little guilty about subjecting an undiscovered species of deep sea mermaids to the horrors of the Bends. But given my circumstances, I didn’t have a lot of other options.
They didn’t let go, though.
They should have. But they didn’t.
What were these things?
I saw a splayed hand press against my viewport. Or… it somewhat resembled a hand. It had suckers on it, like a tentacle and the ‘fingers’ curled open like tentacles. The creature crawled over my viewport, clinging to The Tempura as it rose, and I could see the folds of its crablike mouth opening and pressing against the glass. I could see some sort of bile rising up through its translucent throat, before it secreted it all over my viewport. Was it trying to digest me? Was that how these things fed? How strong were its stomach acids? Were they strong enough to-
The window cracked.
My heart skipped a beat.
“No… no, no no…”
“Grayson, what’s wrong?!”
“They cracked the window… S-Sheila they… oh God… oh fuck, they just…”
“THEY DID WHAT?”
“It’s secreting some sort of enzyme… it’s on the window, it’s… FUCK… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die…”
“You’re not gonna die, baby! Just… just keep ascending, okay? You’re at 30,000 feet… just keep going…”
I nodded, and kept on rising, although the question of whether or not the rest of the creatures were trying to digest the other parts of my submarine floated through my mind. How much damage could The Tempura take before it imploded? How much longer did I have? The submarine still continued to rise… 25,000 feet… almost halfway home… almost… almost.
The creature outside of my viewport slithered along the glass, searching for a better area to try and digest. Past him, I noticed a few of his companions dropping off. Maybe the change in pressure finally was getting to them?
From the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed a flashing light. A warning. The hydraulics on one of the Tempura’s arms were shot… what else was damaged?
I checked my oxygen levels. 32%.
I should’ve had at least 14 hours of air. I’d only been down there for about 6 hours… I shouldn’t have been this low.
31%.
No… no, no, no, no… they’d damaged the air tanks!
30%.
29%
“20,000 feet!” Sheila said. “You still with me, baby?”
“Y-yeah…” I said. I didn’t mention my air situation. I didn’t need to worry her further.
The submarine continued its ascent.
15,000 feet.
24%. I was running out of time.
The creatures still clung to the Tempura. How had the pressure change not killed them yet? My oxygen was dropping faster than before. I was hemorrhaging air. Another crack formed across my viewport. I let out a little, involuntary gasp before trying to force myself to stop hyperventilating.
“Grayson, what was that?”
“I-it’s fine…” I stammered, “It’s fine!”
“Grayson what the hell is going on down there?!”
“They’re still on the submarine… they’re still…” I paused, looking at my oxygen levels. “19%...”
“19% of what? Grayson what’s going on!”
I paused.
18%.
“Air… I’m… I’m losing air…”
“That’s fine, you’re going to make it!” She said, although I heard her voice cracking a little. “You’re gonna make it!”
I didn’t answer.
12,000 feet.
11,000 feet…
My oxygen level continued to drop.
15%.
14%.
12%.
9,000 feet.
The creatures still clung to me, as the submarine continued to rise. The one on my viewport was still there, slowly crawling along the glass again. I stared into its eyeless face and swore I was looking at the face of my killer.
7,000 feet…
Oxygen had dropped to 9%. It dropped to 8% before I even got to 6,000 feet. I was going to die here…
The viewport cracked again and I squeezed my eyes shut. The submarine rocked. I was sure one of the thrusters had been damaged. My ascent slowed.
“Grayson, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry Sheila…”
Another crack spread across my viewport.
“I’m… I’m not making it back up…”
“YES YOU ARE!”
“I’m sorry…” The tears started to come as the reality of my death became clearer and clearer… this was it.
“YOU’RE COMING BACK UP, YOU HEAR ME! GODDAMNIT, I’LL BRING YOU BACK UP!”
“I love you…”
That creatures face pressed against the glass. It vomited more of its stomach acid onto the cracked glass, and I wondered if this might finally be what broke it. Part of me hoped it would be… the one good thing about dying this deep was that at least I’d die quickly. My suffering would be over. Then, the creature suddenly pulled back, twisting and writhing violently. I saw other shapes moving past it in the water, other ‘mermaids’ that had been clinging to the submarine.
Something was agitating them.
Something was scaring them off.
Then I heard it, over the radio… whale songs.
“What the hell…?”
“Grayson, are you still there?!”
“I… they’re finally breaking off. Sheila, what did you do?”
“I’m broadcasting some of the orca recordings we’ve been using. Are they still clinging to you?”
“No! They’re backing off! I… whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
The submarine kept rising.
5,000 feet.
4,000 feet.
4% oxygen.
I could still do this, right?
The submarine continued to rise.
3%.
3,000 feet.
2,000 feet.
2%.
1,000 feet… so close… I was so close…
I could almost see the surface through my viewport, rushing up toward me. I tried not to breathe. Tried not to move. All I did was hope.
500 feet.
I closed my eyes.
“Grayson we have your signal, we’re coming to pick you up!”
Sheila’s voice sounded so far away as my submarine finally breached the surface of the water… and with the last of my strength, I pulled the emergency release on the hatch, and threw it open, taking in lungful after lungful of fresh salty air.
I didn’t dare so much as touch the water beneath me… but I was topside again, and in the distance, I could see The Burger!
“We see you!” Sheila said, “We’ve got you baby… we’ve got you…”
“I see you too…” I said through the tears. “Thank you… thank you…” I didn’t have any words left in me after that.
As soon as I was back on the ship, I collapsed into Sheila’s arms, breaking down into tears as I clung to her, terrified that at any moment, some sort of unspoken other shoe would drop and I’d lose her all over again.
“Shh… it’s alright baby… I’ve got you… you’re safe… you’re safe…” I felt her fingers running through my air and I knew that what she said was true.
I was home.
I was safe.
***
I left my colleagues to review the data that the Tempura gathered during its short expedition. As far as I know, they haven’t published anything. I have a few ideas as to why, but I’ll keep those to myself. Let’s just say that some people would rather this information not become public.
I have a feeling that the Tempura may not be diving again for some time, if ever. I will confess that I do consider that a bit of a shame. Despite everything… I would consider it a success. It endured far more stressful conditions than I had expected, and from what I heard, required fewer repairs than I’d thought it would. But, even if it was approved for another dive, it wouldn’t be me piloting it. No. I will never be setting foot inside of that machine again, nor will I ever be returning to what my colleagues have been quietly referring to as ‘The Jenner Trench’.
I can’t.
Every night, I wake up crying after dreaming of pale shapes outside of my cracked viewport, clinging to Sheila and sobbing. I can’t put myself in that situation again.
I can’t.
Instead, I think I’m going to spend the next few years on solid ground. There’s a teaching position available at a local university. I think that might be the best place for me right now. Who knows, maybe I can help some other deadbeat discover a passion for marine biology.
After everything, my love for the sea remains unchanged… I’m just a little more wary of it, these days.

[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]

Hey all, I just put tubeless tape and valves on my road bike wheels (Bontrager Affinity Disc), but I find I'm losing 8 PSI exactly in both tires over the course of a day. So far the longest I've gone without pumping it is 2 days, and both the tires still had only lost 8 PSI.
I'm using 30mm Vittoria Rubino tubeless ready tires pumped to~60psi
Not sure if this is a problem or not? My MTB tires lose about 4 per tire overnight, but stay at that level even if I leave the tires sit for a long time.
Do the road tires simply lose a bit more pressure because they have less volume more pressure than the mountain bike tires?
At first after setup, I was losing like 20 PSI a night from the tires, which I KNEW was way too much.
So I dunked them in the bathtub and saw bubbles coming from the valve stem and from one of the spokes. I tightened the valve nut on both tires and sloshed some more sealant around the spokes that were leaking, and now I can't see any more bubbles when I put the tires in.
So I'm not sure if the air loss is a problem or not, and how I would even go about fixing it other than ripping off all the tape and retaining.
BTW I only did one pass of tubeless tape, and I overlapped about 2-3 inches on both tires.
EDIT: Is forgot to mention that I am riding the front tire at 58 PSI, and the rear at 60 PSI.
From significant research on this topic, it seems that the skinnier the tire and the higher the pressure, a bit more PSI loss might be normal, but for wider tires/MTB/gravel, they should only be losing about 2-5 PSI a night.
Can anyone confirm this pseudo science? There does not seem to be a definitive consensus on Reddit or the internet in general as to how much PSI loss is normal from tubeless tires. Probably because it varies so much between tires.

Space Dogs Of Zeta 9 Mini chapter 1
Written by Pixel/Rat
NoP belongs to Space paladin
Fallout belongs to Bethesda
Memory transcript: Ziak, Farsul Technical Archivist
Date: August 12th, 2275 local [human time]
Local ship time: 10:00 [time of early light and work]
Human weapon catalog: “Energy Light Rifle”
Ziak clutched his head as the Predator energy rifle laid on a mounting in front of him, the damned gun didn't just make no sense, the fact it worked was a insult to federation weapons technology itself.

As Ziak let out a defeated whine the sound of the heavy security door opened as Ziaks partner and friend M'aiq entered holding two cups of steaming Gojid Mohi tea and a plate of warmed Venlil Strayu, something the crew had stocked up on in excess due to there extended mission. M'aiq noticed his whining companion and approached him. “Ziak? Is something wrong? You've been working on that new predator weapon we acquired from the last capture, is something wrong?” His companions' sudden speech made the lanky Farsul yap in surprise and let out a low frustrated growl before noticing the morning meal his friend had fetched for the two, eagerly taking the tea and taking a few long sips of the potent stimulant. 

“Oh i can find many things wrong with this damned laser weapon if i can even call it that to begin with” he growled smacking the remarkably durable yet blocky thing with a spiteful paw, it did little but make it wobble a bit on its perch.

“Oh? What have you learned while i grabbed us what was left of morning meal?” his curious companion asked as Ziak growled. “For one, it has no internal moving components, the ONLY moving pieces on this are the trigger, and the battery release, everything else is closer to an archaic laser drive than a weapon!, i mean, its a laser magnetron firing into a compression array, farsul engineering students in primary make these in basic astrometric engineering and somehow not only do predators have the technology, but theyve weaponized it” Ziak spat indignatly as his companion nodded, Ziak taking a sip of his tea and a nibble of Strayu as M’aiq pondered the weapon quizzically, i twas a matte green and gunmetal weapon with its main…body? A simple rectangular cube. “Well…i cant imagine the weapon is all that powerful, it is just a laser after all, we have lasers, mostly used for mining or point defense on space stations or planetary outposts and they cant even effect civilian energy shielding.” Ziak simple stood up, picked up the bulky rifle that took him a short time to adjust to the in-farsul design and pulled its trigger, without warming a sharp CHOOM was heard as a bright red, near white beam of searing light is heard burning the air in the ship as it hit and burned through an aluminum target located in the lab, the laser was not just pinpoint accurate with no recoil but it was STRONG, able to flash cook 8 inches of aluminum and another 4 inches of solid federation steel. M'aiq jaw dropped “HOLY SMEG” M’aiq shouted and ran over to the still glowing target in shock. “How, how could they get THAT much energy into a laser that small?!” Ziak sighed and pressed a lever on the side of the gun and released the bright, nearly fluorescent yellow, fat cylindrical battery from the side of the laser weapons rear. “I had the computer analyze the components of this battery…its a small nuclear fission battery, y’know, like the kinds our warships use as emergency power?” Those words struck M'aiq, although Ziak knew his friend lacked that kind of specific knowledge. “Wait aren't those kinda…..really big?” M’aiq asked quizzically and with a twinge of fear as Zaik let out a sigh of frustration. “There twelve tons on average and are typically housed in a easily ejectable section of a ship, this battery is about….75 percent as potent as that, the other twenty five is compensated by a advanced and complex magnetic confinement system that….that's more advanced than anything i've seen and its just so CONFUSING” 

The Farsul growled in frustration, tossing the weapon back to the mounting where the emergency containment field kicked in, catching the gun in zero gravity and gently placing it back down onto the pedestal.

“Its lens array is just a inferred fused silica compound and babies first laser magnatron, but the high powered electro magnets and battery capacitors are so advanced and powerful that it makes the best federation tech in comparison look like, LIKE” Ziak looked like he was about to explode as M’iaq interjected “Hey hey, maybe this is just….some tribal weapon? Something slap dashed together out of spare parts?” M’iaq questioned as Ziak seemed to try and compose himself and lets out a deep aggravated sigh. “It isnt….when we interrogated the predator about it he said the weapon was of ‘pre-war’ design and had actually been fabricated recently by some weapon smith a part of his war tribe, the “Enclave” or whatever, and its STANDARD ISSUE!” he howled in frustration and contempt “I even did a micron scan of the thing! There are SERIAL NUMBERS, I even cross referenced it with some of the other Laser light guns we captured and they MATCHED which means not only are these things being produced but that predator was telling the truth!” Ziak, now dejected, smacked his muzzle into the table. “So…what does that mean?” M’iaq asked as Ziak looked up frustrated at his friend and colleague “I means M'aiq” he said coldy and with clear frustration “That these humans can produce weapons that can reduce any federation armored vehicle to molten slag with a few volleys….lets be grateful these things aren't automatic, ancestors shield us if these damned predators figure out what a PULSE LASER is….” 

im so happy that im getting ppl interested in my weird crossover fic, and for all the helpfull feedback im getting! dont worry the girls will be breaking out soon
edit, im so sorry i ended up having to repost this due to a error with the title -_-;
Previous
First

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

So just went and tested out a 2024 Traverse. Overall, the side body and rear are not too different than the prior model. The front end is more boxy and the z71 is supposed to have a 2” lift and bigger wheels and tires. Overall, I can say it has those Chevy luxuries and the one I test drove had all the bells and whistles. It was very nice inside. The digital dash was really cool and the infotainment screen is top notch. I had the worst time trying to find the equalizer to adjust the sound. The Bose sound system delivered. I felt the treble was a bit understated and there was a little bit of quality loss when the volume went up. AC cooled down relatively quickly. The Kia EV9 is far faster in cooling if you ever check that out. The drive: final verdict is a C+. Unfortunately, the engine is loud inside the cabin and it seems like it revs to high rpm but not much torque at all. It’s huffin and puffin but we’re barely passing 35mph. At higher speeds, the sound is less but for city driving, it was a lot of noise and the steering wheel is extremely thick so you cant steer like with your fingers without really having to work on steering. It’s a tough steer. Too loud and too weak an engine. I found the Pilot (less expensive) and Grand Highlander to have better drive quality. I will say that the Traverse was smooth to ride in and absorbed a lot of the bumps with ease. If you are ok with an engine that sounds like it will die on a big hill but offer a smooth ride, go for it. Interior was really nice.

Curious if I were to add a 2 inch lift kit to my 2024 Model Y would it ‘ruin’ daily driving on highways? I live on a farm and have some opportunities to go off road but not every day.

I am looking to lease with the plan to buy when the lease is done. I am looking at Honda Passport or Pilot, or a Toyota 4Runner. The 4Runner is my dream car, mostly for the look of them because I love how rugged but classy they look, and the roll down rear window is unique.
I like my CR-V but I only had 1 child when I bought it, now I have 3 (2 in carseats). I have zero room for day to day, and we camp with a bulky gear setup all through the summer. I don't need the third row, but wouldn't mind it being available, because as it stands I can't bring anyone else in my car without leaving my teen at home. Cargo space is my main concern. Open to any suggestions for what I should consider in the low 40k range. Reliability & low maintenance are a must... my old Subaru traumatized me with repair costs.
FWIW- before the CR-V I had an outback, and I far preferred the way that drove, if that has any bearing on recommendations.

Great feedback history so buy with confidence. Ship to lower48 states (open to shipping internationally and to AK & HI, please ask). Paypal friends & family preferred or add 3% for Paypal goods & services fee. Just let me know which items you’d like and I’ll check the least expensive UPS and USPS tracked shipping. All sales are final. Thanks for looking!
*** Waterproof Breathable Pants **\*
1) Men’s Mammut Waterproof Breathable Stretch Schoeller Pants for winter hiking, skiing, snowshoeing, climbing and mountaineering, Men’s 34-38 waist, never worn, $159 shipped (sold for $349 + tax) - Mammut makes some of the best outdoor pants in the world, with a fantastic cut that really moves with you. These Men’s Mammut Castor pants have the stretch comfort and toughness of a soft shell with the waterproof breathable membrane of a hardshell, and built-in internal gaiters and reinforced wear areas. They are great for winter hiking, snowshoeing, climbing, mountaineering and skiing. Two zipped front pockets, one zipped rear pocket, zipped mesh thigh vents, belt loops, snap zip fly, mesh lining, reinforced cuffs to protect against metal-edge skis, crampons and snowshoes, internal gaiters to stop snow from getting in your boots, zippered ankle openings with velcro closures. Absolutely bullet-proof pants. Fits Men’s waist 34-38 in. thanks to awesome stretch in the Schoeller stretch fabric. https://www.trailspace.com/geamammut/castor-pants/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/YjKvQVK
2) Women’s Mammut Waterproof Breathable Stretch Schoeller Pants for winter hiking, skiing, snowshoeing, climbing and mountaineering, EU Women’s size 38 (US W’s Size 6-8), never worn, $149 shipped (sold for $349 + Tax) - See description above. Two zipped front pockets, one zipped rear pocket, zipped mesh thigh vents, belt loops, snap zip fly, mesh lining, reinforced cuffs to protect against metal-edge skis, crampons and snowshoes, internal gaiters to stop snow from getting in your boots, zippered ankle openings with velcro closures. Absolutely bullet-proof pants. Size is EU 38 Petite, but pants are sized for great coverage and long enough that they should fit regular inseam too. https://www.trailspace.com/geamammut/castor-pants/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/kYE1kkD
*** Ultralight Snowshoes (buy now and save over next winter) **\*
3) Northern Lites Elite Snowshoes 25 in., Red with Gray Decking, New, $175 (Regularly $234.95 + tax) Northern Lites are the lightest and fastest to hike in snowshoes, thanks to the ultralight materials and rounded frame. NL’s are a favorite of snowshoe racers. https://northernlites.com/products/elite?variant=29843534512210 Photos: https://imgur.com/a/a3P0B37
4) Northern Lites Tundra 33 in. snowshoe with new Speed Spin bindings, New, $199 (Regularly $274.95 + tax) The new Speed Spin bindings are super fast, adjust in seconds in one quick turn of a knob instead of pulling and securing multiple straps one at a time. https://northernlites.com/products/tundra Photos: https://imgur.com/a/yUCtsLW
*** GAITERS **\*
5) Hillsound Super Armadillo Nano Gaiter, Small, New, $79 (Regularly $104.95 + shipping) - Top-notch gaiter with thermoregulation and self-cleaning embedded in the upper section. Material adjusts to your temperature - keeps you warm or cools you off as needed and no water or dirt gets absorbed by the material. Lower section which is abrasion and slash/puncture-resistant. Both sections are waterproof and breathable. Keep out snow, slush, rain, mud, scree, rocks, debris and dust and save your lower legs from brushy conditions. For mountaineering, backpacking, snowshoeing and hunting. Built to last and covered by a limited lifetime warranty. Photos: https://imgur.com/a/9gIO1QG https://hillsound.com/products/super-armadillo-nano
**\* HEADLAMPS *** Photos: https://imgur.com/a/Mnrxp1w
6) FENIX HP25R Max 1000 Lumens 187 Meters High Output Rechargeable Headlamp with Neutral White Floodlight and Far-Reaching Spotlight, $59 (Regularly $102 + tax). Super bright headlamp with massive light throw. New, taken out of the box for a moment for a demo. There’s a tear in one corner of the cardboard box (which you wouldn’t keep anyway). External battery chamber on back of band for balanced weight. https://www.fenixlighting.com/products/fenix-hp25r-rechargeable-headlamp
7) COAST FL75R Rechargeable Headlamp Kit, New $45 (Regularly $59.99 + tax and shipping) - Up to 530 lumens brightness, 511 ft range, with adjustable focusing beam from bulls-eye spot to wide flood. Comes with both rechargeable battery up to 500 charges and 3 Duracells AAA. Note that though this is new in the plastic see-through package, I can see that one of the included duracells in the plastic package leaked (these are in a separate compartment in the plastic blister package, not in the headlamp, and do not affect the headlamp at all). https://coastportland.com/collections/headlamps/products/fl75r
8) Fenix E16 Portable, High Performance 700 lumen EDC Flashlight, New, $25(Regularly $39.95 + tax and shipping) - 700 lumen, 5 Modes, 16340 or CR123A battery.
9) Petzl eLite Ultralight Emergency Headlight & Signal Device, Pair, Never Used, only $20 for both (retailed for double the price) - includes adjustable headband and protective cases, many light settings including white, red, steady and blinking.
**\* HIKING CRAMPONS FOR TRACTION ON ICE & STEEP GRASS SLOPES *** Photos: https://imgur.com/a/ZbSvp4I
10) Hillsound Trail Crampon Hiking and Backpacking Crampon, Small, New, $65 (Regularly $84.95). Later fall, winter and early spring are some of the best hiking times, with so much beauty and lack of crowds. Don’t let lack of traction stop you and avoid injury due to slips. Specs & Size Guide: https://hillsound.com/collections/traction/products/trail-crampon
11) Hillsound Trail Crampon Hiking and Backpacking Crampon, XL, New, $65 (regularly $84.95). Same as above. Specs & Size Guide: https://hillsound.com/collections/traction/products/trail-crampon
12) Hillsound FreeStep 6 Hiking and Backpacking Crampon, Small, New, $52 (regularly $64.95) A slightly less aggressive and lighter crampon than the Trail Crampon above. Specs & Size Guide: https://hillsound.com/collections/traction/products/freesteps6-traction-device
*** MERINO **\*
13) Women’s Medium Merino Long Sleeved Crew, Black, 100% Merino, New, only $39 (Regularly $75 + tax and shipping). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/XuJLsINOdlo of Norway is a top quality Norwegian-founded Swiss-engineered European merino and outerwear maker. Looks sharp on trail, in town and at work. Only 6.3 oz (180g) with tags.
*** Kitchen *** Photos: https://imgur.com/a/TfCHUez
14) FlipFuel Fuel Transfer Device, New, $25 (Regularly $35 + tax) - Save gas from your half-empty canisters, super easy to use, compact and ultralight. https://www.flipfuel.co/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/nY5PQNi
**\* POCKET SURVIVAL PACKS **\*
15) Adventure Medical Kits Doug Ritter Equipped to Survive Pocket Survival Packs, New, $15 each (was $26.99 + tax and shipping) - a collaboration with survival expert Doug Ritter, of Equipped to Survive. Photos: https://imgur.com/a/POeccVT
Thanks for stopping by!

• Author's Note: So! With Book #1 finishing at Issue #61 we now go into Book #2. The situation is changed for our protagonist and he's had it... decently rough, but always had people behind him for help. Wonder how his new position will affect him and his choices? We'll have to wait and see. Enjoy this little snippet to start us off with to the next leg of his journey! Also you can check character art of the Beast World characters or others on my Ko-Fi page! If you enjoy my art, I just opened comissions as well so hit me up if you want to get a piece!

Michael stepped through the dark woods at a slightly above leisure pace. The first rays of the dawn's light haven't yet penetrated the ironclad cover of the forest's canopy. Its thickness held together the shroud of darkness below, only small shreds of it peaking through rarely. Although he knew he walked a familiar path, the reduced visibility made the walk nearly alien, with a stumble here and a trip there, an uncertainty started to seep into Michael's chest even if he didn't know it.
'Alright. It is going to take a bit to get there, but I'll be making it in time. So... daeman. Based on what I know they are just basically pink demons. Ok, ok, ok... I've done this until now on a dime... I just... phew... just gotta do my character research. Yeah... just like theater. Literally it is just theatrics. So... what's a demon? Well if years of playing dnd thought me anything is that they are either feral, unhinged and nuts OR eerily calm, imposing, calculated and scheeming. I did both of those and a demon that can do both is even worse. Just gotta switch between those when it makes sense. Mhmm... so personality wise... basically gotta switch between one of those pointy eared muscle covered hounds and a chihuahua that can actually bite, not just bark.'
While the nervous human revised his 'role', he'd already start to adjust his body language. As if by instinct he'd lift his shoulders and roll them back, his spine popping as he straightened, shoulders relaxing and dropping at ease after that. This move would straighten his posture entirely and push out his ribcage and chest, something his mother drilled into his head over the years as being a confident, yet relaxed posture when done right. He'd straighten his head's posture, from the neck, which nearly made him look like it was positioned up from a downward perspective, requiring him to literally look down upon someone with his eyes. His hands were curled up nearing to fists, yet hung relaxed, as if to show an eager readiness for violence. As a last touch up instead of stepping quietly as he got used to over the years, he'd let his steps announce his presence, as one who's afraid of nothing would.
After traveling a bit over half of the treck towards the river and where the Rock Backs would be situated, there would be a clear sight of lights up ahead in the distance, clearly from torches. Michael would gaze at them with a bit of confusion, but regardless he kept on walking closer and openly. Slowly, three figures would be more visible, one of them turned showing as to either be themselves striped or have brown stripes painted on their back.
Only half a second of hesitation would pass as the human took in a deep breath and he then shouted out. "Ay! You three. You're with the Rock Backs, correct?" He'd say while showing quite the enthusiastic face despite his true feelings of nervousness.
As he had guessed, indeed the trio seemed to be Tuskir and the stripes confirmed their alegiance as expected. The figures turned to face him properly as he shouted in his approach. Once he got a bit closer, one of them that was a bit more upfront huffed a not so pleased snort at him.
"Aye. We were sent ahead to guide ya to our encampment, Daeman." He replied with a clear displeasure to his tone.
Another one of them stood silent as he just glared at Michael, while the third let out a guttural squeal and spat on the ground. "Well? What ya waitin' fer, hellspawn? Pick up the pace and keep yer paws where we can see 'em. Just cause ya struck a deal with Bruyza, it don't mean we gotta like ya."
"Dawww. Isn't this nice? We already seem to be getting along and on the same page. I've a feeling we'll be sharing stories soon while braidin' one another's hair, eh? You'd look good with twin tails." Michael said smirking while looking at the third Tuskir who haf a wilder mane and carried himself in a heavier looking armor than the other two.
The human continued his walk with the trio, but something didn't sit right with him. While they walked, two of the three had put out and discarded their torches. As they walked forward wordlessly, those same two boar men would also position themself to the sides and back of Michael, doing so nearly seemlessly, but not enough for the human not to notice.
While they advanced, Michael would peek at them with the corners of his eyes while also glancing forward at the only one who still had a light source. 'This doesn't feel right. I know for certain we were to meet at the same place as before... am I being paranoid? Alright... think. If they were afraid I'd not show up they'd wait until the time was up and then came to us... there's no reason for them to think I need escorts since I'm supposed to be a big scary strong thing. Eeeeh... why are these shmucks here then?"
Michael started taking into consideration multiple reasons that could be possible for his unexpected escort to be present, but none of them made sense. With his uneasiness building up, he'd sling his backpack off and hold it, quickly getting the attention of the two at the back.
"What do you think yer doin', hellspawn?" One of them asked while putting a hand on an axe hung by his belt.
"Hm? Oh, cut down on that paranoia. Makes you seem pathetic. This meat form I had to take to be here has needs. One of them happens to be water. If you've ever heard of somethin' like that, or... what? Do you milk rocks up in the mountains to sustain yourselves?" Michael would reply with a chuckle as he taunted his escort while starting to rustle objects in his backpack with his hand.
"You... hnngh-..." The Rock Back grunted and huffed as he muttered between clenched teeth.
Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, Michael would feel about and find one of his tiny Woh flask potions and he'd use his fingers to tuck it into the band of his bracer at the wrist, before grasping a hold of a small water skin and pulling it out. 'Heh. Well, I might not be a good slight of hand at pocker, but I didn't learn to hide pieces of paper in my sleeves for nothing. Stressful, but thanks to that I passed chemistry in highschool.' He'd think while smirking at the one of the escort he just antagonized, giving him a double eyebrow wiggle lift up as he took a sip of his water.
"You really like talkin' daeman, or you just like the sound o' your voice?" The armored one asked, who also happened to be the one with the torch at the front. He walked with his back turned at the human, not even trying to gaze back as he spoke.
"Eh. I find conversing with you meat sacks at least a bit intriguing. It is fun to hear what thoughts run through those narrow minds of yours. Why are you asking? Interested in actually entertaining me in conversation?" Michael would reply as he packed his waterskin once more and put his backpack back on.
"Thought ta meself it'd be crazy to converse with somethin' like ya, but then I realized, what da hell, when am I ta get another chance like this?" The Tuskir continued while slowing his pace, as if to let Michael approach to make their talk easier to get into.
The human naturally inched closer bit by bit as he simply walked, his smirk still on his expression. He'd keep vigilent of the two in the back while moving up in the small formation. "Indeed. Perhaps I'll be able to satisfy some of your curio-"
Before he could finish his sentence, the armored tuskir in front of him stopped dead in his tracks, turning with a decently large vial of liquid and herbs in his other hand and he'd splash Michael right in the face. Surprised by the sudden violent spill of liquid against his face, the human would close his eyes and bring his hands to his face to quickly wipe away the liquid. While blinded in this manner, his guard would be shattered as a brutal force would then slam into his right side, making Michael buckle as he got sent rolling in the opposite direction.
"HAHAHA! GOT 'IM GOOD, DIDN' I?!" exclaimed one of the two Tuskir from the back, who was armed with a club, right after he just bashed up the human.
Michael took a half second to realize he just got attacked, with the hand that had the vial hidden against its wrist pushup to his eyes to wipe them, he'd push himself up on the other wobbly like. He was afraid to try and open his eyes, unknowing what he got splashed with so instead he bit on the cork of his poison vial, opened it and stashed it in his cheek, as he dripped the solution on his tongue while wiping his eyes. "I- I can't see-..." he groaned loudly while trying to get his footing.
"Yeah. You got 'im good." The armored tuskir said while tossing the vial aside. "Better prepare yourself fer a sudden departure daeman. We'll make sure ta send ya back to the firey pit ya came from. Hope ya liked a lil' taste o' holy water. Keep ya well on your way back." He'd say while taking a handaxe off of his own belt.
"Hah ha ha... Sadly fer ya, not all o' us are keen on makin' deals with hell filth. Bruyza ain' gonn' be happy with ya missin' but is expected of daemen to be shifty scum, so yer missin' presence will be easy ta explain when we're all... surprised yer missin', he he he... ." The tuskir who Michael antagonized said while snorting and cackling, unsheathing his handaxe at the ready.
The three began closing in on Michael, their gate relaxed as they taunted him, their confidence in having the upperhand letting them ooze with a gloating energy. Michael instead had finally gathered himself, head tilted back as he held onto his face, having just finished the last few drips of the Woh vial.
"I can't see... how you furred fucks didn't think that'd just piss me off." He'd say as his trembling voice would change to one more confident. As he spoke he lowered his head at a way lower angle, pulling his hand down in the same motion to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes, as well as a bloody dripping nose and a wide toothy grin, stained by his own crimson. The shadows on his face would make it seem like he bared his teeth from ear to ear, the expression of the pin point focused eyes, quickly darting to focus on each of the three attackers. Now, that put a stop to their enclosing movement, and this simple shift had changed their confident gloating to a dread filled uncertainty.

I have the following Steeda parts going in my 2024l3 ST Friday

1. Rear diff pinion bushings
2. Subframe Bushing Support Kit
3. Vertical Link Billet Reinforcement Insert
4. Rear Differential Brace
5. Non-Adjustable Rear Toe Links
6. Adjustable Rear Sway Bar End Links
7. Adjustable Front Sway Bar