Mew mew power dress up

It’s a little scattered doing it on my phone. I’ll get home and clean it up. But I want peoples input. I really think this would work and it’s totally realistic. I think CIG needs some guidance and the medical changes offer the perfect moment to add these features in the game.
I have been a developer for years and I can see CIG trying balance what’s realistic and what they promised. Every startup I was with came to a point where they realized their proposals were far too aggressive, and the higher ups would not even listen to ideas unless they were easy to implement.
So, I’ve been trying to come up with ideas that take minimal effort for maximum gains. These are fairly simple, but will add depth or will lay the groundwork for easy future development.
I think this is the perfect topic for my first idea. The medical system is tricky, but so important. Right now, the medical system is boring and doesn’t add much to the game and with a few tweaks it could add 25% more and be a major part imo while feeling more immersive and satisfying both parties. We need to look to other amazing games like Eve online and cyberpunk imo.
The hard-core fans want investment and death to cost. Now that I am older and have a family, I understand how hard it is to balance that in time to play Now that I am older and have a family, I understand how hard it is to balance that and time to play. It’s really hard to get your average gamer to want to invest 30 minutes to simply respawn.
So in my opinion, we need a system that…

1. Makes death inconvenient and costly but with several ways to pay the “bill”, not only costly at that moment so the player decides quitting is easier.
   
2. Makes the game far more immersive and makes the game deeper, not shallower. In real life in the future, in the future, medical would be a vast portion of warfare and finance and exploration and exploitation. Not just a glorified HP counter.
   
3. Makes all medical ships useful and relevant. Cannot have a shallow system where one ship is clearly the best.
   
4. Makes healthcare and biology affect all the other parts of the game…. It is our bodies and minds after all. In the future, the wealthy will modify their bodies, just like their ships.
   
5. Uses a lot of these modules that are currently window dressing, but have amazing application. Things like blood pressure and reflex times and damage reduction and bio scanners and the HUD and incorporates it to a tiered clone system.
   

TLDR is We need a Cyberpunk / Eve style futuristic bio medical system with weapons and implants that completely change a persons capabilities and a jump clone system that reflects this. T5-T1 clones 5 being a throwaway and 1 being a Spartan from Halo. T1 would have the exact HUD we have now with additional systems. T4 and less is like the game in photo mode with nothing. People take for granted how much information you get from the HUD and who would really have access to it?
The beauty of this is while it sounds like a lot and would add 25-50% more careers, economys, gameplay and strategy’s from a gameplay perspective. Its actually not much at all from a development point of view. It would reuse all of the current systems now, and add a few skills like scanning / hacking and weapons like EMP, Darts to humans. Generally, this is how it would work.
T5 clone is a meat bag with a 4 hour life used as a spare tire. It’s the base level. Operated similar to when you’re drunk because The damage from the cryo. You can do stuff, but you are very limited. They can be carried around in 1 SCU containers or special lockers in big ships for dangerous work like reactor repairs etc.
T4 clone is a meatbag the same we are inhabiting right now IRL. Basically this is exactly like you turning off the game hud in photo mode. These cannot be cold stored and reused. No HUD or endgame information input at all outside of your Moby glass watch.
T3 clone is the first of the implants. It can take one implant. Combat might allow thermal vision or the local map and radar and crosshair. Exploration might have the ability to bookmark or see things on your HUD that you scanned from your ship. Conversation might add elements to charisma and talking people into doing things, getting better prices on goods, or hearing rumors about opportunities, etc. Covert allow you to scan people and check their inventory and run checks on who they are, what crimes they have committed, etc.
Basically it’s a stripped down version of the hud that’s active all the time even without helmets. It has to work in tandem with your mobi. You have to select one element.
T2 clone has upgraded reflexes, can run longer, survive more dmg and has the complete HUD suite. It has the bandwidth and upgrades to support 1 implant and 1 physical modification. Everything CIG has been adding can be added to the HUD but you have to switch between exploration, combat, conversation, covert etc. 1 physiological mod or weapon. Like a brain hacking chip that can open ship doors, and emp that shut down all electronics in a 20 m radius for 15 seconds or a drone or fiber optics camera. Then there are all the illegal modifications like hidden blades, Multi launchers with everything from neurotoxin to EMP darts.
T1 clone is very costly and made for combat and for solo explorers who need complete autonomy. 20% more hp, and basically 20% better everything. It has the complete HUD with the ability to Connect to the data stream of two ships in your party. If your buddys ship detect an enemy ship coming in it would pop up in your actual vision as a big red square with information. You would have the ability to zoom without a helmet on and have limited scanning just like your ships function on everything.
It could 2 implants. 1 legal and 1 illegal implant. Emp, Hacker etc
It also has two physical modifications. Blades, darts etc
Also the tier 2 and 1 are the only clones that are not harmed using heavy or power armor. The others are slowly harmed by s by the rapid and jarring servos, etc. so they are all time limited.
Imagine how amazing this would make the universe in general. You would have ripper docs implanting stolen, or military implants. Corpses would now be valuable if they had upgraded organs for implants. People would become targets just for their implants.
If you killed an assassin coming after you, you could take his cool tools.
Sometimes corpses could be worth as much as a ship. You could actually ransom back bodies.
You could have a repo men coming to collect the implants. Organ traders and human traffickers.
But it would also make T1 and 2 ships completely necessary in combat because they were the only ones who could rec clone military units.
Best of all. All of this code is already there. All of the heads up display and all these cool features they’ve been adding Would be the implants themselves.
The game the Way it is it doesn’t make sense that a Moby glass can produce all of this data. It makes the game more immersive as well.
It doesn’t have to be over the top like cyberpunk. But we almost have brain implants now and everything is going wireless, you really think in the future they’re gonna be wearing a wristwatch? Everything will be brain implant and wetware.
With these easy changes, we solve our medical problems and add a ton of depth along with the ability to add as much depth as we want.
All you would need is to create the UI for this, but the game already has a lot of that with its biological scanners. All the balancing could happen by biologically if you’re using implants, etc.
Jump clones would cost a lot of money to make, and healthcare in real life is one of the most expensive things. But just like the hospital doesn’t make you pay your bill the moment you’re out of surgery, we need to spread the cost to a later time.
The time the player needs to respawn is usually after they have already planned and loaded up and executed, but didn’t succeed. This is time where casual players set aside their block of playable hours. (when the kids are asleep and wife is watching something etc) So by making it too costly at that moment, ( 30 minutes to an hour, getting geared up and in ship flying back) your odds are they will just quit, which is not engaging for other players and your odds of a major war or event go down drastically. What’s good for the game and what was so successful in Eve was the fights after the opening.
Instead the front loading all the time investment, Charge 5-25k for the biomaterial. spread the cost of the death to a later time and let them pay off their debt when they log back in.
We also want to make the smaller tier 3 ships necessary while not killing the t1 and 2 beds.

Part 5
Gerard, God
Somewhere in time and space
He watched the passers-by as they moved about, following their daily routines, unaware of the fate that would shortly befall them. This was the time that fascinated Him the most. The moments before they finally understood that The Threat was here.
It was a sort of last hurrah, He thought. They didn't know it, but Gerard could nonetheless sense a sort of joi de vivre, a liveliness that simply didn't exist in prior times, and couldn't possibly exist in future ones. He watched mothers dote lovingly over their children, watched children hurl themselves into play with abandon, watched addicts take in their drugs like a drowning man would gulp for air. They might not known that there was no tomorrow for most of them, but they nonetheless seemed to put just a little bit of extra effort into everything.
Eventually, it came to an end, of course. It always did, no matter how many times He watched it. He saw happiness and mundanity give way to pain and suffering. Laughter was replaced by the screams of the dying. Life was replaced by death. The world replaced by destruction.
He sighed, leaving this timeline. He never watched the arrival of The Threat twice in the same timeline. There was nothing for Him to learn that way. His power was immense and total. He only had to witness The Threat once in each timeline to understand it.
Worst of all was the knowledge. The knowledge that He would only be able to save a single timeline. That all others would fall into ruin, destroyed and left to rot away. Only one could survive; the one that He chose. He could stop The Threat only once, for doing so would require Him to remain. Ever vigilant, ever ready to stop any recurrence.
He had to choose which timeline. That task was less than He feared, for now he knew that there were an infinite number of them. He could choose one with the right qualities, one whose nature would aid Him in His work. He realized then that He would, once He had chosen the proper timeline, finally watch The Threat come twice. Once, when He reviewed that timeline prior to choosing. And again, when He would stop it.
And stop it, He would. No other outcome was acceptable. He had already sacrificed too much. His mortality, His life, His happiness, His very soul itself. He had wrought Himself into a weapon, to strike down The Threat, and He would fulfill that purpose, no matter what.
----
Jerry Williams, Godslayer
Nibiru
We were sharks, swimming and darting among a school of fish. Gods and devas fled, screaming in terror as we flew through the swirling, chaotic energies that should have driven us -or at least my wife and daughter- mad within seconds. They had thought that their realm protected them.
Little did they know, we were already mad.
Inanna and I flanked a group of fleeing gods, preventing them from leaving this world, extending their essence into manifested bodies somewhere in one of the countless material worlds, or simply crossing the energy that was the core of their beings into the Spirit World. Here, in Nibiru, our divinities and demi-divinities gave us access to unlimited power. We seized it and wove nets with which to entrap those minor gods who could not find escape elsewhere, and had huddled here in fear of our coming.
As the group fled, we sped up, curving our course, which caused them to curve theirs, fearful of drawing too close to either of us. We moved slowly, carefully, angling them where we wanted them to go.
It wasn't long before the gaping maw of the Grandfather of the Gods came into view. Ixlublotl, the primordial god, the originator of divinity. The gods we herded realized their peril and turned to flee back the opposite direction, but there they found Aaina, burning towards them, screaming in rage and bristling with offensive energies.
Trapped, they had no choice. They attacked us. Emotions and thoughts, energy and matter, all of it flew at us in an orgy of sudden violence that churned the substrate of this world into a screaming chaos. All three of us linked our magics into a shield; a half-sphere of anti-magic that absorbed their attacks, sending the energy of which they were made back into into the swirling chaos around us.
They threw everything they had at us, a desperate last stand, driven by necessity and panic. All of it crashed against our defenses, the resulting streamers of magic filling the space around us with an all but impenetrable cloud. Hidden by that cloud, Ixy closed in.
By the time they realized that it was too late, it was over.
Ixy's physical body, that cloud-wrapped cacophony of maw-stalks, eye-stalks, spider-like legs and whipping tentacles, currently the size of a skyscraper, swept in, mouths snapping up the energies that were the cores of our quarry.
We came together when it was done. Inanna created a haven for us, allowing us to release the magic that held our bodies in stasis and protected us from the wild magic all around. It was a copy of our house, something she'd come up with a while back and shown to me with great pride. I had loved it, of course.
I sank into the loveseat with Inanna next to me as Aaina took the recliner.
"That's most of them," Aaina said.
"About thirty more," I replied. "And then we can start the next phase."
"Do either of you have any doubts about what we're doing?" she asked. I could see the indecision in her eyes. She was so young, and such a good girl. My heart broke at having dragged her into such dirty business.
"No," Inanna answered, her voice hard and confident.
"Yes," I added. "But at the end of the day, this is what needs doing."
Aaina looked back and forth between us, then nodded. None of us smiled.
----
Emily Windham, Wizard, Artificer
Fremont, Nebraska, at the corner of E 4th Ave and N Main St
Emily turned just in time to see the massive troll hit Jim Carmichael with a shoulder, sending the trooper flying before angling at her with no change in speed.
Acting on pure instinct, she conjured a wall of force between them. The troll slammed into it, shattering the magics that held it together with raw force, but the wall did its job, stopping the warrior in his tracks.
Emily snatched the rune-engraved knife off her belt and surged forward, jumping at the last second to put her in range of the troll's huge neck. The blade plunged in, and she released a quick burst of magic that made her legs and off hand sticky, allowing her to cling to the thing, too close for it to use its battleaxe on her.
She ripped the knife out and plunged it in again and again as the barbarian roared in pain and indignation at being hurt so badly by a foe so tiny. Emily grabbed his beard, yanking hard to bring his eyes to hers as she slammed the knife in and twisted, the magic in the blade telling her when it found his windpipe and carotid artery.
Blood sprayed, coating her face and shoulders. The troll's roars were cut off in a gurgling, breathy hiss. He stumbled, then fell. Emily rode him down, her eyes locked onto his, watching all hopes of victory, or even survival, fade from them. She lost herself in those eyes, in the mystery that was this troll's life, ending right before her. She saw the regrets, the crushed hopes, the shame of defeat and wondered at the context.
The impact as they hit the ground broke the spell.
Emily released the magic and stood up, instincts trained into her by the security troops and war wizards making her search for more threats before she could even process what had just happened. But there were no more threats. That had been the last one.
Greg Ramirez walked towards her, his rifle barrel pointed down, hanging from the sling in front of his armor and all the various attachments that he and the security troops referred to as their 'battle rattle'.
"Nice work," he said, eyeing the troll, who continued to gasp for air, the sound of his labored breaths reminding Emily of a pig squealing. She looked down, searching for that orgasmic feeling her bio-dad had so desperately wanted her to share with him, but not finding it. All she found was a sense of satisfaction, yet even that was too much.
Years of therapy, of telling her story to trained clinicians and listening to and internalizing their advice. All of it had helped her make friends and move among the normal people, but it had never erased that feeling of satisfaction. This was the fourth time she'd killed a sentient being, and each time, she felt the exact same way. It was a victory.
Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the bark of Greg's rifle. The troll's head jerked and deformed, a splattering of blood coming out as a .277 fury round drilled a hole straight through his temples. She glanced up to find Greg still eyeing her.
"You did good," he said, his expression showing some concern.
"I liked it," she said quietly, her eyes turning back.
"You liked killing him?" Greg asked. Emily nodded, wondering if she'd always be fucked up.
"I killed him," Greg said. "And I damn sure liked it."
Emily turned back, eyeing him with some interest. Greg was, in many ways, the opposite of her. Cool, confident, charming and just all-around well-adjusted. She hadn't ever imagined that he wound enjoy something like this.
"It means I won," he explained. "It means that big, badass motherfucker showed up here trying to bully us, and take whatever he wanted from us, and little old me stood up and said 'no', and when he tried to force the issue, I took his life away. It feels like justice. It feels like one less motherfucker trying to kill me and my friends. Damn straight I liked it."
Emily smiled. She didn't realized she had smiled until Greg smiled back.
"I read your psych eval," he went on. "I know you think you're fucked in the head, but I'm gonna tell you right now, you're not. You're a warrior, that's it. Bloodlust isn't a bad thing, if it can be controlled. Enjoying killing isn't a bad thing, if you're killing the people that need killing. Give yourself a break, girl."
He clapped her on the shoulder, then took the back of her head with his free hand and pressed her forehead to his.
"I'm gonna recommend you be allowed to join the war wizard roster. You're all trained up, you're prepared for it, and from what I've seen today, you're a fucking natural."
Without waiting for a response, he let her go and turned away, grabbing the radio fob on his armor and squeezing it.
"Black Lead, this is Black-Two Actual. All raiders at the target site are neutralized. We're commencing a sweep now, will report back in thirty mikes."
Emily smiled at his back as he walked away. A part of her reflected that he was a natural leader, knowing exactly what to say to her in that moment. Another part didn't care, because it worked. She glanced down at the troll again, and didn't see a victim.
She saw a victory.
----
Kathy Evenson, Professional
Somewhere in the ruins of an ancient city in the Seventh World
Kells shifted nervously as Kathy continued to cut chits from the electrical panel lid with the magical laser emerging from her fingertip. He held his machete, really a short sword, in one hand, and his dagger in the other.
"We really shouldn't be much longer, Kath," he said. Kathy had explained to him the difference between Kath and Kathy, and even hinted at the things she'd done while possessed by Pissface and calling herself 'Kath', and even gone into some detail about how much she hated the nickname. Kells hadn't cared. He simply agreed with her, then continued to call her 'Kath'.
And the truth was, she really didn't mind that much.
She wasn't quite sure why, though she could hazard a guess. The man was disarming to a great degree. He presented himself as a dirty wanderer, a simple, violent man who shouldn't be trusted as far as you could throw him. But within just a few minutes of meeting him, she'd seen the intelligence in his eyes and words. She had seen the integrity in his negotiations with her, and the ethics that had turned him protective when the Searchers had appeared.
And despite that protectiveness, he still managed to avoid being patronizing. When she'd told him how she planned to get his chits, he had warned her of the dangers, then agreed to come along without hesitation when she didn't change her mind. Kells was a good man, she thought, and if a good man wanted to call her Kath, she supposed she could let him reclaim the name from the hell it had once represented.
"It won't be much longer," she said. She already had over seven hundred, and this plate would bring her to eight hundred. She only needed five or six more. This deep in the ruins, there was an untouched electrical box on almost every building. Some had been corroded, but most were surprisingly intact.
As she cut the final strip into chits, a roar sounded. It was a gurgling, rasping roar, unlike anything she had ever heard before. Or rather, the first one had been unlike anything she had ever heard before. This was the third time she'd heard it, and it sounded closer than the last two.
"That's no good sign, right thur," Kells said.
Kathy finished, dumping the little squares of galvanized steel into her bag and standing up.
"Come on," she said. "We'll go a couple blocks away from whatever that was before I cut the next one."
"Aye," Kells agreed, his head swiveling on his shoulders as he followed her down the alley. Kathy took note of how spooked he was. He seemed more nervous here than he had with the Searchers right in front of him. She supposed that might have something to do with the nature of the threats. The Searchers were, regardless of power and reputation, mere humans. Whereas whatever was making that roar was clearly some sort of monster.
She led him six blocks in a direction away from the roar before she stopped to examine the buildings. They had moved into a downtown area, which was one of the reasons she had stopped. The buildings here were closer together, which should make the rest of her task quicker. She found a good cover and ripped the little padlock off, then pulled it open and off its hinges.
A mass of spiders rushed out of the electrical box. She jerked her hand away, but they ignored her, scurrying down the wall and vanishing into the cracks between the bricks, safe once again in enclosed darkness.
She began to cut as Kells again stood watch.
She hadn't even made it halfway through the panel when another roar sounded, even closer than the last, and from a different direction.
"Call it," Kells said. "Call it now, Kath. Better ye collect some more later on than deal with the beast makin' them sounds."
"What kind of beast?" Kathy asked. She kept cutting, but glanced up and around, not seeing anything but filthy, dilapidated alleys.
"Walkers, they call 'em," Kells said. "Like great spiders, but rottin' away, with bones stickin' out an' flesh hangin' off th'legs."
"Great spiders?" Kathy asked. "How big?"
"Bigger'n a building."
"You've seen them yourself?" Kathy asked.
"Only once," Kells said, his voice growing quieter. He seemed to be done speaking for a moment, staring around. But after a few seconds, he continued.
"Friend o'mine, name o' Gil. We used t'work together, he an' I. I were real new to runnin' a caravan crew back then, about ten years back. Gil were an old hand at it, though. Took me under 'is wing and taught me th'roads, as it were.
"Anyways, we'd taken a pair o' contracts. Rough ones, with a tight timetable. Merchants needed t'get to Freeman's Port post-haste. One faster'n th'other. Gil took that one, left me with the easier one, though that weren't t'say it were an easy job.
"We was in Craster's Holdfast at th'time, an smack in between there an' Freeman's Port were an ancient ruin. Big one, 'bout the size o' this'un, in fact. Normally, it took about a week t'travel between the two places, but if one were brave or foolhardy enough, they could cut through th'ruins an' make it in five days.
"Well, old Gil had that in mind. We left together, an' at th'place where ye normally would turn north t'go around the ruins, he led his caravan on straight. I prayed fer their safety that night, but never really believed anything would happen. Gil were an experienced caravaner, an' tougher'n anyone else I'd ever met.
"Two days later, we was walkin' this ridgeline north o'the ruins when somethin' called out t'me. Not sure what, exactly. I started lookin' south, scannin' the ruins, an' sure enough, I found Gil's caravan, walking down a wide road between th'largest buildings. They was movin' at quite a clip, I hav'ta say.
"I were tickled pink, at first. Because we'd made near as good a time as they had, despite movin' almost a day's north to skirt th'ruins. But as I watched, I realized that they weren't just travelin', they was runnin'."
Kells sighed, his eyes distant and full of old regrets.
"That's when I saw one. A great Walker, striding out o' th'deepest part o' th'ruins. The way it moved were like nothin' I ever seen before. It crawled along th'sides o' the ruins themselves, like a spider almost, but always with two or three feet on th'ground.
"It came fer th'caravan, and fell on 'em in a slaughter. I watched it breathe fire down on 'em, stompin' men flat with its feet an' scooping 'em up with its great claws."
He sighed again, then looked down. He tucked his sword under his armpit and used his hand to rub his eyes for a moment, before taking the blade up again.
"Killed 'em all, it did. Erry single one, as I live an' breath. An' when it were done, it went around, stompin' th'bodies flat. Never ate one, jes did all it could t'make sure that not a single survivor lived t'tell the tale. I were shook something fierce, I tell ya. Took me own caravan down off the ridge, t'avoid bein' spotted. We ended up arriving a day late, but to this day, I thank me lucky stars we made it at all."
Another sigh came, and Kathy heard the cracks in his voice as he continued on.
"Not Gil, though. Nor any o'them what worked for him, or th'merchant what hired him. A few years later, I worked up th'courage t'take a couple o'men into the ruins, t'find the bodies. I found bones dressed in Gil's clothes. I took his sword, which had survived, an' is th'one I carry to this day. I think Gil'd be pleased to know his blade had saved me life, quite a few times since."
Kathy finished cutting the cover up and stood to put her hands on Kells' shoulder.
"Thank you for telling me that," she said, her voice gentle. "I can tell it's an important story to you."
Kells nodded and sniffed once, then jerked his head in the direction away from the most recent roar. "I still think we should get out o' here, Kath," he said. "I'll face down the Searchers an' be happy o' a good death, should they take me. But them Walkers... They ain't warriors ye can face an' die with honor. One o'them things finds us, there ain't no fightin' it. We jes' die screaming, th'only consolation coming when it's all over."
Kathy weighed his words carefully. Kells knew this world far better than she did. And while she knew her own abilities far better than anyone here, she had to be mindful not to be too arrogant. Kells had told her how a single Walker had slaughtered an entire caravan of experienced fighters, led by an experienced leader.
"Okay," she said. She handed the bag to Kells. "There should be about eight hundred and fifty chits in there. You can count them out later, and I'll trust your count. After I find what I'm looking for, I'll collect the rest and we'll settle up."
"Good call," Kells said. He tied the bag off to his belt and walked to the corner of the building, peeking around. When he was satisfied, he nodded. Kathy joined him, and together, they made a beeline to the edge of the ruins.
They had made it about halfway out when another roar sounded, this one right on top of them. A rumbling crash sounded from her right, and Kathy turned to see rubble falling to the ground as something massive rose off the ground, two blocks over.
"Stars an' stones," Kells swore, then shouted "Run!"

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

https://imgur.com/HOY456m
I'm fairly new to the game, but I really want to learn Gardevoir EX because I like the gameplan. I've been having good results with it so far, both irl and on the online game (I think I have about 55-60% winrate?), but there are things that are still not very clear to me.
1 - What are the best Pokémon to put as active for in my opening hand? Which Pokémon should I go to put on the bench first, other than Gardevoir and Drifloon?
2 - How do you deal with the Charizard EX - Pidgeot EX deck? It's the one I struggle with the most at the moment. I always fail to take him down before he sets up everything, and then Charizard EX always wipes the floor with my team.
3 - I've seen a lot of people who removed Mew EX and Lumineon EX from the deck. Why is that? What should I put in their place?
4 - After I've given Drifloon enough Psychic Embrace ticks and I make him put down an opponent's active Pokémon... Do I just let him die to the next one? Is the only way to do this let him go KO, put another one in his place, and then pick him back with Super Rod?
Thanks in advance for the help!

I'm an enormous DG fan, almost borderline finatic and also a musician myself. I found myself back in 2015 up to today, getting ahold of legally posted bootlegs and just listening over how gilmour changes the way he plays and sings each song note by note, phraze by phraze and just generally fanboying out over songs and playstyles as he went night after night. Its intereasting how he retains a certain over-arching phrase/lick/note relation from either a particular song or songs from the album hes touring and how that slips into the other back cataloug song solos - like a musical marker where you can tell what tour the song was played on but thats me just being a nerd and thats what i find interesting for a tour, as The pipes call has a really resh feel to it and id like to see this new layer applied over old songs as he plays them.
Its interesting reading/listening over the new developments with this upcoming tour on what to expect, the reluctance towards 70's floyd is an interesting turn but then again im a huge DG fan so his reign over floyd on AMLOR and DB are just pure bliss to me so its not a low ball IMO. It seems hes very annoyed with roger at the moment, not from exact words but more or less me reading between lines a bit, with how hes handling things and how things are manifesting, sure little 70's floyd is a little support towards that so im curious what the set list will be like. Im aware of his vocal range and perhaps the very few dates we are all seeing for the tour itself is maybe a sign to his age and abilities physically now, which also play a part of what songs meet the setlist. He said back in 2015 that he and polly sat and listened over every album making notes of what songs they wanted to play so its likly hes going to do the same again. This time though we have more supporting evidence to highlight his strenghts and weaknesses when it comes to vocal and playing ability. A lot of these high vocal range floyd/solo songs are probably not going to meet the tour so it makes me wonder, what will ?
The bootlegs from RTL have shown he has struggled to sing some songs, some more than others and a indications of struggles is his RTL set list which he has said is constructed to tell its own story but i can see its designed to provide as much vocal rest as possible. Rattle that lock (song) was such a vocal killer for him which is why i think it was played in order (5am - RTL - FOS) aka Songs 1, 2 and 3 so it was out the way first rather than played later. Risky but cool that what do you want from me made its way in an early setlist slot which would of really pushed his vocals off as well. I think a lot of people are confusing genuine playing mistakes as a sign of age, for example run like hell, he often bodged the guitar on the main riff, but you can tell with the shades on and the frantic lighting hes just struggling all out just to see what hes doing so little things like that do mask some truths. I am aware of his struggles to play fast as well so that is another factor to take onboard, vocally though he has a suprisingly good range for his age but has lost a lot of power and stamina so i dont think really relentless songs will make the cut, however luck and strange is a first for gilmour in the fact that he has included a cover so perhaps we will see a new for gilmour in the tour as well, which could be that he detunes songs simalar to how roger detuned run like hell on his live shows.
Set list Luck and strange - I think its possible hes going to play the album in full, but that depends on the instrumentation and vocal demand so its 50/50 if he will do it in full like he did with on an island in 06 or just cherry pick like he did with rattle that lock. Assuming hes made the album with live performance in mind, and lets say its going to be played in full
01 - Black Cat
02 - Luck and strange
03 - The Pipers Call
04 - A Single Spark
05 - Vita Brevis
06 - Between Two Points
07 - Dark and Velvet Nights
08 - Sings
09 - Scattered
In relation to rattle, david never plays the opening instrumentals again in tours after so im positive 5am wont feature, RTL will be too vocally demanding and not make the cut. however songs like faces of stone and in any tongue are very open songs for him to play around with, vocally not too demanding at all (assuming his Backing will take the chorus in IAT) and he has the ability to have fun with the solos. DRIFOM requires a orchestra so unless hes performing with one i dont think that or the girl in the yellow dress will feature. the rest I dont think he will take on for various mixture of reasons.
10 - Faces of Stone
11 - In Any Tongue
In relation to island, on an island and the blue are songs hes played on RTL tour, island is an easy vocal song and one he often liked to solo with so im sure that will feature, the blue on the other hand is a song that was very hit and miss on the last tour, the bootlegs made it clear he struggled vocally and guitar wise so its 50/50 but i dont think will be featured. Take a breath, smile and this heaven i think are good picks but I dont think his voice will hold out for them as he struggled with them back in 06. where we start is a very high probability but IMO only to fill out the set list.
12 - On an Island
13 - Where We Start
14 - Take a breathe - (detuned very very unlikly)
in relation to About face, hes never played any since 86 (if i recal correclty) and we know from his interviews about AMLOR that he felt floyd went very 80's with there sound at that point and about face feels exactly the same spectrum sonically so im sure hes got some issues with the sound, but, theres some songs which are good. all of them realistically are pushing his vocal stamina, songs like murder are soft high range to shouty high range which he cant really do, rame for all lovers. realistically Near the End is possible and perhaps out of the blue but i very much doubt that. I get the feeling hed play you know im right but vocally hes going to struggle.
15 - Near the End
I personally dont think we will see any from his first album. unless its an instrumental but id be very VERY suprised. in relation to devision, i think poles appart is quite likly, vocally doable and its a little roger jabb so it might make an apperence. What do you want, a great day, take it back are songs I just dont think hes got the vocal abilities for now. Likly that marooned might appear, coming back to life 50/50, lost for words also 50/50 and high hopes is almost certain.
16 - Marooned
17 - Coming Back to Life
18 - Lost for Words
19 - High Hopes
I dont think we will see anything from a momentry. on top of that I think we will see yes i have ghosts
20 - Yes I have Ghosts
and i think some songs are just set in stone
21 - Wish you were here
22 - Fat old son
23 - Comfortably Numb
I think we are going to see his son and daughter on tour with him this time, and if thats the case its likly we might get some covers as we have seen in the lock down streams as well as maybe an instrumental or two from the endless river.
I know people have high expectations and Ive seen a lot of dream setlists here on this reddit but I really doubt some of these higher vocal and more demanding performance songs will come forward. Given that he usually plays for around 2 hours, its going to be quite mellow I feel with these songs that I think hes going to play. Though I could be totally wrong, Run like Hell back on the rattle tour proved that.
what do you think ?

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

My car's transmission is on the fritz, so it's in the shop and I'm working from home for at least today. Thank goodness I can even work from home, or things would be a lot more complicated. Anyways, that's just a bit of a vent. I've also decided that I might do little lore-esque prechapter bits for some extra flavor. Hope you guys enjoy them! I find them to be fun little thought experiments on how people might perceive the world I've created from within vs from my own perspective. Enjoy some crafting and some romance!
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We know that the spots that are caused by looking at a source of light are, in fact, damage of some sort to the eye. This is confirmed by the spots rapidly disappearing should someone be healed whilst experiencing them. But why? Is there a divinity within light, beyond what our mortal eyes can withstand? Is there some sort of invisible emanation that comes alongside the light that damages us in some way? The discovery of light damaging the eye has opened more questions for me than it has closed.
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.

Hey everyone, so I made a post before that so many of you lovely people responded to with many words of encouragement for moving here. It's my birthday month and something I want to do is try and get as many spider-men/women together out front of my balcony while I blast all of the best Spider-Verse songs (even the classic Spider-Man 3 Toby Maguire dance).
I'm hella shy but something I loved doing last Halloween was throwing beads out dressed as Spider-Man. It was my first time putting that outfit on and I truly felt the great power and responsibility when seeing how all the kids reacted. It warmed my heart that I actually stopped drinking to keep the magic of these kids meeting Spider-Man. There was a specific moment I'll never forget where I finally went to walk into the street and this little boy dressed as Tom Holland Spider-Man was walking with his dad in front of me. I motioned to the dad and he nudged his son to turn around and omg, the way this kids face glowed up was amazing. He kept talking and talking and talking and gave me a big hug and we got a picture. I have no clue what he said but just being a fan my whole life I know it'll be a core memory for him and everyone I met that day as your friendly neighborhood.
So for my birthday month, it would be amazing if any other spider-friends out there would help make some magic.
My plan is this: Friday 5/17 meet out front of the Gumbo Shop at 7pm when it starts to cool down.
IF IT RAINS we will reschedule for: Thursday 5/23 (three days before my actual birthday) at the same location and time.
If permission allows it I may be able to allow a small few come on the balcony to help me throw beads but no guarantee. This is mainly meant to be a fun way to spread magic and fun into the city after festival season as well as celebrate the summer as nerds ✨🤟
Hope this turns out otherwise I'll be there blasting music myself and having fun! If anyone knows of another channel on Reddit I can share this to lmk! 🤟🕷️🕸️
TLDR: My plan is this: Friday 5/17 meet out front of the Gumbo Shop at 7pm when it starts to cool down.
IF IT RAINS we will reschedule for: Thursday 5/23 (three days before my actual birthday) at the same location and time.

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
He was back at Smiley’s taproom with a petite brunette dangling from his arm, the young signal operator whose acquaintance he’d made while assigned as a liaison officer with the Exploratory Corps. There he was, all big and stiff in his brand-new dress uniform, trying desperately to impress someone who was astronomically more attractive than him and making a priceless ass of himself.
“So,” she purred, eyeing him over the rim of her glass, “Tell me again about the surface. What’s it like wandering up there above all us wee mortals?”
“Erm,” Rene cleared his throat, feeling a hot flush creeping up his reddening neck, “It’s, uh, quite remarkable really. Simply fantastic.”
Having run out of things to say, Rene took a snootful of his drink in an attempt to sharpen his wits. It was so hard to focus with her hanging onto his every word like this.
“Ooh, you make it sound so exciting,” Deborah had tittered. Or was it Devorah? Her name had gotten lost in the fumes of fermented honeydew clouding up his brain. Perhaps another sip would jog his memory. Rene downed the horrid swill and coughed as it burned its way down his throat and up his nostrils.
“Would you look at the state of him!” someone guffawed, slapping Rene on the back, “Cool as cucumbers under fire when there’s a hundred dirty Amits breathing down our necks, but prop him up next to a lass and he goes completely to pieces.”
“Ah, piss off,” Rene said fondly. He turned to see Lethway sitting next to him flanked by two buxom blondes, an Amit axe buried deep in his neck.
“I’m only saying. You’ve got to keep your head on your shoulders, man,” Lethway said, as his own tumbled off sideways and hung on by a flap of gristle, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us with our fine lady friends here. It wouldn’t do for you to be sleeping on the job.’
“Why, Lethie my dearest. I’m sure Mr. Louvoture has the…stamina…to keep up,” the brunette said demurely, batting her eyelids at Rene, “Go on. You were telling me about how amazing it is up there.”
“Yes,” Rene puffed out his cheeks and marshalled his scattered thoughts, “It’s like this, see…how can I put it? Words can hardy do it justice.”
“Try me,” Deborah/Devorah said, tugging at his arm with her warm hands. The girl was practically throwing herself at him no matter how badly he was fumbling the ball. Rene my lad, if you don’t make it tonight you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life, Rene thought to himself.
“Alrighty then,” Rene said, deciding to risk everything by gaze deep into her eyes, which if the romance novels were to be believed, were windows into a woman’s soul. She had very pretty irises, all velvety and shining with something bordering on hero-worship.
“When you’re topside and the suns go down beyond the hills, and the clouds weep tears of crimson as the sky rolls over into a bowl of stars holding all the universe above you, it feels like…like…” Rene trailed off.
“What?” she whispered into the hush that had settled over the bar.
“Well, it feels a little like this,” Rene said softly, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips tasted his, the tip of her tongue quivering with longing. She drew him into her embrace, gripping him around the waist and pressing into him.
Awfully forward, these girls from Mound Sierra, Rene thought with some alarm. Not that he was complaining. They spent an eternity entwined like this, the whole taproom cheering and egging them on.
“Woof!” Rene broke away to catch his breath, “Is it me, or is it getting hard to breathe in here?”
“Shut up and kiss me again,” Devorah/Deborah said impatiently, wrapping a leg around his and holding him tight. Rene put a hand on her thigh and found that she was surprisingly hairy for a girl. Feeling a little repulsed at this he tried to peel himself away, but found that he couldn’t move any of his limbs.
“Mmph. Hmmgh!” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her insistent mouth. He cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder at Lethway, who’d just propped his head back up onto its stump.
“Cheers, big fellow!” Lethway tipped a glass in his direction and downed his glass in one gulp, the drink trickling out of him through a large bullet hole in his chest.
“I hate it when that happens,” Lethway said, staring sadly at it. He looked back up at Rene and said: “Oy! What did I tell you about falling asleep on the job. Isn’t it about time you got moving, trooper?”
“Not yet,” Devorah/Deborah sighed, kissing his neck, “First he has to tell me how much he likes my eyes. You do like my eyes, don’t you?”
“Why, of course darling—” Rene began. But then she pulled back to look him in face, and the words curdled and died on his lips.
Gone was the petite brunette in her oh-so-short skirt, replaced by a furry, many-eyed freak with quivering mouthparts. In an instant Smiley’s taproom was torn away to reveal the awful truth of his current circumstances: he was hanging upside down from a tree and caught in monster’s deadly embrace. He was trussed up by his legs which had gone completely numb, and his wrists were bound together by loops of silk that felt as strong as steel chains. Yelling incoherently, Rene started wriggling like a worm on a hook. The creature tightened its hold and pressed its fangs against his throat, delicately avoiding piercing the skin while looking at him through its row of eyes.
It was a warning. Rene wisely heeded it and stopped struggling. After a long moment the monster let him go, although they both continued to dangle upside down. Rene stared at its face in horrid fascination. He saw now that it had four eyes on its flat, squarish face, the centermost pair dwarfing the two ancillary ones on either side of them. In the place of a lower jaw it had four vertical mouthparts, the shorter ones in the middle tipped with curved fangs while the rest functioned like antennae, moving constantly with little taps and clicks, its grotesque head nodding along with them.
Rene thought the motion was reminiscent of a person’s lips as they mumbled, and he had a disturbing suspicion that the monster was trying to talk to him. The fact that he was still alive also lent credence to this theory. After all, if Amits were intelligent lifeforms, why couldn’t this one be as well? Hoping against hope, he stammered out:
“I—I don’t understand. I’m afraid I can’t speak your language. Haven’t got the equipment for it. See?”
Rene bared his teeth at it in a forced smile, tying show it what he meant. But the monster recoiled from him, pushing off the trunk behind him and leaping back some twenty meters away from him. It alighted on a tangle of creeper vines and hung there in all its awful majesty, eyeing Rene through its four unblinking orbs. It had ten appendages including its stubby antennae, each of them ending in a three-clawed hand. Its shoulder and thigh muscles were enormous, though its potbellied torso was as round as a wagon wheel, sporting a disgusting hump of flesh on its back. No doubt it contained even more musculature to support its powerful limbs, which at the moment were bunched up and ready to spring.
He had startled it, Rene realized. His own mouth was probably just as alien and repulsive to its sensibilities as its physiology was to him. Before he could derive some small satisfaction from that, more of the monsters emerged to join the first, darting out of the shadows with an unnatural, jittery motion. They moved in stops and starts, periods of immobility interrupted by burst of blinding speed, here one moment and gone the next.
“It shpeaksh…” Rene heard someone say in a voice somewhere between a dry croak and the gurgling of a water pipe. Rene looked around for the source of the voice and was shocked to find that it was issuing from the largest monster, the one reclining on the vines like some misshapen ape. He couldn’t believe his own ears. It was speaking Fleet cantish, mangling its way through the words somehow despite the total absence of a jawbone.
“Gallivant?” another queried with clearer pronunciation.
“No blade-wing, thish,” the leader clicked its palps thoughtfully, “Too shoft. Too schtupid. Came from the fire giant. Dropped a sheed pod, it did, like a tree in the wind. The sheed shpun a web and floated. Down, down, down.”
“Shoft like a grub,” agreed the smallest monster somewhat belatedly. A frothy substance with the consistency of saliva dripped from its fangs. It took a step towards Rene, stiffening all over. Before he could even blink it had launched itself through the air directly at him. In the same instant the leader also leapt, slamming bodily into its subordinate and throwing it to the ground.
“No,” the leader rasped, letting the other monster limp away having been suitably chastised, “Questions firshht. The fire giant. Are you itsh hatchling?”
It was staring at Rene when it said this. Rene thought quickly. It was a binary question and he felt that his life hung in the balance, the odds being even either way. Heads or tails? From what he’d heard it was clear that the only thing keeping him from lining the stomachs of these monsters was their abiding curiosity. They had witnessed the Divine Engine and his impromptu ejection from it, and they were under the impression that it had been a living thing and that he was its offspring. It followed that the best thing to do was to maintain their interest in him for as long as possible while he thought of an escape plan. Heads it was, then. Rene said:
“Yes. Yes, I am its ‘hatchling’.”
He glanced around until he found his sword where he had left it leaning against the buttress root, still in its sheathe next to the survival kit. If he could just reach down and grasp it in his hands…
“Good,” said the abomination, “And know you the secret of itsh power?”
“Of course,” Rene said, slowly and surreptitiously stretching out his arms, reaching for the sword hilt with all his might.
“Good, good,” the abomination crooned. There was a blur of motion and the leader materialized in front of him, their faces inches apart. It seized him by the hairs and yanked him close.
“Then I, too, will know its inner workingshh. Once I open your head and drink deep from your mind.”
Should have gone with tails, Rene thought as it lunged for him.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

I’m a middle aged professional and I’m trying to dress more Power Bitch, or at least Coastal Socialite, not so much Business Lady. It’s cool here so even now, I need a topper over my dresses and boots. I have worn cardigans into the ground, and blazers make me feel like the vice principal. I’ve even tried arm warmers. Long sleeve shirt under a dress makes me feel like a kindergarten teacher. So far the best thing I’ve got going is a cute white cropped denim jacket, but I need to mix it up. Any ideas?
EDIT: Not outerwear, more like something for a cool office or a breezy day.

Man can't believe it was 18 years ago. I feel so old but somehow I am relieved how SEED Freedom fixed a lot of its mistakes made in Destiny. Now that I think about it here is how I wanted Destiny to end as compared to how it ended.
The fix would start at the end of Shin handing back Stella to Neo. Neo would be forced by Blue Cosmos to be put in the Destroy gundam and she would go on a rampage in Berlin.
But here Kira/Freedom would be forced to fight her but Shin/Impulse being there and pleading to not kill her, Kira being Kira would go all out to destroy the gundam but save the girl. But as he gets out of Freedom to grab her because they both know she would not be safe in BC of ZAFTs hand and as Shinn watches Durandals henchmens would show up and start a fight and Kira not proficient in a physical fight would get hit hard but last minute saved by Shinn who after being Stella executed by those man loses it and escapes with a wounded Kira in Freedom.
Kira is now out of commission, put in a long coma to recover and Shinn is made a deserter. Shinn joins AA crew because he wants to redeem himself and for what Durandal and Co did to Stella. With Kira out Shinn pilots Freedom without ZAFT knowledge but he has tell tale signs and Rey knowing him figures out that its Shinn in Freedom. So after 1 or 2 skirmishes where Shinn barely escapes because not only Freedom hard for him to master but it makes him realize how OP Kira is to manage piloting it flawlessly while him a very good pilot can barely hold it but he is getting used to it.
We then have a 3rd battle where Rey via Impulse triple changes the tactic they used vs Kira/Freedom defeats Shinn and Freedom is lost to save AA with Shinn almost dying. Meanwhile Athrun catches on that Freedom isn't piloted by Kira but Shinn and also discovers Durandal is the baddy. Durandal in recognition of Freedom's defeat gives DestinyF (the Destiny from SEED Freedom not the POS of SEED Destiny; lets call it DestinyF) to Athrun and Legend to Rey and promotes them further but Athrun has enough and escapes with DestinyF. Rey attempts stop him but since both a Nuke powered Athrun escapes. This causes headache for Durandal as none supposed to know they are nuke powered as well and Legend is equivalent in power to Providence.
Athrun escapes back to AA with Destiny. He finds Shinn and Kira. Kira is still out. Athrun decides he has to go to Terminal to Lacus and start fixing shit up. He leaves Destiny to Shinn and points out his flaws to be fixed so that Rey can't figure out that it's Shinn who will be piloting Destiny from now on and act like he is Athrun. Shinn trains hard like he nenver did before to become prolificent in DestinyF.
Meanwhile Durandal fearing that he must not let this golden opportunity to escape starts his Logos wars and on to Destiny project. He also activates the Black Knights his elite core (they would be same as in SEED Freedom just no mind control but having Newtype Flash) who are all Faith members and nearly unstoppable as a group. In short, anywhere they go they cannot be stopped. Mean while he puts Minerva on the hunt for DestinyF that he labels as a terrorist. Shinn starts protecting people but always narrowly escaping the Black Knights and also builds a solid rivalry vs Rey. They basically even themselves out. Oh and the reason Shinn can escape them is because his mirage colloroid allows him to go invisible like Blitz. In one of the fights he captures/rescues Neo and Mew returns to the story like in Destiny. He has to fight Luna, now on Impulse, a few instances and regrets keeping her in the dark.
Kira finally recovers and heads to space to save Lacus who is targeted by Black Knights. Here we have Athrun dealing with them in the Infinite Justice but they are too many for him so Kira launches in Strike Freedom and the appearance of the 2 new MS pushes Black Knights to retreat. Kira whoops ass of the ZAFT fleet following them like before takes Lacus with him and both he and Athrun head to Orb as the battle of Orb starts.
Eventually, we get to ZAFT versus Orb fight. AA reveals itself shocking Minerva to top it off with DestinyF on it and later joined by Strike Freedom and Infinite Justice. The ZAFT fleet on earth gets their ass whooped and Jibril whom they claimed was in Orb actually shows up at Requiem. He was always there. He just used a double to toy with everyone while he prepared Requiem. Lacus showing up at Orb also messes up Durandal's plan and he is forced to reveal all his cards, including the Black Kights that even most ZAFT officers like Izack were unaware.
We now have the final battle. Here Kira and Athrun face and take out the Black Knights. Shinn finally ends Rey via his berserker DestinyF shillouette attack (midless kage bunshin ala Naruto?). Shinn also rescues Luna who on Impulse is used like a pawn by Rey to get upper hand. Akatsuki and Mu get their revenge on Blue Cosmos and Jibril.
Finally we have a confrontation between Lacus Kira Athrun and Durandal a live broadcast of their conversation that entire world gets to view where they uncover all the deceptions. Durandal asks them who is going to take over the throne and responsibilities of ruling the world to which each responds that they are the children of parents who put their burden on them Athrun via Patrick Zala, Lacus via Durandal (a former Clyne factionist who did not follow the ideals of her father, but that her father ignored) and Kira being the Ultimate Coordinator. They won't take power because they never wanted power. They wanted to live in peace and they will work towards that and that's their destiny. Of course Durandal will try a last minute suicidal move only to be shot by Talia who accepts their answer and accepts her own responsibility of letting Durandal's ambition get out of hand.
There is will be one last attempt and Genesis and Shinn will prevent it with DestinyF combining its power with Strike Freedom, Infinite Justice, Akatsuki, even Impulse. In the end the world treats them as heros they are with the truth and not the propagandas that been used since the beginning in their name. The conclusion being that ones Destiny is not determined but one has to take responsibilities for it. Lacus has to lead Plant, Kira has to lead ZAFT with Athrun, Cagali Orb and Mu the Earth Allaince. Shinn goes back to Orb with Luna to lead its military. They all retire from their positions in 5 years after putting structural organizations in place and get to live their lives as they choose.
Not as cheezy I know but I think this would be a better Destiny ending. You get Shinn still as the hero of the story. You get Kira, Athrun, Lacus etc all end their roles without overtaking the lead. You get good capable fights and good MS battles and finally a proper world peace.
What do you think?

Eivor is a bit of a strange protagonist.
She’s basically flawless and without blame. She’s brash and bold, proud and unashamed — brave and wise far beyond her years, yet able to be soft and compassionate when not brandishing spears. She’s got a knack for leadership, a strong moral compass and an even stronger muscular system with which to enact justice.
And she’s got bars?
As someone not deeply versed in medieval European histories, imagine my shock and confusion upon discovering that Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla included rap battling.
My first experience with Flyting had me asking so many questions about what I just witnessed that I couldn’t wait to begin Googling. I figured flyting probably was historically accurate, but if that’s the case, then what else can it tells us about the medieval warrior and about Eivor’s characterization?
I set off to find out.
--
Wikipedia and howstuffworks combined gave me a robust definition of flyting.
A ritual, poetic exchange of insults practiced mainly between the 5th and 16th centuries. Examples of flyting are found throughout Scots, Ancient, Medieval and Modern Celtic, Old English, Middle English and Norse literature involving both historical and mythological figures. The exchanges would become extremely provocative, often involving accusations of cowardice or sexual perversion.
The idea behind flyting was to influence public opinion of the participants and raise both of their profiles. And each participant wanted to make himself look better than the other, even if they were friendly.
Not only that, but flyting’s also the first recorded use of shit as an insult. That right there is worth this whole essay and then some.
--
I came away from those definitions with some small Euphoria, as they reinforce what I already expected from Ubisoft — historically accurate and (arguably) immersive side activities grounded in realism.
Unfortunately, none of the flyting foes that Eivor faces in this fantasy are founded in any real-world flyters. I was particularly frustrated when I realized Fergal the Faceless and Borghild the Alewife’s Bane were fictional features, not real historical fiends of rhythm and rhyme.
Two of Eivor’s syntax competitors are “real” in some sense, however.
In Norse mythos, Odin, Thor, Loki, Freyja and more would handle their Family Matters over a flyte from time to time, dueling wits and words as competition and entertainment.
In fact, one flyte we do see in game — Odin as he flytes over the river with Thor in the Asgard Arc — is likely a reference to a real medieval Norse poem; The Hárbarðsljóð.
In it, Thor jaunts back to Asgard after a journey in Jötunheim. He comes to a junction in which he must jump a large river, and thus hunts down a ferryman to shepherd him across. The ferryman, Hárbarðr, is Odin in disguise. He then begins to diss guys.
Ahem. ‘Guys’ being Thor, obviously.
First, Odin drops a yo-mama joke:

Of thy morning feats art thou proud, but the future thou knowest not wholly; Doleful thine home-coming is: thy mother, me thinks, is dead.

He keeps going, taking more shots than a First Person Shooter, this time saying Thor dresses like a girl:

Three good dwellings methinks, thou hast not; Barefoot thou standest and wearest a beggar’s dress; Not even hose dost thou have.

Thor says watch your mouth before I clap back:

Ill for thee comes thy keenness of tongue, if the water I choose to wade; Louder, I ween, than a wolf thou cryest, if a blow of my hammer thou hast.

Odin replies by saying Thor’s wife is fucking another dude:

Sif has a lover at home, and him shouldst thou meet; More fitting it were on him to put forth thy strength.

The version we play out in game isn’t identical to the real-world poem, but carries some similarities; Thor’s threatening to cross the river to fight Odin as well as his boasting of slaying giants are present in each.
Ratatosk is the only other ‘real’ flyting enemy in Valhalla. While Odin doesn’t flyte with Ratatosk in Norse myth to my knowledge, the flyting against the squirrel is thematically accurate, at least.
Ratatosk’s purpose is to scramble up and down Yggdrasil, scurrying spoken messages from the eagle that sits at its peaks to the snake that slithers at its base. The nature of Ratatosk’s messages is in line with the act of flyting — the mischievous rodent carries falsehoods and aggressive statements to stir up drama and distrust between bird and serpent.
Flyting took place not only in poems and folklore, but in town squares and royal court. It was a facet of medieval life and social interaction. This weaving of prose then, in this time period, seemingly was just about as much of an admired skill as the swinging of a sword. It’s no wonder our unbreakable warrior Eivor is so proficient with word.
--
Like, really proficient with word.
I mean, I know it’s me choosing the dialogue options, but sheesh, is there anything she can’t do?
Actually, Eivor’s expertise in flyting is strange to me. It feels random and unearned — out of character, even. It comes more unexpectedly than Kendrick Lamar’s Not Like Us.
It probably only feels out of character, however, due to our modern understanding of proficiency with words versus proficiency with might. Our current interpretation of verbal ability compared to physical ability would perceive verbal ability as the ‘softer’ of the two skillsets. Physical strength is typically interpreted as tough and more dominant. You don’t expect to see an MMA fighter composing poetry, do you? The qualities that modern thought attributes to writing and physicality don’t mesh.
But in reality — and historically accurately in Valhalla — medieval warriors weren’t just blind berserkers. They were actually artists, poets and writers.
We’ve already demonstrated how Odin and Thor — Norse myth’s most famous warriors — carried out flyting. Thus, medieval Vikings would’ve surely done the same. Beyond Vikings though, the Illiad contains instances of public, ritualized abuse. Taunting songs are present in Inuit culture while Arabic poetry contains a form of flyting called naqa’id. Further, Japanese Samurai were known to be frequent composers of haiku, while Japanese culture also gave birth to Haikai, poetry in which vulgar satire and puns were wielded.
This historical accuracy ends up eliminating the randomness of Eivor’s flyting ability. Despite her verbal finesse feeling unearned, we can surmise historically that Eivor has practiced the wielding of words plenty in her life before we take over as the player. She’s dedicated time to this.
Now that we know why she has it, we can take a closer look at what it does for her.
--
So, Eivor can rap. She can match you with her axe or she can match you with her words. She’s just about unbeatable.
Her mastery of words demonstrates on some level that she’s not all Push Ups and might is right. She’s not all bruiser and bluster, burn and berserk. She’s an appreciator of the finer things — the more abstract, mental skills that require brain power, deftness and finesse.
This duality of strength and genius rounds out Eivor into a deeper, richer, more admirable character. More than just raw muscle in pursuit of glory, Eivor’s mastery of verse demonstrates her prioritizing not just her body, but her mind.
And it goes a long way for her.
Eivor can use her prowess with prose to progress past pointless plot points throughout Valhalla’s plethora of arcs and missions. It’s just a stat check in the end, but with enough practice flyting and enough charisma gained, Eivor unlocks new dialogue options that bend the world around her to her will.
Witch hunters in Eurvicscire on the brink of terrorizing Moira can be dispersed verbally rather than brawled or killed. There’s an entire riddle-solving fetch quest in Wincestre that can be skipped completely by telling King Aelfred’s abbot fuck off (figuratively). Eivor’s sharpening of her mind protects her body, saves her time, and allows her to frictionlessly fell her endeavors.
Her articulate advances don’t just alter her into admirability, they allow her to influence people and progression. With semantics from her mouth and twists from her tongue, Eivor can have her way whenever she wishes. In a game this large, I’m only left longing that the opportunity to make use of this charisma wasn’t relegated to niches.
Regardless, if medieval England is butter, Eivor’s tongue is the hot knife that behooves her move through her subduing more smoothly.
It all just goes to show that ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ flyte is right.

Hi everyone! I'm currently looking for any feedback on the first chapter of my short novel, which has just reached the second draft stage. It's about the main character being forced into eliminating the heads of an island conquered by vampires. The title is referencing a blood moon which remains present only on the island, always draping it in darkness and making it perfect for its inhabitants. I see it as a gothic Suicide Squad with less characters.
Thanks!
The chateau remarked itself as the jewel of the street.
The building rose above its accompanying homes, two stories larger than its nearest neighbours. A grand display of the original owner’s wealth, it now belonged to the vampires, like the rest of Prache. Looking down the street, Hitchforth recognised it from afar, his target for tonight’s mission. He watched stylish vampires enter through the front gate, greeted by ushers at the entrance, checking their invitations. Checking the inner pocket of his greatcoat, he searched for the invitation given to him, satisfied it was there. Hitchforth looked to his left and saw the rookie’s for tonight’s mission checking for his invitation. The rookie searched throughout his body, appearing to have lost the card, but found it before Hitchforth could scold him, offering it to his Educator.
The rookies they gave him rarely survived his missions. Sometimes he thought they were sent as a punishment, a test to see if they could survive. In his old age he had seen countless rookies, forgetting countless names and faces. This one beside him seemed nervous, adjusting his collar, wiping the sweat from his brow, avoiding eye contact with Hitchforth. This one might as well have been sentenced to an execution. What was his name? Anton? Arthur? It wouldn’t matter in the end, but the rookie’s nervousness could jeopardise the mission entirely.
“Tell me,” he said, seriousness in his tone. “Are you afraid of me or the vampires?”
The rookie fidgeted with his fingers before responding, wiping his brow from the new sweat that dripped. “B-b-both, sir.”
“Breathe. Fill your lungs and empty them. Like this.” Hitchforth demonstrated for the rookie, taking extra care to show the slow speed of the action.
The rookie did as instructed, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“It helps?” Hitchforth asked.
“Yes sir,” the words spoken with more clarity and calmness.
“Good, let’s go into the lion’s den then.”

They approached the front entrance, lining up to be ushered in. Carmilla’s festivity had attracted the richest of Prache’s vampires, adorned in foreign jewels and extravagant clothing. The rookie almost slipped on an exceptionally long dress, caught by the cuff by Hitchforth. Looking behind him, he saw the fury in their red eyes, that Humanity’s Hope had been invited. Reaching the usher, Hitchforth handed his and the rookie’s invitations, inspecting the vampire’s face. The slightest twinge of shock showed on his face, but was quickly concealed with a stern, professional demeanour. He waved them both in, shooting a questioning glance as they passed by.
The building appeared larger inside than it was outside, if possible. The minimal red torches fitted on sconces and the amount of vampires fitted into the building helped accentuate its size. A sea of suits and dresses spread throughout its floor, different colours and materials shining in the ambient light. Imported marble made up the floor, dark and white tiles patterned intricately. Large windows draped by exotic curtains furnished the walls throughout the building, paintings spread in between the spaces. Hitchforth could just make out the paintings as portraits, the closest to him being a group of five vampires.
What surprised Hitchforth the most was the sounds that filled his ears. Music played by a orchestra filled the building with the sounds of strings, woodwinds, percussion and brass sections. Pushing past the crowd that had congregated near the front entrance, Hitchforth saw dancing. Vampires dancing in line with their partners to the music, alternating between partners, spinning with arms outstretched.
Behind the dance floor a grand staircase rose from the floor, providing access to the two other stories of the building. It was there that Hitchforth saw the target for tonight’s mission come down the stairs, stopping high enough to be seen, but low enough to be heard. Immediately the orchestra ceased its playing, the dancers also ceasing their dancing. The congregation around the entrance strode to the dance floor, taking Hitchforth and the rookie with them, waiting for her words.
She was tall and deathly beautiful, more civilised and confident than the others. She wore a dark crimson dress, accenting her red eyes and slender face. Her moonlight coloured hair draped straight down past her shoulders, shining despite the lack of light. Her red lips parted into a savage smile, displaying the pointed canines she shared with every member of her race. Hitchforth noticed she looked directly at him, her eyes sizing him as a lion would to its prey. Carmilla Sanguine had arrived.
She spoke to the guests, keeping her eyes on Hitchforth. “Welcome all, to the festivities of tonight. I hold today’s ball as a celebration of our independence as a species, our freedom from humanity.” The guests cheered at the words, delighted at the words. “And please give our warm Prache hospitality to our sanctioned guests of Humanity’s Hope, who have joined us.”
The vampires did not cheer at those words, hushing and hissing silently as they turned to see Hitchforth and the rookie. It was easy to find them, both wearing their issued dark green greatcoats. Hitchforth had refused formal attire for the event for himself and his rookie, knowing they would stand out regardless.
“Enjoy your time tonight and as always, long live our king.”
“Long live our king,” the crowd shouted out in unison, mirroring Carmilla’s words.
Carmilla stepped down the stairs, her guests returning to conversation and dancing. She mingled with her guests, leaving Hitchforth and the rookie alone.
“Sir, what now?” the rookie asked.
“She will come to us, she can’t help herself,” Hitchforth said whilst looking over her watching her conversations. From a distance he could still see the power she held, the fear in the faces of the vampires she held conversations with. From what he had been told, the heads of Prache kept to themselves mostly, only communicating when necessary. The mission would not be hindered by reinforcements, or so he had been told.
Carmilla made her way over to where Hitchforth and the rookie stood, flanked by two bodyguards in suits. She looked over the rookie, smiling and looking into his eyes. Hitchforth saw the rookie smile back, his nervousness gone. Already her mind games had begun.
“Hello, Carmilla,” he said, breaking her eye contact with the rookie.
“Greetings, Educator Hitchforth. And who might this be here?”
“My rookie. You know my name?” Carmilla had come closer to the rookie, stroking his cheek with her hand as Hitchforth spoke. Hitchforth saw the sharp nails on her hand, softly grazing the rookie’s skin.
“Isn’t fresh blood the best? We don’t get a lot of humans here, I’m sure you know.” Carmilla moved her hand away, turning and answering the Educator. “Of course, who doesn’t know the only Lycan Educator in Humanity’s Hope? I’m sure everyone here has smelt it already.”
“Fair enough. Can we talk in a more…,” Hitchforth looked around, noticing most of the guests were paying attention to their conversation. “Private place?”
“Of course, Educator. Allow me to lead the way,” she said, taking hold of the rookie’s hand and walking ahead. Hitchforth stared at him from behind to let go yet he continued, unable to escape her trance. Playing along, he followed Carmilla up the stairs, leaving behind the vampires to dance and socialise below.

Carmilla lead Hitchforth and the rookie up the stairs to the second floor, passing through multiple hallways and doors to reach their destination. The building’s halls and rooms seemed to continue endlessly, doors leading to more doors and longer hallways. They walked down a long staircase, perhaps made for the servants of the building. They walked through a large hallway containing Carmilla’s thralls, lined up against the wall, saluting as she passed. Eventually they reached a cold room with a large table in the centre with a fireplace emitting red flames. Red ash was a new invention created since the vampires had conquered Prache, a harmless light source for their needs. They had invested heavily into the island as their home and Hitchforth knew they would not give it up easily. Looking above the mantle place, Hitchforth noticed the familiar painting from the ballroom.
All the five vampires matched the descriptions he was told, to the point he could recognise them all. At the forefront sat Harrow Sanguine, the self-appointed king of Prache. He looked younger than the rest of his family, his ashen skin painted flawlessly. His fierce eyes stared back into Hitchforth, instilling fear from even his heart. To his right stood his wife, Rose Sanguine, who bore a strong resemblance to Carmilla, matching hair and all. To the king’s left stood Varney Sanguine, wearing his familiar grey suit and matching brown flat cap. Standing next to Varney was Father Nostra, the religious leader of Prache, wearing his black cassock. Finally, standing next to her mother was Carmilla Sanguine, identical to her real life presence.
“Where are we?” Hitchforth asked.
“A meeting room under the chateau. We won’t be disturbed here.”
“And your guests? They won’t be afraid you’ve gone missing?”
Carmilla laughed. “Those fools will be too blood drunk in the morning to remember their past few days. Our meeting will be fine.” She ordered her guards out of the room, instructing them to stay outside, just in case. “The guards will be waiting outside,” she said, warning in her tone.
“What do you want?”
“When my father sanctioned a member of Humanity’s Hope to visit the island, I was surprised they chose you.”
Hitchforth shrugged. “I’m expendable.”
“Yes, they do see you in that way, and that may be so. But I see more.”
Hitchforth furrowed his eyebrows. “Like what?”
“I see opportunity. I see power. I see a new path.”
“Care to explain?”
“You are the only Educator that is not human. On Prache we can give you freedom, like we have achieved.”
Hitchforth thought over what Carmilla said, processing her words. She had to have been desperate to separate him from any prying eyes, eager to keep her plans secret. The only choice was to continue.
“I see. They say a hand that lends help is matched by a hand that waits repayment. What is the repayment you seek from me?”
Carmilla smiled more than she had before, looking more unnatural than she ever had before. Her smile outstretched to the corners of her face and Hitchforth thought he saw her eyes darken lustfully. Not lust for blood, but lust for power. “The crown. With my connections and Humanity’s Hope, we can topple my father’s regime. He is outdated, out of touch with the population’s desires and needs. I can give it to them.”
Hitchforth scoffed at the words. “And you believe Humanity’s Hope is willing to partner with a vampire?”
“They partnered with you didn’t they? I see no difference.”
“I have no partnership. Something much worse.”
“It doesn’t matter. My father is eager to enact revenge for the prosecution vampires have felt for millennia. I am willing to move on.”
Hitchforth looked to the rookie, who had remained silent throughout the conversation. He sweated through his coat, leaving visible stains. The trance Carmilla had put him through had broken, putting her attention to Hitchforth. He could feel the slight strings pulling him in the direction she wanted, appealing to his emotions and desires. He considered over her terms, it made sense to accept the deal. Why would he protect his captors? His mind travelled elsewhere, to a farmhouse and her tending to her flower garden. He thought of her smile, and the little one that accompanied her.
“Do we have a deal? You have no choice either way, Educator,” Carmilla said, snapping Hitchforth back to reality.
He looked to his rookie, signalling under the table to warn him. Hitchforth saw him nod subtly, trying not to give away the motion.
“No,” Hitchforth said, raising the table above his head, smashing it into Carmilla’s body, sending her flying.