Godfather empire free favor

George W. Christians' Second Southern Revolution for Constitutional States, restore the vision of Souther Sociologist trio of George Fitzhugh-Henry Hughes-J.D.B. De Bow, Universal Slavery and destruction of 'indfidel doctrines' of natural libery and the Constitution, expand the Golden Circle to all of America and parts of Africa, possible split of USA into unique Klan puppets, carry out a very peculiar Confederate revival, and much more [including the updated Constitutional States military tree]
Egyptian Election Tree from socdem to pataut, possibility to declare a republic after winning the Desert War, expanded how much you can expand as Egypt, and much more
Various Improvements for Texas, new military tree, unique American Oil States releasable puppets for Texaco, new dem election candidates, and much more
fixed Austria being able to give up Galician states it does not own in the treaty with Russia
added Prince Edward Island and Cape Breton Island as states in Canada
anyone that restores Soviet Russia and is not Russia proper gets access to integration options for former Empire lands etc
fix for bugged bypass for socdem CSA trees for first presidents
improvements to state annexation releases around Siberia
added event for Canada to get Francis 'Peggy' Pegahmagabow and J.R. Stacey as possible generals for Canada
fixed Russia civil war game rule not working
added Paul Carbone as custom French puppet for any Mafia path
fixed socdem Haiti not being able to do the decisions for liberating and uniting Carib if they joined 3I
Ukraine's King's Coalition tree does not disappear if you elect Doroshenko in 2nd term
MAF loses the colonial nation natspirit if it becomes Germany in Exile
peaceout over East Indies now also removes Netherlands from being at war with you if they weren't in any faction yet
fix for Argentina decisions to forcefully join other nations into their alliance after defeating Brazil not firing events
added William J. 'Wild Bill' Donovan as possible Pershing successor and also starting general for New England
fix for a check in Nationalists dissolving Kingdom of Canada event
puppet released Crimea no longer has wrong pathing for portraits
Harlem Totalists cannot do FDR Jr. focus anymore, Bumpy Johnson cannot do 4 normal Mafia focuses
integrated puppets no longer change their status if at war, resulting in removal of troops and occupation from their land
Selling guns to Reichspakt as MAF no longer locks you out of all decisions in that category
hopefully fixed undeletable militias in russian civil war
fix for missing Lebanon coring/war goal in specific cases for Afghanistan
creating Scandinavia/Nordic Federation no longer makes Iceland puppet it if it's a puppet of Denmark
added Ian Fleming as spy for Canada
replaced Raymond Aron in Madagascar with Abraham Schrameck, also added event for him to become puppet of NFA which ai Madagascar if player is NFA will always do
N.S. Derzhavin is now the leader of the Bulgarist path
Kamenev choosing Left SRs to lead the united gov grants you an eco minister properly again
updated game rules for AUS to account for existence of Pendergast, Marland and Pappy
fix for Somalia keeping Siad Barre natspirits after him being removed
added Donald Wandrei as eco minister for Derleth, Roy Disney as eco minister for pataut Disney, and Byambyn Rinchen as hog for marlib Mongolia
getting Soviet Russia as Left Eurasia now skips the civil war military focuses just like peaceful revolutions do
fixed Black Nat NYC not getting cores on Jabal territories in their expansion event
Socialist Russia army ideas do not carry over to other Russias if Soviets did them before being defeated
fix for Wales being able to switch ideologies as puppet under some weird circumstances
releasing Italy as puppet owning all of the peninsula no longer leads to it releasing starting italian tags
Normandy gets properly annexed into Paneuropa in the event for Germany if it exists
Bukovina in its release event is given to Moldova instead of Romania-Wallachia if the former exists as your puppet
fixed dynamic pm portraits [such as starting O'Duffy or Halloween ones] not showing up in diplo view unless you clicked the gui button
fix for Poland not getting Galicia if Austria agreed to sell it after it already federalized
fix for ITA or SRI releasing some places they should keep to core if you gave them to them
Malta doesn't get knights tree unlocked somehow in niche cases if they didn't go for knights
shared BrowdeFoster People's Commissars focus now improves the CIA natspirit you get before
buffed Commune of France, gave new election options like Missak Manouchian, Marcel Cachin, Joseph Paul-Boncouror May Picqueray, allowed socdems to be electable, made Louis Niel starting leader, added later game elections with more unique candidates, added option for Gamelin to restore elections
added Hans Albert von Lettow-Vorbeck as starting general for MAF
Hollywood syndie investigation flavour no longer fires for NE if you are socialist
fix for Ukraine's Czernin agreement having game rules switched in terms of ai behaviour for pro-austria/germany
changed Schleicher to be fm instead of gen, added new trait and bio for Wilhelm II, updated some general bios, added traits for generals being part of Bavarian Army or Schleicher Clique
if Song Zheyuan backed your pro-Manchu coup now Puyi switches to neo-confucianism subideo after it happens
added event for non-radsoc/non-Thorez or Cachin ruled COF to annex puppeted Algeria and core it. You can also create a custom puppet under Albert Camus, Marcel Edmond Naegelen or Belkacem Radjef
added subideos to Estonia and Switzerland
added Lothrop Stoddard to NE game rules
fix for Zimbabwe/South Rhodesia possibly not being releasable in annexation event
Canada also leaves the shared entente research thing after going its own way post-liberation
Lithuanian authdems get natcon subideo now
fix for MAF centralization of particular constituents decisions not being able to be finished
made it so picking Amanullah to use the title king in the flavour event changes the leader gui switcher title
Russian ai should be better at actually passing laws in Duma/Senate
integrated the kr4 unit limit system, taking into consideration population size and factories
possible fix for West Ukraine revolt effects not going away if it fails/is prevented [as in return of Galician cores or dmz removal]
fix for wrong focus specified in Ecuadro's Gran Colombia decisions
decisions to demand Karelia/attack Finland go away after you already won and signed Treaty of Petrograd
buffed Congo Free State's economic tree
Dehousse as post-Degrelle successor now gets soclibs in coalition
added some missing states to Georgia's Transcaucasia coring decisions
fixes for MAF collapsing when it should
fix for independent Galicia joining Poland not giving it cores on all of its states
fix for Karelia demanding Finnish Karelia from Finland
nations that happen to be in Russia's faction that switched to SocRus peacefully do not merge into 3I if Russia picked that option
Black Repatriation for COR dealing with Liberia no longer removes population from Romanian and Hungarian states
fixed requirements for the last Karaite Crimea focus
fix for Japan losing all cores when winning the war against Transamur together with Buryatia
American Nicaragua no longer loses cores on two Nicaragua states, meaning unified CA does not lack them if it conquered AmNic
Capone CSA doesn't lack cores in conquest events on Newfoundland if it exists
buffs for Venice tree
clarified the focus about Revolutionar Isle for Sorelians, since Sorel was for decentralization not cent
banished Royalist Romania tag into the void
switched the leader of Right Reformgruppe until you get the Kaiser from Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck to his nephew Hans Albert, since Paul will be more needed in German service
slightly expanded the 'Our Finest Hour' flavour news event
fix for Rudolf Waden coup not working correctly in Finland
Rehabilitating Bashkimi as Llzar Fundo adds socdems to coalition, getting Fan Noli as leader changes party name for radsocs to Bashkimi
fix for Poland faction invites being sent to non-socialist countries when Poland is socialist
releasing independent Kokand as socialist Russia no longer does stuff with Abkhazia
added more coring options for Yucatan and also game rules for its paths
fix for Garibaldi elections not repeating after end of term
Added coalitions to Alvarado Yucatan
made it so later Irish elections are not mutually exclusive, so you can get other trees unlocked if you elect someone else in 1947
added Mbeya as vp in German East Africa
fixed positions of MAF divisions
when you devolve Britain as radsocs you get Fenner Brockway as leader in England, no longer having double Y Glais in Wales and England
uniting America as Led Sedov's Alaska now gets you the Soviet World cosmetic tag
fix for Finland 1940 election natpops getting Kosola but keeping kingdom cosmetic with no king
Georgia cannot get a monarch in charge after getting puppeted by someone else than Germany, for example Russia
fixed Povstanarmia natspirit for Ukraine in terms of max org factor
electing Solidarists after Denikin restoring democracy no longer locks you out of doing their 2nd term tree
VNS gets proper coalitions now between its soccon/authdem wings
fixes to Duma working in Russia, esp for Kadets
Malawi annextion event properly releases the tag
added vp pics to remaining ones lacking them in France, Britain, Switzerland, Netherlands and Belgium
fix for Anarchist Belarus not being able to get rid of illiteracy or weak national identity
switching to marlib as Remnant New England now gives patauts into a coalition
the Bulgarist dude no longer comes to power in a dem party slot before taking over as natpop
updated party roster and puppeting as republic leader roster for Egypt
devolving Wales and Scotland no longer gives them 100% radsoc support
replaced Harry Pollitt with Jeffrey Hamm as totalist leader of Wales
extended the cores Dan Seavey CSA gets on Barbary Coast in the expansion event
added Grand Rapids and Traverse City as vps
non-natpop Brazil's event to form united South America now fires from Argentina annexation event options, so you can do it and get cores on them by also occupying Argies nwo
some minor fixes for Bolivia and subideology filling in
slight buffs to Portugal
slight buffs to Belgium/Flanders-Wallonia
added peaceout event for anyone that occupied NYC that's in a faction
fix for non-monarchist Russia releasing governorate Pribaltika
marlibs are added to coalition when switching to authdem/pataut as AOG
changed Vacłaŭ Łastoŭski from savinkovism to natpop agrarianism
fix for not being able to deny sending guns to Patagonia when they ask for them
fixed Liberia's leader gui being visible after puppeting by ideologies it shouldn't display for
added an event to release a custom Indochina puppet for NFA under Jean Decoux
fixed early Weltkrieg over Wallonian independence and 3I
finally fixed democratic Central American puppets unifying into independent CA and leaving your overlordship
made it so if Afghanistan is British dominion it also gets annexed in the peaceout for Delhi
added portrait picker for Bucard
made Sikkim elections repeatable
KDP dissolving into 3 when not in power doesn't rename soclib PSR under Kerensky
buffed non-Socialist non-Ungern trees in Mongolia to be comparable in strength to Socialists, also buffed the shared non-Ungern military tree
added burkhanism/ak jang flavour events for Ja Lama
fix for NSP going down with NEP not unlocking 5 year plan properly
fixes to Russian later elections
Ukraine no longer joins 3I before the German intervention against socialists is resolved, meaning early wk2 no longer happens from it
army spirit affecting normal cavalry now also affects camels and irregular cav
added Robert M. Danford as field marshal for New York
slight fixes to balkanized America puppeting
added an event for Germany that has Hawaii and GEA as puppets to possibly transfer every island west of Honolulu to GEA
fixed New Moon's Alaska joining 3I
LKMT can do Imperialism Crushed Forevermore if the nations they liberated are also socdem instead of just socialist gov
soclib Belarus can do the army tree now
Austrian focuses about inviting Greece, Albania and Bulgaria to faction are now locked to after Fourth Balkan War
added more vps to Southwest Africa
fixed Iroqouis and Wabanaki not being released when playing Towner Alaska
added the USA fp tree as an unlockable shared tree to non-major American tags that unified the States
fixed BBR elections not happening after the first one
fixed Transamur elections not repeating
fixes for subideology setting on president/pm changes in Russia
Transamur that joined anti-Bolshevik forces during 2nd RCW will leave them if they go NRA
marlib Germany is not locked out of doing the christian trade unions
fixed Britain being able to do the focus to get rid of post-WK2 natspirit without having it
added Franz von Roques as general for Germany
added ability for Canada to just directly annex Iceland after winning Cod War
decisions for PLC Beck to annex Bohemia and Slovakia puppet/faction member like for Hungary and Finland
added a check for Dutch East Indies being in the same faction as Germany to the GEA peace out, so if you do it you also get Indies
expanded the cores soccon Ottomans can get from their Pan-Islam event
added subideo picker to Makhno path and made him gui leader to Black Guard council
added extra ideas for CathAus focuses about reconstruction
fix for Ukraine's Kyiv Conference crashing the game
Semyonov no longer fights himself in Buryatia and Transamur at the same time
Transamur no longer has bugged out lack of access to coring occupation type
Middle Sea Fleet now goes to Germany in case that Crete is sold to Greece/Ottomans
fix for Canada not being able to switch conscription law if Bill C-7 failed
added Al Smith, William O'Dwyer and Frank Costello as possible Tammany Hall puppet mayor leaders, changed De Valera mayor to be a unique event that fires if you picked Olvany, O'Dwyer or Walker
added an event for Remi to switch to soccon and POB to switch to soclib under Georges Truffaut in post-Rexist elections, Remi can also restore the monarchy if Degrelle abolished it and gets unique ones depending of how much of Netherlands/France he owns
added a flavour event about Benny Benson to Alaska
fixed Napoleonic France flag picker decision not firing an event if you did it once already
added Bernarr Macfadden as an alternative successor to Bodin, with 2 unique flavour events with one of them possible to also get in FDR Jr. path
improved the cores you get for Darnand's anti-Pope Italy conquest stuff
fix for MAF tree building naval factory in one focus in-land
allowed syndies, radsoc and dem Mexico to do the Rightful Place focus in fp tree
made Rocque Garza natpop militant atheist in Mexico, updated subideos for Trump, La Guardia and Welles in NYC, made Nock start out as authlib in NE Remnants path
added unique subideology British Maximism for Mosley and Panchayat System for Prince Mahendra of Nepal
Hoahao Vietnam can crown Cuong De as Emperor if they didn't allow Ba Cut to take over
added George E. Deatherage as leader switcher hog for Moseley COR
Johnston Murray, Bill's son, added to list of possible successors of Alfalfa Bill Murray
H.G. Wells got a flavour event for Clem Imperial/Global Fed Britain path, where he can become foreign minsiter or head of state with Clem as hog, both of them in case of forming global fed event get socdem liberal interventionism
fixed for German response against NatDems taking over Poland
tweaked state-holder elections in MAF so the player can never get overruled by ai Germany appointing Asmis
added ability for Moseley COR to release Juan Almazan, his friend, in charge of Mexico in annexation event
buffed the Encourage Integration focus in USA/PSA tree
Jean Mermoz stays as leader gui pm after choosing Rocque's successor
made the late game about Futurians and possible David Lasser as leader also fire for Welles NYC now
new flavour event about Dudley Field Malone for Welles, Steinbeck and FDR Jr. NYC, with the first two also being able to make him leader with Rose Schneiderman as hog
added successors event to La Guardia, with Robert Moses with authoritarian liberalism, Julius Henry 'Groucho' Marx with humanistic capitalism and his brothers as ministers, Vincent Impellitteri with longism, Thomas Dewey with centrism, Kermit Roosevelt with jeffersonianism and Wendell Willkie with liberal internationalism. Also fixed Little Flower event for La Guardia not firing
fix for non-natpop dem paths in France being able to do Great Peace of Montreal if AF got elected
added two flavour events for Constitutional States about Coca-Cola, either keep it to yourself or allow other Americans to have it
fixed Congo not being able to get rid of their collapse debuff if they didn't finish the collapse army tree before cw finished
made UMHK marlib and soclib wings coalition when elected
added Haida Gwaii as a state
added a flavour event about the creation of 'Dixiewood'

Hi ! This is one more post of a series whose aim is to share the Monogatari short stories that hadn't been translated into English yet. Except that one already was. Whatever.
Short stories masterpost here, updated regularly to show our progress with the translations.
 
 
Today is a re-translation of Hitagi Throwing (by Tigoris), a rather long short story, published in the Heroine Book #5: Senjougahara Hitagi. This one is among the most interesting short stories : it is about Suruga remembering her first meeting with Hitagi at the age of 12.
Once again, the previous translation was very old, and I wanted to make sure we had a better version for the short stories book.
 
 
As someone who has been devoted to Senjougahara Hitagi for some years now, it feels like a betrayal of some kind to say something like this, but when I first met her as a first-year in middle school, the impression that I had of her was not exactly a positive one.
 
To be more specific, one might say that it was a negative impression.
 
I thought, “Just who is this girl?”
 
If it’s okay to be a bit more informal, then my more exact thought was, “This girl’s bad news.” Now, I’d like you to cut me some slack here, because at the time I had only just graduated from elementary school, and I was, in appearance, personality, ability, and intellect, a brat of a meager 12 years of age.
 
However, I will also firmly say that Senjougahara-senpai was not entirely without fault of her own; in fact, let me emphasize that she was not without fault. After all, when she—the track-and-field club’s very own ace—came storming into the gym during basketball practice, it seemed like the start of a raid, and all of the basketball club members flinched. And she didn’t come alone. She brought along a large group of her followers, which was not limited to other track-and-field members and included students from not only the second- and third-year students, but there were even some first-year students mixed in. To an observer, it looked as if a feudal lord had descended upon the gymnasium along with his full retinue of retainers.
 
To put it another way, it’s like when Mitchi showed up in Slam Dunk.
 
She was smiling softly and had a gentle manner, but that only made her all the more intimidating, in part because her cronies had an unusual air about them.
 
“You’re Kanbaru-san, then? I’ve heard rumors that you’re quick on your feet—if it’s no bother, may I observe you?”
 
What is she, a noble lady?
 
That was what I wanted to say, but back then Senjougahara-senpai was like that—she was like a character taken straight from a shoujo novel.
 
It put a shiver down my spine to discover that this person really existed. And allow me to clarify that when I say “a shiver down my spine,” I don’t mean it in the good way—looking back on it now, it might be more accurate to say that I recoiled with shock.
 
I had an instinctive feeling that her request was strange.
 
And so was she.
 
To put it simply, that just about sums up my first impression of her—of course, Senjougahara-senpai was famous, so after I had enrolled in the school and even before I joined the basketball club, I had already heard her name a number of times.
 
She and Hanekawa-senpai were the two poster children for my school—to the point that we were told (by a teacher during the entrance ceremony) not to cross “those two” if we wanted to make it in the school (at the time I didn’t know which two the teacher was talking about, but, in retrospect, the warning was largely accurate).
 
However, as you know, I was a twelve-year-old who had, for various reasons, a rather extraordinary obsession with running fast—but because of those same reasons, I was unable to join the track and field club. Nevertheless, I took an interest in the ace of the track and field club, Senjougahara-senpai, and went to observe her running during that April, even though I had not become a trial member of the team.
 
I didn’t realize that it was possible for a person to run so beautifully.
 
It took my breath away.
 
My running form was not something that I had received coaching for—even now, I have not received any education in sprinting, so my running form is self-taught. Being self-taught is not a bad thing; it’s a perfectly acceptable running style, and I never had a complex about how I ran, but when I saw Senjougahara-senpai run on that day, the beauty of her form stood in stark contrast to the frantic flailing of my own form.
 
She displayed the final form of human running.
 
She was the idealized runner.
 
But I could not attempt to copy her—she was not like me, and I was not like her.
 
I was painfully aware of our differences.
 
I also remember thinking that the track uniforms were erotic, but that’s neither here nor there. I’d had no intention of joining the track club, as I said before, but after seeing her run, whatever lingering regrets I had were gone.
 
It blew me away.
 
To look at it another way, it was seeing Senjougahara-senpai run that day that made me into the basketball player that I am today—it was easy to forget what had caused me to become so passionately devoted to basketball, but I’ll save that discussion of “you never know what event will become a turning point in your life” for another time.
 
You could say that I’m not really a shy person, but when it came to Senjougahara-senpai, I made it my policy to actively avoid coming in contact with her, so for her to seek me out on her own was so surprising as to strike me dumb. Add in her whole “storybook princess” demeanor, and I turned into a stuttering, stumbling idiot—so, suffice to say, on the day that Senjougahara-senpai (and her retinue) observed my basketball practice, I was not exactly doing my best.
 
“May we speak, Kanbaru-san?”
 
After practice, Senjougahara-senpai approached me—and while I didn’t exactly feel enticed by her invitation, my heart skipped a beat regardless.
 
Looking at her up close, it was hard to believe that a girl with such mature features was only a year older than myself.
 
“You’re as fast as the rumors say—so how about it? Do you have any interest in transferring to the track club? Why not spend your youth in friendly competition with me?”
 
… She was an impressively bold headhunter. By the way, the basketball team captain (a third-year) was also there at the time as Senjougahara-senpai (a second-year) tried to steal me from the team, but the captain acted as if it were none of her business and didn’t interrupt.
 
Just what were you hoping to find by examining the ball that closely, captain?
 
You can turn it over as many times as you want; you’re not going to find a hole.
 
I was disappointed in the team captain, but setting that aside, I was happy to receive the invitation—no matter the situation or the way that it was said, I would always be happy to receive praise for the legs that I was so proud of. It made my heart dance to be acknowledged.
 
That simplicity still has not changed.
 
I’ve always been an idiot when it came to this.
 
That said, it still didn’t mean that I was so stupid as to blindly be scouted just because someone praised me. I’m an idiot who can think. So I politely, but firmly, declined her invitation while trying to hint that she had been a bit rude, but without being so blatant as to damage her reputation or be rude myself.
 
“Better luck next time.”
 
Huh?
 
What is this memory?
 
Who is this cheeky little brat? Oh, it’s me.
 
Was I at the age where I reacted to authority with petulance? Or was I afraid that if I didn’t reject her firmly, she would wear away my resolve and convince me to join the track club? Either way, maybe that wasn’t the exact phrasing that I used (I would like to think so), but, even if so, I still rejected Senjougahara-senpai in a rude way.
 
“Oh my. You’re quite spirited, aren’t you? I’m becoming even more interested in you.”
 
Senjougahara-senpai replied in a cool and composed tone (looking back on it now, I can’t help but think, “Who the hell are you?”), but the retinue of club members assembled behind her looked to be trying to use their eyes to stab me through.
 
Oh man, I’m so dead.
 
The crowd of cronies looked ready to get physical with me, but Senjougahara-senpai smiled and held a hand out to stop them without looking, then said, “It’s okay. I like nothing more than to tame cute girls like this.”
 
Seriously, who the hell are you?
 
Perhaps my imagination is adding to the memory a bit, so maybe my memory of middle school second-year Senjougahara-senpai isn’t perfectly accurate, but the big picture of us having a stressful, if brief, interview as our first contact is certainly true.
 
“Have a pleasant day.”
 
And with those parting words, Senjougahara-senpai left.
 
Even in the face of my unfavorable and downright rude response, she remained elegant. She carried on that noble air from start to finish, and while those events did hurt me, I thought that it was for the best.
 
Even if I had to be rude to do it, it would be better to firmly reject her than to reply so mildly that she continued to hold out hopes for me—of course, having rejected one of the famous girls of the school, I suspected that I may have set myself up to have a difficult life as a middle school girl, but, well, even if I had tried to stay in her good favor, I would likely have bungled that too.
 
Come if you’re going to come; I’ll take you on.
 
That was the stance that I mentally took, and I was not disappointed.
 
But the one who came to find me in the gym the next day was not one or more of Senjougahara-senpai’s retinue come to put me in my place, but instead it was Senjougahara-senpai herself—without anyone else, just herself.
 
“Hello everyone. We are blessed with lovely weather today, aren’t we? May I observe your practice once again?”
 
The older girls in the basketball club began to murmur to each other—it sounded different from the reaction from the previous day, and I later learned that it was because Senjougahara-senpai very rarely went anywhere unaccompanied.
 
She didn’t choose to have people follow her around, but instead, it was more that she was the kind of person that people naturally gravitated to and followed—which meant that the only way she could arrive in the gym without at least a small group of followers was for her to have told them to leave her alone.
 
Why?
 
I told her “better luck next time,” so did she actually think that she should try again and hopefully have better luck on the second attempt? And she decided that coming on her own might be the factor that would convince me?
 
Several of the basketball team members volunteered to make Senjougahara-senpai more comfortable, and so she sat off to the side in a comfortable chair, partaking in the snacks she had been provided while watching us practice with a smile. Or rather, she watched me practice. I couldn’t read anything from her body language.
 
I had been welcomed into the basketball club with a good bit of fanfare because of my speed, so it wasn’t as if I had never been observed while playing before, but there was something about being watched so intensely that made it difficult to play. On that day, I missed an unusually high percentage of shots and even made a lot of simple mistakes with dribbling—the only thing that kept me from outright failing was the speed of my legs. But seeing as Senjougahara-senpai was there to see how fast I could be, she must have been happy with the display.
 
“Kanbaru-san. Have you reconsidered your response to my invitation?”
 
“No, I’m not having second thoughts…”
 
I didn’t go so far as to say I hadn’t thought about it at all.
 
It was difficult to be rude to someone who showed up two days in a row to express interest in you.
 
“Hm. Then how about this? You and I shall have a 100-meter race, and if I win, then you will transfer into the track club. Don’t you think it’s a wonderful idea?”
 
“… So if you lose, then you’ll join the basketball team?”
 
“Eh?”
 
She tilted her head in confusion.
 
No, don’t you “Eh?” me.
 
There’s no way that you don’t understand.
 
“No, I will not be doing that.”
 
She firmly rejected the idea.
 
“But it would mean that I will no longer come to the gym every day without fail.”
 
“You intend to come every day…”
 
I told her no.
 
I’m pretty sure that I tried to be less rude than the day before.
 
“Oh.”
 
Senjougahara-senpai seemed genuinely surprised by the response.
 
“How strange. Was I wrong about you?”
 
“About what?”
 
“Someone like you would be unable to back down when presented with a challenge.”
 
“…”
 
That assumption of hers—was correct.
 
But, even if that were the case, I couldn’t allow myself to race against anyone. Of course, if I accepted the challenge and won, then the whole issue would be settled. But if I were to lose… I didn’t want to think about what would happen.
 
Also, there was the question of whether Senjougahara-senpai would actually back down if I won against her in the race—so it would be all risk with no reward.
 
“No thanks.”
 
She simply said that she understood.
 
I fell silent, and Senjougahara-senpai left—but before she departed the gym, she cleaned up the snack wrappers and put away the chair that she had used while observing our practice. She did seem to have had a good upbringing.
 
I was happy if she understood that she wouldn’t be able to convince me to join her club, but, thinking about it more, Senjougahara-senpai hadn’t said what it was that she understood. The true meaning of her words was a mystery.
 
And the next day, that mystery was solved.
 
For the third time, Senjougahara Hitagi arrived in the gymnasium during the basketball team’s practice. But unlike the first and second visits, she was not wearing her school uniform, nor was she wearing the erotic—that is to say, stylish—uniform of the track club, but she instead wore one of our own basketball uniforms.
 
Her back bore the number 4.
 
Well, actually, the number was also on the front of her jersey, so I don’t suppose I needed to specify that it was on her back. Anyway, the point is that the #4 jersey belonged to the captain.
 
I looked back to confirm and found that, sure enough, our team captain was in the back of the gym wearing her P.E. uniform and polishing a basketball. I just polished that one. Why are you polishing it again? Just how shiny do you want that ball to be? It’ll slip out of our hands if you give it any more polish than that.
 
Apparently our team captain rented out her uniform, what you might call the symbol that our team followed, to Senjougahara-senpai when she asked for it. You could say that this was the instant when all of our captain’s authority vanished.
 
Once this whole thing was settled, there would be a coup d'état.
 
“If you will not compete with me on the track, then I will come to your field and compete with this basketball. Does this work for you?”
 
“Uh… huh…?”
 
To be entirely honest, I was mostly just feeling uneasy at that point in time, and I definitely didn’t want to accept her challenge. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have when she had shown up a third time to try and convince me to join the track club?
 
She did, technically, ask for the “captain’s” permission before doing this (it pains me that I had to put quotation marks around captain, but that reflects the sad state of affairs at the time), and so half of the gym’s court was reserved for myself and Senjougahara-senpai to have our competition.
 
Our showdown.
 
Bout. Duel.
 
What actually followed was not as dramatic as the words used to describe it might suggest. It wasn’t instantly resolved, and there was definitely some tension during the competition, but it’s a bit difficult to have much drama when the competition is just a free throw contest. Our “captain,” or, I guess I should say, our captain, insisted that we have a competition where there was no risk of us coming into physical contact with each other. I was a new member on the team, and while Senjougahara-senpai was a veteran athlete, she was not a basketball player. So, to be on the safe side, it was decided that we could not have a true 1-on-1 match on the off chance that either of us should get injured.
 
Whoever made ten baskets first would win.
 
There were no handicaps, and the competition proceeded in a simple and straightforward manner—we took turns taking our shots, and after thirty minutes, it was all over.
 
The final score was ten to nine.
 
It was a close match—which Senjougahara-senpai won.
 
We both missed a number of shots, but we remained neck-and-neck throughout, until, in the end, Senjougahara-senpai managed to get the final basket.
 
“It was a good competition.” Senjougahara spoke, brushing aside her long, elegant hair. “Kanbaru-san, it seems that you are more suited for the basketball court than the track—I hope that you will continue to give it your best.”
 
She turned on her heel and left the gym.
 
I had already been thinking of some way to avoid taking part in races (such as by focusing on long jump or high jump) and had resigned myself to having to join the track club, so when Senjougahara-senpai simply departed, I was left dumbfounded for a moment.
 
But it was only a moment.
 
I hurriedly chased after Senjougahara-senpai—and I full-out sprinted, so I quickly caught up to her elegant walk, and I grabbed her wrist.
 
Grabbing someone by the wrist is a forceful way to stop them. One might say that it’s wild and violent, which is to say, it’s very me. Senjougahara-senpai turned to look at me with obvious suspicion, and perhaps she was letting her real self show through because her gaze was sharp.
 
Under that sharp gaze, I asked, “Was this your goal from the start?”
 
It was almost more like an interrogation than a simple question, which was also very like me.
 
“You wanted to compete with me, beat me, and then drop me?”
 
“… What do you mean? For what reason would I do such a thing?”
 
Senjougahara-senpai asked back seriously without any hint of evasion.
 
“To protect me,” I replied.
 
The outline was simple enough—there was no mistake that the original reason that she had come to the gym was to scout me for the track team after hearing rumors about me.
 
And she would surely have anticipated that there was a chance that I would say no to her invitation.
 
But what she did not anticipate was the super strength of my refusal—that is, my more-than-necessary, full-on rejection. And I had rejected her so rudely in front of all of her followers.
 
Senjougahara-senpai managed to keep things peaceful at that time, but, as they say, bad news travels fast. A newly enrolled first-year who dared to bare her teeth at the elegant and skilled Senjougahara Hitagi would be a rumor that reached every ear in record time, and when it did… my school life would have a very bleak outlook.
 
I had planned—which is to say, foolishly assumed—to deal with that problem when the time came, but Senjougahara-senpai had a way to prevent it from happening in the first place.
 
She was able to rein in the people who followed her directly, but she had no way of anticipating what others might do upon hearing the rumor—people are good on their own, but there’s plenty of bad to be found in a group. That was why Senjougahara-senpai needed to get ahead of the rumors and put an end to the story—and in a way that would let her be in the winning position. But it wasn’t just about her winning—she needed to win in such a way that it would be a close battle so as not to tarnish the reputation of the first-year rising star of the basketball team.
 
And so we had a free-throw contest.
 
… Thinking about it more, it had been strange for the team captain to just go along with whatever Senjougahara-senpai said, but then also be the one to decide on the rules for the contest in the way that she did… In other words, by having us take turns to do our free throws, they would be able to control the scores, and the two of them must have arranged the entire circumstance of our contest from the start, back whenever Senjougahara-senpai had gone to ask to borrow the uniform (which means I was completely wrong about the captain).
 
If I had accepted her challenge on the second day—which would have been the best for Senjougahara-senpai—she could have controlled her speed so as to put on a show of it being a close race between the two of us.
 
She must have a lot of confidence to have been so sure that she could “barely win in a neck-and-neck competition” in not only running on the track but also a free throw competition. That she was able to pull it off so cleanly, however, meant that I could not fault her for that confidence.
 
By clearly and definitively beating me and then, just as clearly and definitively, acknowledging my ability in a public space—which is to say, giving me permission to continue playing basketball—she would knock down the perceived conflict and defuse the situation with her fans who might have wished me harm.
 
“… Supposing that I had been thinking along those lines…”
 
Senjougahara-senpai spoke now in a flat, sober voice that was entirely unlike how she had been talking up until that point.
 
“Wouldn’t you be throwing away my consideration by confronting me and voicing your thoughts to me? Are you not undoing what I’ve just done?”
 
She was trying to tell me that I should follow her lead and subtly accept what she did for me. I let go of her wrist.
 
And then I took hold of her hand instead.
 
I did so gently.
 
I copied Senjougahara-senpai’s mannerisms of softness and kindness—she no doubt thought that I was trying to have a friendly parting handshake to show that there were no hard feelings, but instead I did something that was completely unexpected and kissed the back of her hand.
 
“W… What?!”
 
She practically screamed the word with surprise, and I straightened.
 
“No, I don’t think so.” I declared. “Because I have decided to accept your kindness and go far beyond what is necessary to repay it—Senjougahara-senpai.”
 
From now on, I am your dog.
 
That’s what I told her.
 
Senjougahara Hitagi and Kanbaru Suruga. The pair that would go on to be called the Valhalla Duo began here.
 
“Are you an idiot?”
 
I still think that those words and the cold smile that came with them were probably Senjougahara-senpai’s genuine, impartial reaction to what I had said.
 
 
As usual, thank you spr-o-ckt for contributing to this commission.
A cute little story. I wish we could see more of those that actually feels important rather than yet another pun-filled discussion about a random topic.
See you next time for another story !

I'm quite serious, I have been for quite some time at my own detriment but at the same time it allowed me to have a strong opinion and perspective of the world and how I view people. For that very reason I will do both of us a favor by starting off with the reasons why we probably shouldn't talk.
I'm not looking to play mind games or play with people, I'm way past the point of hurting people and being hurt myself. I'm proud to say I have spent zero minutes on an online dating site but if you count this I guess that's a lie, I've waited a long ass time IRL for chance encounters but my personality type doesn't really favor that method. I don't agree or engage with any modern ideology or political "trends", I'm genuinely sick of it all and am sad to see how divided we have become over the "if you're not with us you're against us" mentality. Religion is a nooo. I really couldn't care less about the lives of others and how to better the world, I genuinely believe that if everyone would just STFU and just focused on their own individual growth, so many of our socio-political issues would be gone. And lastly, I'm not looking to relocate for the most part, I'm stuck here for work and am not interested in long-distance or international, no exceptions to this. Which is ironic because I feel like I do not get along with the majority here, I'm very much a reclusive outlier in that sense.
If you've made it this far a little about myself.
Quite simply but extensively I'm a car obsessed, typically avoids people introvert that spends most of his free time playing games, watching anything from anime to documentaries, learning about anything that interests me at the moment, and huge fan of anything that's made with a specific purpose and engineered to perfection. I'm cheap in the sense that I don't enjoy paying for clearly overpriced and overrated things, but do enjoy splurging after a goood financial edge for something I really wanted for quite some time. I hate the idea of debt and owing money, especially if it involves interest. I'm messy but not dirty, more logical than adventurous, and prefer stability over risky. I'm a strong believer in personal responsibility, protecting, and believing in things based on your own decisions.
I don't like halfassing things so either I'm all in or not. I don't think I'm picky but I definitely have preferences. I'd rather be misunderstood instead of trying to explain something to someone that neither has the interest or potential for understanding. I'm a natural libertarian in the sense that I'm conservative when it comes to major change, prefer smaller government, and strongly believe in individual freedom, but liberal in the sense that I don't discriminate based on the individual and honestly couldn't care less about what people that aren't in my life do with their lives. However with that said I do think there's a lot of...pointless and useless excess in the world, I really don't understand those that buy into lobbyists, fear mongering, and trying to save/protect things/people when they themselves need saving.
I've suffered a lot emotionally, especially internally against myself. I am cautious around people and may take some time to fully open up but at the same time if I find someone I can trust there's nothing to hide. I don't like excuses and beating around the bush, I just want to live a comfortable life, whether that's alone or with a special someone, I try not to think too far ahead.
I'm not interested in entertaining low effort responses, I'm very invested in this and out of respect I ask the same from you if you're interested. I have no issues ignoring people but if someone puts in the effort I'd be happy to engage.

Could you do me a huge favor? 🥺Please accept my invite so that I can get free giftsCopy my code: 237188994

We were out and about yesterday with the kids when the pride parade started rolling past so we posted near the intersection of Decatur and Dumaine St. to enjoy. Our youngest is almost 11 and he loves a parade- the costumes, the music, dancing, and the chance that he might catch something cool is right up his alley. So many of y'all went out of your way to give him something you caught and I just appreciate those kind gestures so much!
Two people really stood out. "The whistler"- you could hail a taxi from the top of the Empire State building with that whistle! You handed off so many marvelous beads, flags and treasures! May your lungs always be clear and trees be free of stinging caterpillars! "Bandeau top glasses gal"- giver of the gorgeous library fan, Stonewall cup, and treasured iridescent beads. I hope every act of kindness you bestow is met with the appreciation it deserves and I pray you never accidently step in a gross puddle with your favorite shoes!

Dear Mr. XXXX,
As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel. After your consistent and annoying harassment of my co-workers and me during our commission of duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the few true genetic wastes of our time.
Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired because I know how to network computer systems, and you were apparently hired to provide amusement to your employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of “cut and paste” as it is explained to you for the hundredth time.
You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as binary still gives you too many options. You will also never understand why people hate you, but I am going to try and explain it to you, even though I am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what an IP is. Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will.
You wander around the building all day, shiftlessly seeking fault in others. You have a sharp dressed, useless look about you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at. Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle.
Seeing as this situation is unlikely to change without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to tender my resignation; however, I have a few parting thoughts:
When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation as I have consisted performed my duties and even more. The most you can say to hurt me is, “I prefer not to comment.” To keep you honest, I will have friends randomly call you over the next couple of years, because I know you would be unable to do it on your own.
I have all the passwords to every account on the system and I know every password you have used for the last five years. If you decide to get cute, I will publish your “Favorites,” which I conveniently saved when you made me “back up” your useless files. I do believe that terms like “Lolita” are not viewed favorably by the university administrations.
When you borrowed the digital camera to “take pictures of your mother’s b-day,” you neglected to mention that you were going to take nude pictures of yourself in the mirror. Then, like the techno-moron you are, you forgot to erase them. Suffice it to say, I have never seen such odd acts with a ketchup bottle. I assure you that those photos are being kept in safe places pending your authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation. (And, for once, would you please try to use spellcheck? I hate correcting your mistakes.)
I expect the letter of recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word of this to anybody and all of your twisted little repugnant obsessions will become public knowledge. Never f*ck with your systems administrator, Mr. Baker! They know what you do with all that free time!
Sincerely
David
Network Administrator

Okay so to start with. Just the other day, one of my friends found my last post and challenged me to make a build that granted the use of the Essence of The Jumpmaster, to build the Ultimate Survivalist Build. What that means is that you could be dropped into the harshest most dangerous places in existence and with come out alive. But to make it harder you only get one perk per jump. Looking like Mahoraga is Optional. (For reference here is the Essence)
You consume the Essence of an experienced Jumper, and gain the following benefits: •Gain 10,000 Choice Points. •These points may be spent across any Jumpchain document, you do not however gain the benefits of any discounts. •You may take any purchases listed as Free at no cost so long as you spend 100cp in the corresponding Jump Document for each Free option taken. •You may also choose to apply the Body Mod supplement to yourself. •Drawbacks do not grant any points. •Gain one origin for free, you benefit from any exclusive perks or freebies for this origin. •Any stipends of bonus choice points a jump may grant are only accessible if you spend twice that amount of Choice Points in that jump. You must obey any restrictions associated with these stipends. •You may choose to be dropped into any setting in which you have spent choice points on, or you may be returned to your original reality.
So far the perks I have chosen are Andreias Amarantos from Empires of Antiquity Fate Legends, Dragon Slayer from Voyage to Valhalla Fate Legends, A Mother’s Love from The Divinity Saga’s Jump, Adaptability from The New JJK Jump, God Hand from The Vasto of White Jump, Master of Many Resistances EX from The Grand Foreigner Jump and The Indestructible Reptile from The One Helluva Broken Day Jump. If you could suggest and resistance or adaptability perks that would be great. (Here is the Description of The Perks)
[Andreias Amarantos (600)]: •Having been bathed in holy flames blessed by the Gods of Olympus when you were younger, you share a similar blessing as Achilles. Your body has become invincible, at least in regards to those that lack the divine. Any attack, no matter the power or nature, will fail to harm your body should it not be delivered by a divine weapon or a divine being, even magic or powerful conceptual weapons. To truly pass this defense, the divinity must be equal to that of at least a demigod with one powerful parent or the equivalent, and lesser amounts of divinity will result in only a small percentage of the incoming attack being able to affect you. It is also possible for enemies to trick their way past this blessing, by attacking with an ‘act of friendship’, such as being bitten by a vampire who intends to turn you into a vampire like them. Finally, your one true weakness that all can strike at, is that one of your heels were unable to be covered in the fires and not only does that heel lack your invincibility, specifically striking it with enough power to damage the heel will result in your invincibility being deactivated for a full day.
[Dragon Slayer (600)]: •The evil dragon shall fall and the world will reach its sunset. For you are here to ensure that. Some may reach legendary status after many trials but you? You already reached this pillar. Siegfried, one of the greatest Heroes in mythology. He is your peer and perfect equal. Your skill in battle is as such that even a twice over more powerful opponent, enhanced by the Holy Grail, could be matched by your sheer prowess with a sword. The kind of skill no doubt helped you as you slew a dragon. Whether or not you truly have already done the deed matters little for you receive such rewards now. Your every strike is vastly more effective against draconic enemies. As long as they can be counted as being a dragon, even if they only have the core or blood of one, they will suffer far more damage from your attacks, as if you are their weakness. As such attacks from them are also less powerful against you. And that is without counting what kind of durability you have now. Your body itself is a titan, unmoving against the greatest of attacks for you bathed in the blood of Fafnir. Your skin is like dragon scales, invulnerable to anything short of something on the level of a Hero of Charities Spear. Especially in a defensive battle, you are like a moving fortress as your protection increases even further. There is one downside to this blessing however. One part of your body was not receiving the dragons blood, causing a weak spot the size of a linden leaf. This weak spot can not be covered and must remain exposed at all times. Any attack you suffer there will not be weakened, impacting you with its full force and damage to your weak spot is considerably more difficult to heal. Also due to the nature of your protection, if you yourself are struck with something possessing an Anti-Dragon attribute, the protection will be slightly weakened.
[A Mother’s Love (600/800 CP)]: •The Curse of Baldur is a powerful protective magic that Freya cast on her son Baldur. It rendered him immune to harm from physical attacks and nearly any magic. Even being slain would only incapacitate him temporarily. The only thing capable of breaking this protection was the mistletoe. This caused the protective runes to shatter. For 600 CP you claim the curse for yourself without suffering the inability to feel like Baldur. You however, must select a single substance that is capable of piercing your defenses. This may be a rare substance however, such as an exotic metal. •Also should your protection be breached it will reappear a few minutes later rather than disappearing permanently. For an additional 200 CP you can upgrade this perk further into the Protection of the World. When Freya cast her spell on Taylor she modified the curse to be stronger and retain the user’s ability to feel. The protection of the world made Taylor immune to any being native to her universe. Only a being such as Scion who was foreign to her multiverse would be capable of piercing her impenetrable skin.
•Master of Many Resistances EX is a skill that grants the user immunity to nearly all status effects. Everything from resistance to specific diseases, to special weapons can be gained with this skill. Though the more general this protection is the less effective the skill becomes. For example, you could acquire complete protection from a single specific type of attack, or you could have a decent resistance against everything. You may freely shift this parameter at will, but you will only retain your active resistances.
[Adaptability (-1000cp)]: •Yeah this isn’t the technique of a human or a cursed spirit but a shikigami. But it’s cool so I’m putting it here. This is the ability to adapt to all phenomena such as attacks and how you fight. Each time the eight handled wheel behind you turns you become more and more resistant to a type of attack. Not just the specific one but in general. This adaptation works after a single attack but will speed up after each strike of the same technique. Such as if you were hit by a flame attack repeatedly you would become immune to it and flames in general. You also adapt as you fight. Your blows become able to injure your opponent even if they were previously invincible. Such as an opponent being weak to fire your blows will become wreathed in flames. This does take time though as the wheel must finish spinning four times. Also it can only adapt to one thing at a time. So if you are being hit with both ice and fire you can choose which to adapt to at the time. This effect is nullified when you remove the wheel and stop using the technique.
[The Indestructible Reptile (600 CP)]: •With this extraordinary perk, you unlock the unparalleled adaptability of SCP-682, the fearsome reptilian anomaly. Just like the entity itself, you possess the remarkable ability to rapidly adapt and overcome the most daunting challenges and threats. When threatened your body will rapidly adapt to the threat generating countermeasures. This extends to your body, mind, and even your very essence giving you an inherent capacity for adaptation. When confronted with hazardous or hostile environments, your physiology adjusts seamlessly, granting you immunity or resistance to the dangers that would affect others. Whether it be extreme temperatures, toxic substances, or other perils, your body can transform to withstand and thrive. •Should you dislike the adaption you may shed the physical changes while retaining the adaption. For example, if you don’t want a larger physical body your muscles might go denser and still retain your enhanced strength. Moreover, your mind exhibits an extraordinary capacity for strategic adaptation. When faced with intellectual challenges or mental assaults, your cognitive abilities sharpen, allowing you to analyze and counteract even the most complex of schemes. Your thoughts become nimble and your intuition keen, enabling you to swiftly devise creative solutions and outmaneuver those who would seek to undermine you. Should a threat fail to eradicate you in a single strike then you will only grow stronger from their effort. Perhaps eventually you can adapt beyond reality itself.
[God Hand (400 CP)]: •This perk allows you to access the legendary Noble Phantasm of the mythic hero, Heracles - the God Hand. Your body will become on par with divine-class conceptual armor, rendering you nearly invulnerable. Any method that kills you once will not be able to kill you again, providing you with eleven lives. In addition, these boons will be permanent, making you a constantly growing warrior. This represents the monumental achievement of the twelve labors of Greek mythology, granting you the ability to endure and overcome any obstacle. With this ability, death is not the end but the beginning, and you will emerge from each battle stronger than before. Lastly, these lives will be restored every ten years or once per jump whichever is shorter.
(Links) Empires of Antiquity Fate Legends Voyage to Valhalla Fate Legends The Divinity Saga JJK Jump The Vasto of White Grand Foreigner One Helluva Broken Day

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*I kick off this post with some nonsense you probably won't care to read, I just enjoy writing. Jump down to where you see the numbered list to get the actual list - Jump to Number 5 for the "best value for your money"*
TLDR: Evolution, Evo, Solution, The Rock, ProSelect (temu) x2
Ah, the Wilson Evolution. The undisputed king of pick-up for the last 10+ years. Across all 50 states, YMCA's, Church gyms, rec centers, and local school gyms host some of the best and some of the worst pick-up basketball you've ever seen, all with one thing in common - the tried and true Wilson Evolution (I say the 50 states because I know it is not quite as popular overseas).
The evolution has become the fail-safe choice for all pick-up hoopers. But through my years functioning as the "guy-with-the-key-to-the-gym" in my personal pick-up group, I have had some time to really experiment with a variety of basketballs. Below you will find, in no particular order, the pros and cons of each ball, as I have played quite a bit of basketball with each of these and can personally attest to the quality of each.
IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER (BEST VALUE PICK AT THE BOTTOM):
1. The Wilson Evolution Duh. You've played with one of these before. It's great. It gets the job done. theres a reason its the most popular.
Cost: $80 (you can usually find a lightly used one on facebook for less!)
Pros

• fan favorite
• soft
• forgiving
• everyone plays with one / everyone is used to it
• generally trustworthy

Cons

• does NOT handle sweat well
• occasionally they're prone to chronic deflation
• can get warped somewhat easily

Overview it's a shooters ball and a familiar ball. It plays soft off the glass and the rim. It's been around for years and will continue to be around. Deep deep channels and soft composite just give it a satisfying feel.
2. The (sorta) new Wilson Evo NXT THE EVO IS NOT THE EVOLUTION. A lot of people think the Evo is just people shortening "evolution" - that is not the case. The Evo is a totally different ball. reference photo
Cost: $99
Pros

• grippy AF
• ages well, does better over time
• handles sweat WAY better than an evolution
• favors ball handlers

Cons

• people will whine about it because they're used to evolutions
• it plays a little harsher off the rim and backboard
• feels lighter than the evolution which can throw off your shot if you're not used to it
• at first it can feel almost like an outdoor ball

Overview its a guard/dribbler ball. Fun to handle and very responsive. If you like to put spin on a layup it will grip the backboard really well. It is the NCAA ball and its becoming more common in pick up games. It is meant to replace the Wilson Solution (review below). The bright orange ball you have seen in March Madness.
3. Wilson Solution You will have some trouble finding one of these if you want it, but it has a special place in the hearts of many
Cost: technically $99 but they are not produced anymore so they're tough to find (if they aren't produced, why review it? Because they're still VERY common and you can still get them, you just have to go secondhand usually. And they're still one of the best balls ever made)
Pros

• grippy AF - even more so than the EVO
• ages very well
• handles sweat best of any ball on this list
• favors ball handlers

Cons

• When its new it has a tacky feel and some don't like that
• it can "get away from you" due to it being firm pre-break-in
• The feel changes a lot over time, not in a bad way necessarily, but its of note

Overview Guard/dribbler ball. I originally got it purely for our pick up group purely for the sweat handling factor, and that alone was worth it. If your gym is not air conditioned or your guys sweat like crazy, its worth seeking one of these out. They don't magically remove sweat, but the ball does not turn into ice when it gets sweat on it like an evolution does.
4. The Rock If you want an evolution but wanna save 20-30 bucks
Cost: $50 (usually, you may see them priced higher than that but if you dig around you can usually find one for 50)
Pros

• soft
• forgiving
• essentially feels like an evolution
• cheaper than an evolution

Cons

• Poor sweat handling
• People you play with will likely prefer an evolution regardless of similarities

Overview Not much more to say other than that it's similar to an evolution. The composite is not quite as soft as an evolution, so it has a slightly "rougher" feel than an evolution, but not to a distracting degree. It is a solid bang-for-your-buck option
5. SLEEPER PICK - BEST VALUE OF 2024 - ProSelect US17 (model US1700HB) Thats right my friends, I took a risk on a ball from freakin' TEMU and it absolutely paid off - feel free to message me for links to these, temu is a Jungle. I couldn't include the links in the post
Cost: $36.50 - But you can find it on sale for $27
Pros

• Feel - it is super soft and grippy to the touch, but not really in a way thats comparable to any other ball. When I say soft I don't mean "squishy" like the outer of an evolution, the skin feels more comparable to a solution thats been well-loved and worn in a bit.
• Deep channels - you can really get your fingertips into the channels on this ball for a really nice shot feel
• ridiculously low price
• Handles sweat better than an evolution (though thats a low bar)

Cons

• I mean its from TEMU so you are taking a risk there
• you will be the only person in your gym with one of these, you might get some weird looks from people
• (I don't see this as a con) it has more of a firm under-skin. By that I mean- an evolution is very soft under the skin of the ball, so has that "squishy" feel between the skin and the rubber inner part. This ball has a more firm under-skin section so it holds shape in the panels similar to an EVO or a SOLUTION, if that makes sense

Overview I can't say enough good about this ball for the price point. If I coached a team I would buy a whole set of these. The fact that I can get 2-3 of them for the price of 1 evolution after tax is INSANE. If you are cool with taking a risk on a TEMU ball, get this one - link included. Every single guy in my pick up group loves this ball. We don't use it to play typically just because we have used an evolution for years now, but it has gotten nothing but love from everyone I have shown it to
Honorable Mention: ProSelect Ultra-soft Microfiber - TO SCRATCH YOUR WILSON SOLUTION ITCH IF YOU CANT FIND ONE - Yes I bought 2 balls from TEMU (message me if you want a link, TEMU is a jungle and its hard to find things without seeing 50 other things that look similar)
Cost: Currently $34 but prices change all the time on TEMU
Pros

• Check the Wilson Solution list because it is almost identical to a solution

Cons

• Again, take your chances with TEMU but I have had good luck so far
• Yes, it feels just like the solution but the channels are just like a hair shallower. Not to a ridiculous degree, but enough to notice if you have them side by side

Overview I mean, I love it lol. I am biased toward cheap things that turn out better than you thought. But this one is truly a phenomenal replica of the Solution, if thats your jam. I gave it the "honorable mention" spot as the Solution is rarely as hotly sought after as the Evolution is, so if your pick-up group wouldn't be stoked about a solution, pretty low likelihood that they would want to play with this ball. But I have no complaints, especially at the price point.

Link to the Daily Challenge
This is a place for Reddit users to submit their scores for the official Daily Challenge (hopefully) without the results being tarnished by cheaters. This should be played as a [2] -- zooming/rotating, moving allowed but external assistance is prohibited. Feel free to leave any walkthroughs in your comments, concealed with a spoiler tag.
A bot will keep a leaderboard for the month. You'll notice two columns related to your scoring performance. The first of these columns is labeled Average and represents your average score among all games throughout the month. The second column is labeled Score and represents either: 1. The average of your top 15 performances, or 2. Your average score divided by 15 (if you have played less than 15 games). The leaderboard is sorted by Score. At the end of the month, the highest Score will be declared the winner, and the leaderboard will reset for the next month.
Why do we keep score this way? There were 3 potential options for scorekeeping:

1. Straight Average -- flawed because a player who only plays once but scores 25000 would likely win for the month.
2. Cumulative Total -- flawed because it unfairly favors those who are able to play every and is a severe disadvantage to those who miss even a single day.
3. Score of top 15 -- the method currently in use, it allows for some leeway for those not able to play daily, but at the same time, it's beneficial to those who are able to play more than 15 times. After 15 plays, each new score will bump out the previous lowest score.

The Daily Challenge resets at midnight UTC, which coincides with the time that this post will go live each day. So essentially, make sure that you're commenting your score with its corresponding post.
HALL OF FAME
Summary of top 3 performances:

	1st	2nd	3rd
June 2021	Ancient-Recover695	Grymmwulf	jackES62
July 2021	Grymmwulf	Ancient-Recover695	JLyons18
August 2021	LunacyEcho	197gpmol	Ancient-Recover
September 2021	LunacyEcho	Ancient-Recover	solarsensei
October 2021	solarsensei	197gpmol	LunacyEcho
April 2022	JackES62	LunacyEcho	solarsensei

Top 10 Individual Personal Bests All-Time:

	User	Score	Month
1st	Grymmwulf	24945	July 2021
2nd	Ancient-Recover695	24718	June 2021
3rd	JackES62	24714	April 2022
3rd	LunacyEcho	24714	April 2022
5th	solarsensei	24674	October 2021
6th	197gpmol	24572	October 2021
7th	JLyons18	24552	July 2021
8th	Werdok	24438	September 2021
8th	KeelsDB	24438	April 2022
10th	Kibachiyo	24403	April 2022

Could you do me a huge favor? Please accept my invite so that I can get free giftsCopy my code: 265661296

[Part 3]
The new knight approached the base of the wet ladder and began to climb. He reached halfway and stopped to listen above. The thunderstorm roared its fury, and the Blackfish was already speaking.
“What kind of knight threatens a pregnant woman?” Ser Tully voiced his rhetorical question.
“We did not know she was pregnant. She fooled us with her sister. But I am one that follows the orders of his liege lord.”
“You mean the Lannister one that killed his king once? Or the other Frey one that killed his other king too? Or the dead lord who killed Dornish babes? How do the princes of Dorne feel about you cheap-honor Lannisters?”
“You were the ones that rebel against the crown.”
“And it was the Kingslayer that threw Bran Stark out the window in a time of peace! At his own home! Do the Lannisters enjoy killing children and murdering unarmed people at dinner?”
“He is my liege lord.”
“Aye, and you seem like someone who knows his role and shuts his mouth. Do you want to be remembered for the rest of time as the knight that cleans up after his shit? ‘Here lies Ser Forley Prester, the legend that wipes the Goldenhand’s ass,’ will be written on your tomb in gold. Too bad your grave-mark will forget the part where everyday you take his golden-hand, shine it up real nice, turn that piece of metal sideways and shove it up your own candy arse for pleasure!”
The men above laughed as a shriek of thunder rumbled not too far from the Rock.
“You seem like a charming man Ser Brynden, but we are not here to discuss the rights or wrongs of men, knights, lords, kings and princes who are far far away from here.”
“Well here in my garrison I have Ser Olyvar Frey, son to Walder Frey, and a loyalist to his King, Robb Stark. Please ask Ser Olyvar Frey which is right and which is shit?”
Olyvar realized the Blackfish is chatting to buy time for Jeyne to escape.
“Is he a knight now?” A familiar voice that sounded like Edwyn Frey asked. “How did that come to pass?”
“Kill the right people I suppose. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to now? What is your name my lord?”
“My name is Ed–“
“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS!”
Giggles tickled the rainy circular drain above Olyvar.
“And aye, I knighted him myself. And his Queen in the North even made him a new coat of arms to differentiate himself from his disgraceful family,” the Blackfish announced to Edwyn Frey.
“And how would I know what cloak he wears now?” Ser Forley’s voice continued.
“Fastened by Queen Stark herself, it’s the bridge of the twin towers with a river flowing underneath, colored Stark grey and Tully red & blue. But every one of my friends here are all championed by our Queen. Are any of you beloved by a queen?”
Ser Forley tried to counter, “A new sigil of water flowing underneath a bridge? Did he make the water flow himself? Is he a plumber?”
“Aye, he may be a plumber knight, but you got shit for honors.”
“My honor is in tact.”
“Was it in tact when you abandoned your army at the Battle of the Camps? Claiming that you have honor is like claiming turtles can grow wings and fly. My plumber knight has more honor than your shit!”
Ser Forley paused … and then exulted, “Will this plumber be cleaning up my shit later?” Quiet chuckles whispered from the higher balconies.
The Blackfish retaliates, “As long as you acknowledge your honor as shit, he will.”
Loud laughter filled the air, but with Olyvar hiding in the hole of the floor, he could not tell if it was from his brothers, from his foes or both. Alive or facing death, one should know better not to trade japes with the Blackfish.
“Enough!” yelled Ser Forley. “You are clearly out manned down there at this courtyard! At least three of my men to one of yours! AND I have the high ground! So I won’t say it again, drop your weapons and I will let your men live!”
“Do you take me for a motley fool? You just don’t want us to loose back when you shoot your crossbows at us. You Lannisters cannot win in a fair fight against us if we are armed, but you men sure do a good job of killing defenseless people and children. And I will not give you that pleasure!”
“I do not know what you heard, but that is not entirely true.”
“Not entirely true? Do you Lannisters fondle the children first before you kill them? Do you give the children a good sniff before you cook them like Mad Danelle Lothson? Mother have mercy!” Ser Brynden teased.
“Enough! I will let your men live if you drop your weapons! I swear it on my hon-“
“We shit on your honor! Are there no true knights among you lot? You men following this shit knight’s shitty order, do you not have any honor yourselves? To chase after and kill a woman who is in labor? To kill a babe? Our king—”
“OUR CHOSEN KING!” Lord Galbart Glover’s voice thundered in before the Blackfish continued.
“—chose to execute his own kin and bannerman for butchering children … Lannister children! Frey children! But your knight here serves men without honor. Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer! Lord Walder Frey the Guestslayer! Lord Roose Bolton the Turncloak! COWARDS! Men who serves hospitality with bloodshed beneath their roofs and massacre innocents! Will you continue to serve these false knights and false men? Are you not fathers, nor aspire to be fathers some day? Well serve your CHOSEN lord’s bidding and be cursed! A predator of children is no lord of mine!” Ser Brynden Blackfish Tully spat and thunder boomed. “The gods will never forgive that, the slaughter at the Twins, the murder, the treason, the mutiny!”
Ser Forley began to scream louder, “You call it what you want! You’re down there, we’re up here! You came into the wrong damn castle Ser!”
“Stand fast brothers!” Ser Tully alerted.
“Gods damn this, I am telling you this one last time. Order your men to drop their weapons to the deck.”
“So you could parade us as prisoners before executing us? I cannot give that order,” defied the Blackfish.
“I am not going to repeat that order!”
“I WILL NOT GIVE THAT ORDER!” Thunder boomed again.
“WHAT IN SEVEN HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU? THIS IS USELESS!”
“STAND FAST!”
“ONE LAST TIME! ORDER YOUR MEN TO –“
“Ser Forley!” an unfamiliar voice called. “Queen Stark and her group are spotted. They are escaping on a rowboat at sea below. They appear to be heading west,” the watchman said.
Edwyn Frey’s voice commanded, “Archers, to the western edge! Kill them! Kill them all!!”
“BROTHERS! Kill the watcher first and anyone on that western edge!” the Blackfish thundered in the order.
A quick shoosh was heard above and a cry of pain immediately sounded from the west, as a body thumped and squished onto the lower muddy ground.
And suddenly the air was filled with it, as the thunderstorm raged on.
Shoosh shoosh shooosh shooosh shoosh ahhhhhh ahhhhh shoooosh ahhhh shooooshhh shoosh boom doom boom doom boom doom shooosh shooosh ahhhhhhh boom doom boom!
The heavens exploded from above, illuminating Olyvar’s drain instant after instant. Men were heard screaming and dying in agony. Whether or not it was his brothers or his foes, Olyvar couldn’t tell. He caught a glimpse of three bolts speeding above his small hole in different directions, and knew there were a hundred more he could not see. The enemy has the high-ground, Olyvar remembered, all my brothers are probably dying. He was unsure whether to descend down or ascend up the ladder into the chaos. He started to tear up, the cold rain still soaking his face as lightning continued to flashed and thundered through the pit above him.
“GOOSE!!!” Leo’s voice screamed. No!
“LEO TAKE COVER!”
“KEEP LOOSING BRO—AHHHHH!”
“FATHER!!”
“BROTHER, NO!!”
“TO THE WEST! LOOSE! LOOSE! LOOSE! PROTECT YOUR QUEEN!!!”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!”
Men were still crying up there, along with the bass of the approaching storm, blending with the streak of arrows and bolts hitting stone, mud and flesh. Still clung to his ladder, Olyvar looked down cowardly as a teardrop fell off his face. It landed on Alesander.
“You fool, what are you doing here? You left the rowboat?”
“I came back to fight.”
“You are no fighter, you are a singer. Leave here. Escape into the tunnels and save yourself my brother.”
He hesitated to answer, his own tears trickling down. “Aye, I will. And when I leave here, I’ll sing about what has happened today, what is still happening above us.” The screams were not stopping. Bolts, arrows and curses could still be heard flying above. Alesander moved towards a fissure in the cavern wall, spying to the west. “The Queen should be far out of harm’s way. The winds are kind, and the bolts are missing its mark away from the LionsJape.” He walked back to him. “Come with me Olyvar if you want to live.”
“Soon. But not yet. I need to hold this ladder. Leave my brother. Sing about this and immortalize our sacrifice.”
“Don’t go.” He grabbed Olyvar’s leg.
“Just let go of me!” Olyvar winched free.
“If you can escape, escape. I’ll fly away now. Farewell my honorable brother.”
“Wait!” Olyvar almost forgot. “Do you know what it is?”
His brother smiled a smile that Olyvar will never forget. “We have a Stark princess.” His footsteps faded into echoes as Alesander descended into the darkness of the tunnels.
But Olyvar began the climb in his. The hole above was gaping wider with each slow step up, ready to swallow him whole. Olyvar trembled. Besides the flashes of lightning, he could not see what was going on, but he could feel it in the air. He can taste the rain from above. He can hear the music of defiance to House Lannister, the sounds of arrows and loud screams drowning into silence. He can even smell it too. The smell of the Rock cooked with the salt of the sea, the iron of his brothers’ blood, the piss & stool of honorable dead men, staining & stinking the courtyard of Tywin Lannister’s home, leaving Casterly Rock an empire of shit.
He stood on the one rung that exposed his head just above the ground. Bodies. Brothers’ bodies and bolts everywhere. Rain and blood soak the mud, and fading cries of pain filled his ears. He saw the Queen’s uncle and master schemer of this plan, Ser Rolph Spicer, had a bolt in his eye as he died by the kitchen doors. The Seashell Knight was lifeless with his face first in the middle of the mud near Olyvar’s pit. Donal with bolts to his shoulder, stomach, and legs was on one knee shouting & cursing as he continued to loose arrows from three quivers as his brothers Raff & Mikkal laid dead beside him. Lord Glover had two bolts in him and took another in the chest. He paced backwards and fell over the parapet into the sea. A bolt was stuck on Goose’s neck, as he and Leo rested motionless together at the foot of a column, sharing a single bolt that shot through their hearts. The shield that Leo had held up was decorated with a dozen bolts, but it was too late for the other ones that got through.
Olyvar’s soul ached in agony, the clutch of his hand shaking as he clung onto the ladder. A small pile of feathered Lannister men had fallen from the western balcony and onto the courtyard. But he could not feel the victory in it … not now, nor not yet, perhaps never. The rest of his brothers Olyvar could not see from his ladder, but he spotted a few arrows still loosing up to the second floor behind cover, still fighting back. It is so few. Many more bolts were still shooting down from the top. Crossbowmen hid as they reloaded, popping up to release before ducking again.
He spotted Ser Brynden Tully the Blackfish crawling towards him, needled like a red porcupine blowfish. “Olyvar!” He hooted bluntly. “Why are you still here?” Olyvar’s heart quenched at the sight of the blood of Riverrun; his pink life flowing in a thin river and draining out towards his ladder. The water-downed blood reached Olyvar’s fingers. He wanted to help but did not know how, nor know the words. He offered his hand and Ser Tully held it. “Did she make it out to sea?”
“Yes Ser, she should be safe,” Olyvar prayed.
“So, do we have a prince or a princess? Or one of each? Heh!”
“Do not get greedy Ser,” Olyvar jested. “We have a she-wolf.”
The Blackfish smiled a hard smile with blood filling his mouth. “Good, they should be safer this way. And I hope she takes after her fierce grandmother.”
“Which one? Lady Catelyn Tully?”
“Of course heh. That would be a great granddaughter name for our storm-born she-pup … Catelyn,” the Blackfish joked.
Olyvar smiled while Ser Tully reciprocated a red one. “I like the name Adara.”
“Adara? That sounds like a wonderful name. Where did that come from?” Ser Tully asked, tearing and bleeding.
“It was Captain Samullu’s mother’s name.”
“Aye, that is a terrific name. Princess Adara Stark. Tell that to our Queen Jeyne that I concur to the name choice, pass that final message of mine. Now fly along Ser Olyvar, escape here, reunite with your Queen and protect your family. There is nothing left to do here but die, so fly! Let the divine swift winds of winter push Adara to safety. You have King Robb’s spirit within you. The babe does not have a father nor Grey Wind, so you must keep her safe.”
“We are all her fathers,” Olyvar declared.
The Blackfish grinned, knowing Olyvar probably out teased him in his final moments. “No … a band of fathers brothers? That would make us a band of uncles.” He chuckled bloodily.
Olyvar laughed and teared a drop. “That was a very clever. Just don’t tell Lady Mormont.”
“Don’t worry fellow Uncle, I won’t.”
“It has been an honor fighting by your side, Ser Uncle Brynden Tully, the great Blackfish.”
“It has been an honor living by yours, Ser Uncle Plumber Knight,” the legend replied.
He watched the knight’s life wash away, his last breath tasting the rains of Casterly Rock. The legendary Ser Brynden’s last words were for me. Wells flooded in Olyvar’s eyes, beginning to blind. He lets go of his hand.
He takes a few steps down the ladder, and then suddenly stops. What honor is this? Leaving my brothers and my commander like this? Am I a little cowardly rat of a ratty family, hiding in a tunnel? Or am I a brave knight?
The thunder and rain continued, but the arrows have stopped. Nothing but silence, only stares if Olyvar had to guess. His brothers were all dead. I need to get up. One step up and he suddenly stopped again. No, I need to escape and protect my Queen, does that make me a coward?
He checked his pocket and made sure his letter to his father sat below his heart. It was still there. Olyvar’s grip on the rung was firm and quivering.
To flee or not to flee? That is the riddle.
“Soldiers! To the lower floor! Grab their bows and quivers. Get down that ladder, find a boat, chase Queen Stark and kill them! Kill them all!” Edwyn Frey’s voice ordered.
Well, that made answering the riddle a lot easier.
Ser Olyvar Frey ascended from the pit of his ladder, his arms pulling, legs pushing, up and up into the chaos. The thunderstorm loomed above as his soul was escaping into the hole that was gaping wider with every step. He was ready.
At the ground level, he stood up. Cold rain and warm tears danced down his face, his cloak whipping in the air to the winds, his heart and fists began to fill with fiery rage. From up here, he can see the full horror of the slaughter. Brothers with bolts. Was this the same scene of my King’s death? Before he could ponder any further, he unsheathed Honor from his back, the sword was singing off its scabbard just as a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky … its twin mirrored off the steel’s reflection, the blade alive with blinding light for an instant.
Ser Olyvar counted the ill-fitted armored and shield-less men as they came pouring out from the kitchen doors at his level. Two, three, four, five, six … seven. Thin white stripes splits the sky. His heart was thumping and rumbling to the same beat of the thunderstorm that was mumbling in every distance.
I’m going to fight them all, no soldier in any Seven Kingdom army can hold me back!
The distance between the first unarmed man closed. His shocked face eyed Ser Olyvar’s new twin tower sigil on his cloak. Confused, he began to slow down, but Olyvar sped up. He greeted him with a deep slash, ripping him off as the skies flashed again. He darted forward to the next man, allowing the first one to take his time dying behind his back.
The second reached for his sword but was too slow to the draw. Honor found the front of the pink man’s chest and the rear of his back. For a heartbeat, the bloody front half of the exposed steel glowed damped red, while the clean side sparkled in purple. Olyvar pulled back his sword after a twist, and the soldier dropped to his knees to the boom of thunder.
The third drew his sword halfway before Olyvar swung at his head as his steel electrified, emitting blinding light to his eyes. He smelled Honor up close with his nose, as a gash ran from ear to ear while teeth and tongue exploded in the air. Olyvar paid him no more mind.
The fourth with panicked eyes was just a boy. He successfully drew his weapon from his belt and lifted above his head a short wooden stick. A flute? He stared up at his own wind pipe as his sword rested in his scabbard untouched. Between his legs, his breeches began to darken more with moisture, as the rest of his body was frozen like ice. A fLuke? It doesn’t matter. The Plumber Knight began to raise Honor high. The boy cried out, “Mother have mer—“.
“No,” Olyvar cuts him off, his voice was cold as stones. “I am not your mother.” Honor fell in a bright silvery-blue arc as the force of the blade severs the soldier’s right stick-bearing wrist, and splits the skull & brains underneath. Ser Olyvar Frey kicked off the mayhaps-fourth-corpse as its limp body slid from his red wet steel.
The fifth one was ready with his sword, as the sixth and seventh began pincering around Ser Olyvar with theirs. The rain began pouring heavily, cleansing the blood and brains off Honor, ready to shine again.
Olyvar’s wits returned from his blind rage, and began backing up calmly before they could surround him. The rear of his heel tapped a fallen shield that once belong to one of his brothers. Olyvar grabbed it instinctively and raised it up. “Come on you apes! Do you want to live forever? Come at me then!” No one came forward to answer the riddle, so Ser Olyvar went to them.
He charged at the one on his right as Honor slashed and flashed, but the soldier jolted backwards avoiding the swing. The shifty swordsman slipped on the surface with his hop and fell face-first into the mud. The other two took their chances when Olyvar swung and missed. He caught the cut of the left soldier on his shield, as the middle fighter aimed high. To the ground, the knight ducked under, saving his head. The middle slugger lost his balance at his empty decapitating slice, and a crouching Olyvar stroke savagely at his knees in a splash of red and bright purple. He fell face-first too, as the other soldier on his left began hacking at the wooden shield that Olly held up. Doonk! Doonk! Doonk! Before his challenger could swing a fifth time, Olyvar Frey on one knee whirled the apex of his shield viciously at the man’s wrist and sent the sword flying from his hand. Without hesitation, the Plumber Knight stabbed upwards from crotch to brains as the steel surprised the man with shock. Olyvar stares into the white of his eyes as they reflected a flash of lightning. The eyeballs then slowly rolled up into the back of his head. He unsheathed Honor downward from the dead man, as blood and shit fell like loose stool to the ground.
The other fighter with no knees rolled around to face up before he could drown in the mud. He was crying and screaming on the ground. “Nooooo!” But the Plumber Knight jumped on him without mercy. He tried to dart and evade, but forgot he had no knees to push from. Olyvar’s feet stomped the man’s stomach as he thunder-slammed the edge of his shield to kiss his opponent’s mouth, silencing him forever.
The first armed man that dodged his death finally got up from his struggles with the slippery ground, only to meet at it again. Soaking in mud, he began to bull-rush Olyvar, trying to stab or slash an opening with his sword. Olyvar dashed towards him in squishing strides, and took his charging strike at his Brother’s shield as he stepped aside. The former squire of Robb Stark, Olly, instantly planted his foot and twirled. His Queen’s wet cloak spun and smacked his opponent’s head. Suddenly the Plumber Knight had the enemy’s rear and naked. He lifted his King’s sword up, pointing down with both his hands on the grip. Ser Olyvar and thunder roared together as Honor brightly stabbed from above into the mudman’s back with the flash and fury of the gods. “AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
He lifted his sword back up as the seventh corpse fell to the ground, face-first again. Suddenly a mosquito buzzed from behind his ear and a short wooden stick skidded off the flat stone-path in front of him. He then felt a bite in his back, lost a breath and saw another wooden rod. But this one was lodged in his right breast. Red blood slowly began to seep from his black scaled boiled-leather armor as he grunted in pain. He reached for the stick trying to push it backwards from where it came from. Quickly he felt the pain again as he saw another bolt stab the front of his stomach while his Brother’s shield slid off from this left forearm. The third one struck the side of his left thigh, sending Ser Olyvar to the ground on one knee. He braced on his King’s sword to keep him from falling flat.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Ser Forley Prester ordered.
Cold rain danced on his face with the warm tears he tried to hide, his cape was flapping in the wind, and his heart was thumping quicker in unison to the beat & the flash of the storm. Ser Olyvar Frey, you honorable fool, why did you rush in? You can’t help yourself falling in love with bloody vengeance for your fallen brothers and King? For an instant, lightning popped again above the Rock and thunder rolled. You should have taken your time killing them as they descended down your pit, instead of you going up the ladder to their chaos. Frey blood, -no … blood of Roses By another name welled from the bolts that had punched him. He had known nothing half gallant and half stupid at the same time for what he just did. Or at least you could have flown away, such a fool! You should of just beat it. No one wanted to be defeated like this. Why did you have to show off how funky strong your fighting skills were? At this point, it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or who’s right … you should of just beat it!
Ser Forley Prester spoke from his balcony above. “You must be the Plumber Knight that the Blackfish talked about, judging by the sigil on your cape. A traitor to your own family. But for the honor of your lord grandfather, let us pass and I will let the maester do his job to save you. Or would it please you Ser, if you wanted some more bolts?”
More? Olyvar twisted his mouth in defying silence, his gruesome wounds spitting out blood. He had a job that he promised to do. He must rescue his pregnant Queen. Little did he know, he had to rescue a princess from this castle too. We all died for Robb’s little girl, there was no more to ask of them. Did these uncles succeed for her safety? He turned around to the west to see as far as his eyes could see into the sun setting sea. Her boat was far enough from any archers, and soon it would be too dark for a chase. The thought brought him joy. Thank the gods for this swift divine wind. We did our duty.
Impatient for a reply, the shit knight said, “I will not ask again. Knight to knight. Let us pass. We need to take back the Queen and her unborn son. I will bring them no harm, you have my word. Drop your sword, bend the knee like you mean it, let us pass … and I will tell Lord Walder Frey what an honorable warrior and a great grandson you are.”
That offer was a lie, a conjurer’s cheap trick. They would just humiliate and shame him before executing him for treason. That was not the song he wanted, not for his despicable old father. Olyvar would rather die sword in hand to the tune of another. He wanted Alesander’s song about the Motherfunker, Ser Brynden “Blackfish” Tully, his real brothers and the band of uncles. And he had one last shot, one last opportunity, to seize everything he ever wanted here. In this one moment, can I still capture it? Or will I let it slip? His palms were bloody, knees weak, arms were heavy … but the Queen and Princess are safe. Mother’s mercy. He was nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready to drop bombs. But he had forgotten what he wrote down in his father’s letter, as the crowds above goes so loud. He opens his mouth but the words won’t come out. He is choking. How? Everyone was joking now.
“Your luck has run out. The time’s up, it is over SER Olyvar. Bow.”
No. I refuse to BOW Ser. And I cannot die yet. There is something I still need to do. Both hands on hilt and pommel, he pushes himself up with Honor, surrounded by the doom above. He can feel his life leaving him. The skies blurred between light and dark, white and grey, with the black slowly creeping in.
“It’s a girl,” Uncle Olyvar said gently as he thought about his princess niece. The Plumber Knight then roared a roar that would put any craven into tears. “AND NO! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Honor rose and fell, the pointy end of his King’s sword squishing the blood soaked mud and crunching the rocks underneath.
KABOOOOOOOMMMM!!!
Instantly, lightning and thunder erupted above them at the loudest exploding caliber of the evenfall, blinding the sights of men and gods alike.
Uhoooooooooo! boom doom boom doom boom doom
Suddenly drums were beating, and trumpets were blasting from the east. Lord Gawen Westerling’s diversion! But they’ve come too late to rescue Olyvar and his brothers. The enemy did not divert to their last jape yet … their silent scared eyes still on the dying Plumber Knight. They began to reload their crossbows. This is my moment. The things I do for love, but I’m sorry Jeyne, I can’t do that. I can no longer keep my promise. Robb was waiting and I can finally rest again. We three will meet again together some day, but not today, he thought.
The band of drums, trumpets and thunderstorm blended into a sweet sad song that Olyvar wanted. This music is for me, and I will lose myself in it.
Charging up his final energy into his wounded lungs, he began to scream again.
“OUR QUEEN— ” A howl of blood cuts him off from finishing what he meant to say … our Family is safe.
“OUR KING—” A pool of iron filled and choked him before he could declare … we have done our Duty.
Still standing, he dips his chin low to empty his mouth, coughing out his mother’s Rosby blood. He needs to say his final words loud and clear. After the last spoon of blood poured down, he snapped his chin up towards the heavens and reality … ready for the gravity. With all the weight of his life, he pressed his King’s sword deeper into the Rock as the Plumber Knight thundered a roar, “OUR HONORRRRR!!!”
From below, Ser Olyvar of the disgraced House Frey faced off to the sad conflicted look of Ser Forley Prester with his garrison of archers beside him. The darkest gloom of the grey stormclouds had arrived and hovered above them, wet and heavy. The gods want their vengeance for the Red Wedding, he thought. The skies of Casterly Rock began to blacken with the rain of bolts and arrows. The only thing that could be seen is the single golden teardrop of the shit knight, reflected by the last light of the setting western sun.
BOOM!
Thank you everyone for reading! Thank you George for helping me with your clue!

[Part 1]
My king. The sad memories faded into blurred flashbacks.
Olyvar cherished the sweet time as his grace’s squire. Though two years older, it made no matter. A warrior king was training Olyvar the way of knighthood, almost any boy’s dream. He remembered on slow days, Robb Stark would spend time with him, teaching the art of the long sword and shield. He can still remember the cloudy day at the Crag’s courtyard and his Northern accent as he swung his blade at the squire. “Keep your shield up Olyvar. Keep it up.”
“It’s too heavy.” Olyvar replied as Robb swung on.
“If it wasn’t heavy, it wouldn’t stop a sword. So get it up.”
They sparred and sparred in the courtyard. Robb Stark was dancing with him, hilts in hands. After he knocked Olyvar to the dirt for the twentieth time, he lifted him back up.
“Come, drive at me.” Robb then grabbed Olyvar gently by the back of his neck. “Look Olly, keep your shield up or I’ll ring your head like a bell.”
Olyvar never forgot that moment, his Grace’s right-hand touch, the way Robb looked into his eyes and called him ‘Olly’. No one has ever called him that and he liked it very much. They continued to dance. Rain began to fall, turning dirt into mud. Olyvar darted at him. Robb stepped aside, deflecting the stab off his shield and twirled around forward in a natural motion, his cloak spinning in the air. Before Olyvar knew it, Robb had his rear, his sword ready to thrust or slash any part of him. He glanced back and knew he was lost. The dance paused there and Olyvar turned around to meet Robb’s beautiful blue eyes. He could melt in them.
“You had me your Grace.”
“Come Olly, it’s your turn.” A winter wind came blowing in from across the sea. A breeze lingered there, brushed Robb’s auburn hair. “Now, dance with me!”
It almost felt like a sin to be as excited as Olly was at that moment.
“I’ll drive to you now. Try to do what I just did. In mud like this, don’t forget to plant your foot before each movement. And remember, you have to keep your shield up.”
As Olyvar and Robb got into their positions, his older half-nephew Ser Ryman Frey suddenly appeared and intervened. He grabbed Olyvar like a little green boy and pulled him towards the exit. NO! Olyvar’s word caught in his mouth.
Robb spoke up for him. “What are you doing? Olyvar is my squire and a grown man. He can do what he wants and speaks for himself.”
“My grandfather has declared a suspension of your alliance with House Frey,” Ryman said. “You have broken a sacred vow. If you would not have his daughter or granddaughter as your queen, you certainly cannot have his son as your squire.”
Robb was expecting Olyvar to say something, but the squire froze. More Frey guardsmen came in and dragged him away from the courtyard, his heels lifeless on the ground, leaving twin mud tracks on his departure. Robb stared at him sweet, sad, and silent. A bolt of lightning flashed across the rainy skies, its reflection off the King’s sword blinding Olyvar. That was the last time he saw Robb alive.
When news of his King returning to the Twins for the wedding between Lord Edmure Tully and his sister Roslin, Olyvar could not contain his excitement, to hear the voice of his call.
Since that rainy courtyard day, Olyvar had been on his own for long enough. He hoped maybe Robb could show him again that dance that he loved. Maybe. Olyvar had been going through withdrawals. Not seeing his Grace was just too much. He could turn me on with the slightest touch. But since the Red Wedding, Olyvar’s courtyard has been cold and empty. Fuck anyone who judges me. He couldn’t see clearly now that Robb was forever gone. Olyvar was still blinded by Robb’s last light. He couldn’t sleep, still yearning for his touch. In his heart, rain constantly fell, drowning him in the nights. I was his squire, Olyvar cried as his soul twisted. And I failed him. I was the only one that night he could trust.
After the slaughter, Merrett Frey, a kin of his, greeted him as he released Olyvar from the dungeons. “I’m sorry Olyvar that we had to lock you up, Perwyn and Alesander too. But you must do your duty for your family. You are a Frey, a man of an honorable house. This stain left by Robb Stark and his bitch mother Catelyn Tully should not go unpunished. Lady Catelyn also killed Jinglebells. She even japed ‘a son for a son‘ to our Lord father as she slit his throat.”
A son for a son. Olyvar Frey looked at Merrett sullenly, his voice choking up, “I must go for a walk.” Olyvar walked and walked … passing the burnt tents, passing the dead soldiers with Northern and Riverland sigils sewn on their garments, and passing Grey Wind’s headless body. He was far enough from home, but he could still hear the cheap cheers of the Frey and Bolton soldiers.
He fell to his knees and began to cry. My king. My sweet king. Olyvar swore vengeance. Though he will never consider kinslaying as it was a curse among the gods, it would not stop him from facilitating others who seek revenge against his own family, the ones who were directly involved.
Suddenly at the side of the river, a dying man was crawling towards him. Soaked in water, mud and blood, he cried out in a ghastly voice “Olyvar!”
“Who, who are you?” Olyvar sprinted to aid and for recognition. “Raynald?” Without hesitation Olyvar replied, “My brother!” He placed himself under Raynald’s shoulder and lifted him up. “We need to find a maester.”
On the way back to camp, Olyvar and Raynald encountered two sentries of his Frey household guards, far from any other eyes can see.
“So what do you have here my Lord Olyvar?” one asked.
“A dying lone wolf? Let us put him out of his misery,” the other replied as they stared at Ser Raynald Westerling’s dampened seashell surcoat.
Olyvar lowered himself and laid Ser Raynald on the ground, and arose in a tone cold as stone. “No. Not a lone wolf.”
Olyvar unsheathed his sword and killed both Frey guards before they could reach their weapons. He then swapped Raynald’s wet Westerling clothing for one of the dead men, and found a maester.
Ser Raynald Westerling stayed with Olyvar at the Twins under disguise. He even trimmed off his brushy moustache. Weeks later after Ray had fully healed, he asked Olyvar to go with him to look for Maege Mormont and Galbart Glover at their secret hideout, as per the original plan before the wedding.
One night, Olyvar Frey simply walked out of the Twins again, this time with Ray. No one would care where Olyvar was going. Truth be told, his Frey family would be more content if more spawnlings of their lord father would leave the castle to find their own destiny, especially if they were unlikely heirs deep behind the line of succession.
Aboard one of the Northern galleys floating outside of Seagard, the Seashell Knight had to explain how this son of Walder Frey earned his trust, as Lady Mormont held Olyvar by the throat with a dagger. The skin around her eyes had been raked and blackened with tears and nails, her teeth bit with furious anger. She had been like this for weeks. Olyvar stared at her face and he felt like he could die here and now, if that was what it meant for Lady Mormont to forgive him, as he knows no gold would ever substitute for her grief. “I am sorry about your daughter Dacey. I lost my brother too. Benfred was a good man, I swear to you by all the gods old and new, that he did not have a part in the slaughter. Benfred would have done everything he could to grab an innocent woman like Dacey, and bring her safe from harm.” Olyvar meant it.
Mormont sheathed her dagger, her hands still shaking. “I’ll kill them all! Anyone who was a part of this!”
“No.” Olyvar replied. “We have to get the girls back. And then you can kill them all.”
At the siege of Riverrun, Olyvar Frey freely roamed Ryman’s uncoordinated camp. No one cared. One night alone, he swam across the moat and climbed up the castle with spikes. Only thirty feet up, the Tully guards had heard him clanking and aimed their crossbows from above. “Identify yourself!”
He whispered, “I am Olyvar Frey, son of Walder Frey, former squire to his King, Robb Stark. I come unarmed and offer myself as a hostage. I know the Blackfish, please let him know I am here.”
“Stay where you are.”
Olyvar clung to the castle’s wall half way down to death and half way up to forgiveness. Finally Ser Brynden Tully appeared and told Olyvar to come up quietly. As Olyvar threw himself over the parapet and onto the floor, the Blackfish kicked away his spikes and immediately kneed his body to the ground, holding a dagger at his throat. Shit, not again! Damn this mayhaps, why was I unblessed to be born a Frey?
“What are you doing here, Olyvar Frey?” Ser Tully demanded.
Olyvar told them the truth and handed him Lady Maege’s letter from a waterproof compartment in his garment. The letter was coded with secret words that he and she only knew. The Blackfish cracked the seal, unrolled the parchment and read. Afterwards he released the grip from the bottom and the message curled up on its own, eager to protect the secrets.
“The paper curls, at least you didn’t try to deceive me with the age of the parchment.” He then asked Olyvar, “So, you killed some of your own men did you?”
“To save Ser Westerling, yes.” The Blackfish looked at his eyes and nodded in approval. “May I see her now?” Olyvar inquired.
The Tully guards led Olyvar to her room. Some left the area, but others stayed and watched, still suspicious of the unarmed Frey. She was in her solar, knitting her needle works. He fell down to one knee towards his niece-in-law (by Olyvar’s brother-in-law, Lord Edmure Tully), “My Queen.”
“Olyvar!” Without a hint of hesitation or mistrust, she dropped her needle, ran towards him, and wrapped her loose skinny arms strongly under his’. She poured her heart, soul and grief-filled life into a Rose By the name of Olyvar Frey. He reciprocated, placing his arms around her shoulders as Jeyne Westerling-Stark continued to hold tight. Her orange sized breasts pushed against his chest, as the Queen’s chestnut mop of brown hair sat below Olyvar’s clean-shaven chin.
“Robb.” It was all she needed to say as they shared a sob. Nothing hurt more than that moment when he shared the same pain with Jeyne. Olyvar dipped his head to hers, their salty tears finally uniting and slowly dancing together as their faces pressed cheek to cheek.
“He is in the heavens now, I believe, singing from above.” Olyvar prayed. “He will be waiting for us. No doubt we will see him again some day, but we must make him wait.”
“I miss him so much,” Jeyne cried. She was always cheerful with Olyvar since they first met. Though he was curious whether she truly loved Robb or just wanted to be a queen, she has repeatedly been kind to him, so sweet. She never intervened when Robb trained Olyvar at swordplay and he was grateful for that. When they wed, Olyvar knew Robb could never be his brother, but Jeyne did not seem to mind letting him continue to squire beside her much younger brother, Rollam Westerling. Robb had allowed Olyvar to protect the queen sometimes, along with the other household guards, though he was still training at arms. Olyvar and Jeyne would talk constantly, mostly about their King. Even when Jeyne rambles about him, she would always shy away from talking about Robb’s bed manners. But Olyvar insisted he did not mind hearing it. Jeyne felt like a sister to him, just as much or more as Roslin.
“I miss him too,” Olyvar replied. “Did you really love him?”
She cried a little bit louder and squeezed Olyvar even harder. “With all my heart.”
Olyvar wanted to confess too, but he could not do it here, not with everyone watching. He only hoped Jeyne would ask him the same, and she did. “Did you really love him, Olyvar?”
He tightened his grip on Jeyne’s shoulders. “More than you ever know.”
She gently reached for his hands and lowered them. “Olyvar, you were his squire. He is gone now. But you still have a duty to us. You must protect us. We must never separate again. Promise me Olyvar. Promise me.”
“No. I cannot. Not yet. I must leave you, just this one last time, for your safety and your family’s.”
“You are part of my family,” the Queen proclaimed. Tears rolled down again, their hands still held together at their hips.
“I need to leave Riverrun tonight. And I promise you, we will reunite again and I will keep you safe.”
They talked for hours about the good times, the horror, and what the future lies. They talked about Robb, crying to the sadness of him, exulting at his bravery and his glories, laughing at the silly juvenile things the teenager king did to entertain them, and about falling in love with him all over again. And then they cried some more.
Later on that night, Ser Brynden visited Jeyne and Olyvar, with Lady Eleyna and Lady Sybell watching. “Olyvar, you were the King’s squire and though he is no longer with us, you are still owed a knighthood. Let the gods curse me if I ever knighted a Frey, but you are no Frey I have ever known. What you are about to do would be considered treason to your family.”
“But my lord father was treasonous to my King. I do not get to choose my father or which family I was born into. But here right now, is the family I want to be with.”
“Will you honor your new family? Will you honor your duty to your late King, his Queen and his House, the Starks of Winterfell?”
“I do,” Olyvar replied with pride.
The Blackfish unsheathed his sword, the blade alive with moonlight gleaming from the window balcony. “Shit I think I’m doing this wrong. I was supposed to say that later. Anyways, kneel Olyvar Frey.”
Olyvar got to one knee as Queen Stark and all the others watched. Ser Brynden Tully, the legendary warrior Blackfish, placed the flat of his sword on Olyvar’s shoulder.
“I charge you to be brave and … aww shit the knighting words escape me. I’m embarrassing myself. Anyways um. Family! Honor! Duty!” He placed the blade on the other shoulder. “Shit, I forgot the rest of the speech. Forgive me. But Olyvar of House Frey, I name you a knight! Now rise!”
And arose the new knight stood, and proud he was. King Robb Stark could have never fulfilled his promise of a knighthood, but it was his father that took it away from him. But being knighted by the Blackfish was more than anything Olyvar wanted right now, besides keeping Queen Jeyne and his family safe. To him, it was forgiveness.
The Queen approached him with a longsword in scabbard, flat on both hands. “Our late King had a gift for you Ser Olyvar Frey, at least he would have wanted you to have it.”
Before Ser Olyvar received it, he already knew what it was. Robb’s sword. “No, I cannot. I am unworthy of this gift, his Grace’s sword.”
“This is King Robb Stark’s sword, and I am his Queen wife. I charge you to protect your family with his own sword.”
Queen Jeyne Stark made an offer that Ser Olyvar cannot refuse. He took the sword from her forgiving hands.
“What will you call it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“A name. Robb never named his sword. But a good sword should have a good name.”
“I was told by my half-brothers that only cun–, I mean only women name their swords. I will let you name it, my Grace. How should we honor our late King Robb Stark?”
“It is honor,” Jeyne replied.
Confused, Olyvar asked, “What is honor?”
“A sword. This sword.”
Before the sun had dawned, Ser Olyvar Frey with Honor slung on his back, climbed down the castle walls with rope, swam under the moat again, and departed the birthplace of his King, Robb Stark, as a knight.
He returned to the Twins, keeping his knighthood a secret. When Riverrun had fallen to Ser Jaime Lannister, Edmure Tully had agreed to be a prisoner at Casterly Rock. Roslin Tully volunteered to join her husband, giving them a chance to raise a family together, even as hostages. Olyvar, their brother Perwyn and half-nephew Alesander all agreed to escort Lady Tully to the Westerlands. Although they told their half-family they would take the land-route for their journey; Olyvar, Perwyn, Alesander and Roslin had a different Frey destiny in mind. After the Kingslayer’s threat to Roslin’s unborn child, there was no day they would ever stay at Casterly Rock nor return to the Twins. They departed for the coast and reunited with Ser Brynden Tully, Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Galbart Glover aboard the Motherfunker.
Before Ser Brynden escaped Riverrun alone, he and Lord Tully reviewed all their options during Edmure’s short visit. An escape on land had many risks to be recaptured or killed, but at sea it was far fewer … and having a faster ship helped. They would allow Edmure and Jeyne to be peacefully escorted by their captors to Casterly Rock as hostages, only to be rescued from the shoreline. Lady Sybell Spicer swore her brother Ser Rolph would lead the way inside the caves. “Honor, not honors,” were House Westerling’s words. And Robb Stark showed more honor to Lady Sybell’s family than any of the other Westermen could. King Robb made her daughter a Queen, while King Tommen gifted Ser Rolph with the cursed ruins of Castamere from the notorious Lannister song. This honor was more of an insult than a reward.
One night aboard the Motherfunker, Olyvar took out a fresh new flat parchment to write a letter that was meant for his father. He held his feathered quill upright, but did not know how to start. He was fidgeting as he stared up around his cabin. He began to tap the pointy end of the quill and pricked his other hand by chance. Frey blood began to trickle from the wound along with a stinging pain. Cashing in on the moment, he then knew what to say. He dipped the blood smeared quill into the black inkpot, and began to pour his soul & anger onto the kin he no longer wanted.
Father, I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that is real. The needle tears a hole. This old familiar family sting. I try to forget it all the way. But I remember everything. I find myself asking … “What have I become? My sweetest King? Will everyone I love go away in the end?” And Father, you can have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make it hurt. If I could start again, many miles back at home that night. To save my King, I would sacrifice myself. I would find a way. Your son Olyvar.
He rolled the parchment and laid a tablespoon of wax from his tallow candle at the edge. Olyvar pressed the button with his bleeding thumb, filling the stamp in a marble of white, red and pink; sealing it with his own blood. He placed the rolled parchment in his breast pocket, hoping to leave it somewhere in Casterly Rock and eventually reaching his father’s hands.
On the deck of the Motherfunker a few nights before … crewmen, Riverlands and Northern loyalists sang, drank, and cheered to the music of the masterplan. Though most wanted to spill blood to avenge the Red Wedding, humiliating their enemies would be the sweeter revenge: the story that sings in songs. But not all were there for vengeance. Some were just there for the adventure.
The Captain of the Motherfunker was there for the honor of joining their song. He wanted to look into the eyes of the lion, be a part of the thrill of the fight, rising up against our rivals. He also owed Ser Rolph Spicer a favor from their long smuggling history together at sea. If he helped rescue his niece Jeyne from the rocky castle, he would consider the debt paid, and the Black Sparrow was happy to oblige.
“So we are here to rescue this princess? No?” Samullu spoke in the broken Common Tongue
“No, not a princess, she is a queen,” Olyvar chatted.
“In the Summer Isles, a princess and a widowed queen is the same person. My father was king, but he died when I was a babe. My princess mother was the one who raised me after my uncle took the throne. I loved my mother. I named my swanship for her after she died a few years ago.”
“Motherfunker?” Olyvar asked. “What is a funker?”
“Where I am from, fighting and dancing is called the same thing. We call it funk. We funk to fight, we funk to dance, and we also funk to love. And the skill of our funk we always inherit from our mother’s side. I got it from my mama.” The black single-eyed captain pleaded. “Yo got yo from yo mama too. ‘Motherfunker’ is just a homage to one’s mother for giving us this art of our body’s motions.”
Olyvar never knew his mother, but he was very intrigued to hear more about Samullu’s and their culture. They chatted for quite a while.
Olyvar thanked him for helping them. But Samullu insisted it was the right thing to do after hearing about the horrors of the Red Wedding. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers! And yo will know I am the Captain when I lay my vengeance upon thee!”
Olyvar never knew the Black Sparrow was so pious to the gods of avengers.
Sharing rum together, Olyvar sung to him about his own story in depth. Captain Black Sparrow was impressed about his journey so far and he gave Olyvar a small jar of dirt. “This is soil from my empire back in the Summer Isle. I have a whole barrel of it to remind me of home. Here, take this other small gift as well.” He then took out a bird’s feather, long as a flute, bright and colorful. “We Summer Isle people have feathered cloaks, yo see it on all of us. But feathers like this one were meant for some of the bravest and baddest motherfunkers out there. I want yo to take it Ser Olyvar. Let it be yo warrior’s funk.”
Olyvar took it with his hand and gave it a warm stare. The feather was colored like a fading rainbow top to bottom, but the stem was yellow like a lemon. “Thank you.” The gifts were quite odd. By value it was not much, but it seemed like it meant a lot to the exiled prince, the type of gifts worth remembering.
“So what do yo need besides a miracle?” Samullu asked.
“Weapons. Bows and arrows. Lots of arrows.” Olyvar was serious.
“Aye, and I have a lot. Yo know, no one has ever done anything like what yo and the Blackfish’s men are about to do.”
“And that is why it will work.”
The plan was to allow Lord Edmure Tully and Queen Jeyne Stark to safely travel to Casterly Rock unmolested, under the command of Ser Forley Prester and his four hundred men. Lord Gawen Westerling and his son Rollam were to return to the Crag, but Lady Sybell was to stay with Jeyne, maintaining what deceptions she can conjure. Her bluff with Ser Jaime Lannister worked, earning the slightest trust from them before their escape at Casterly Rock. An attempt to rescue them on their path down the River Road would invite the Lannisters to execute the hostages on the spot, failing the objective’s purpose. To stealthily hunt down each soldier one by one would have proven even then, a mission of the impossible. Stirring fear in the hearts of the Lannister soldiers was the only solution, the effective psychological weapon. Ser Prester’s men have been haunted by the ghosts of the Brotherhood without Banners throughout the Riverlands, and the Blackfish would use that to his advantage. With the help of their fastest horse, Bubbles, mounted by Justin Smallister, a distant cousin to House Mallister of Seagard, he would tie empty nooses on trees ahead of Ser Forley’s route. The hope of the hoax would keep the Lannisters on edge, making it difficult to rest. Only when they reached the castle of Casterly Rock, they would drop their guards down, thinking the hard part was over. But on the exact evenfall on the day of their arrival, Lord Gawen Westerling and our small land forces, hidden in the eastern woods outside, would sound the trumpets and drums, drawing the weary soldiers to arms again. But the Blackfish was to infiltrate Casterly Rock from the western sea. Ser Rolph Spicer, our secret agent inside, will bond with Jeyne’s guards, drinking with them throughout their journey. Only on the hour of the escape, Ser Spicer would drug the guards’ ale, allowing them to fall asleep during the diversionary music. The Blackfish and his squad would provide armed escort, if needed. Ser Spicer would also help them navigate inside the caves, rescuing his niece Jeyne and their family back to the Motherfunker. By then, it would be too dark for the Lannisters to give chase into the ocean, if they even realized Queen Stark had flown off.
“I need twenty good men,” the Blackfish had demanded. A few hundreds of the remaining Stark loyalists and outlaws gathered at the docks, where the Motherfunker was anchored.
“And one more woman too!” the She-Bear crone proclaimed.
The men laughed in agreement as Ser Brynden continued. “I need volunteers only. Soldiers who want this fate to fuck them from behind in their arses! For the twenty one of us, we will be in harm’s way, make no mistake about it. I do not expect us to be discovered, but if we were, our escape will not be easy like our brothers working the diversion in the woods. I need men quick on their feet, proficient with the bow, and skilled at close-quarter hand-to-hand combat. Who are my brave men that will be knocking on the Lannister’s doors?”
Ser Olyvar Frey thundered in first and raised his hand. Jeyne’s words echoed in his thoughts, Promise me Olyvar, promise me.
Alesander Frey surprised him. “No you fool! You are not a skilled fighter. Put your hand down!” Olyvar told his nephew.
“I am a grown man, and I will not miss this adventure for nothing,” Alesander protested to his uncle.
“You are just a singer.”
“Then I want to be a witness to this great deed and be the first singer of our new song.”
Olyvar could not stop his brother & nephew from doing something so stupid.
Ser Raynald Westerling the Seashell Knight raised his hand too, eager to save his sisters Jeyne and Eleyna, and his mother Sybell.
Others began to join. Some had their reasons, some had their vengeance, some just wanted to try something new.
Fess stepped up. He was a long lost uncle to Ser Addam Marbrand after a lengthy voyage at sea. But Ser Addam refused to believe him, denying him a small chunk of land near Ashemark that Fess was entitled to own. He called his uncle an imposter and casted him out of the region. Fess swore he was a Marbrand, and swore he would unleash a storm on their household if they did not give his piece of land back. To the future of reclaiming his name by shaming theirs, Fess Marbrand was recruited into our efforts against the Lannisters and their bannermen.
The Summer Islander, Ben, and his Westerosi-born son, Benjen, were farmers from the Neck. Years ago, Lord Rickard Stark had welcomed the immigrant and his wife, granting them farm lands to flourish in. They grew rice in the marsh and exported it from White Harbor. They were so grateful to House Stark that they quite frankly named their son “Benjen” for Lord Stark’s youngest child of similar age. Since then, their hard earned work with their rough black hands in the cold had paid off in prosperity. After being widowed, Ben and his son ran the farm, just the two of them … until a few Ironborn men took Moat Cailin and all their harvest this past year. Their will and pride refused to let them take it again. So instead of growing new rice, they let it wither away and left the land … trapping the jaws of the Ironborn to hunger. Now Ben and Benjen were reborn into Ser Brynden’s band, for the honor of House Stark. “With great honor comes a great ass whooping!” Ben had declared.
Jess and Jory were two brothers that served House Westerling as guards at the Crag, personally protecting the Westerling sisters, Jeyne and Eleyna. They had watched them grow up since birth. Participating in their rescue was their duty, a duty they took without hesitation for the girls who were like nieces to them.
Phyl was a crewmate of royal blood on the Motherfunker. Back on another Summer Isle kingdom, his older king brother passed away as his young prince nephew took fresh rule. After Phyl forbade his nephew-king to order an attack on a rival neighboring island, he screamed at him, “You are not my father!” and flew out of the throne room, slamming its double doors. Soon after, the boy-king ordered for his uncle’s exile. Free like a bird, Phyl flew away himself to a ship with his friend, the Black Sparrow, looking for a new adventure.
Sam, June, and Rico were all hard loyal Tully soldiers that were ready to follow the Blackfish to the end of the world. Sam used to be a tall fat leviathan of a man, until one day June told Sam, “You never had the making of a first-class athlete like Rico here.” From then on, Sam, offended, lost several stones over the years as the three served patriotically together to House Tully. Now tall, lean and muscular, Sam was a force not to be reckoned with. They nicknamed him Sam the Shredder, but for shredding his fat as his body was now packed with muscular meat.
The hedge knight Ser Barnabus the Goose volunteered along with his new squire Leo, a boy of fourteen, whom he met that same day. Goose was a tall man, big shoulders, wide hips with greying blond hair. Though he grew up as an orphan, Ser Barnabus often boasted about being the grandson of some legendary tall hedge knight that he never chanced to meet. The other orphans used to laugh at him, calling him the Useless Goose. But ever since he suited up in his knightly armor decades ago, Ser Barnabus assured he was a useful Goose helping the small folks around the Riverlands. Olyvar wondered if Barnabus was his real name, or if he was even a knight.
Leo’s older brothers wanted to join the action as well … so Mikkal, Raff, and Donal stepped forward. Their uncle Scrooge, a man in his fifties, will chip in his services too. The four brothers and uncle were known as the Pissa family. They once owned a tavern serving their mother’s recipe of baked thin crispy bread, spun circular into a flat pie, served with tomato sauce and cheese above. Their uncle Scrooge improved his sister’s recipe by adding sliced duck sausages on top of the cheese, and charging customers extra for the option. Olyvar and the men on the Motherfunker had sampled and enjoyed the cuisine they baked aboard. Captain Samullu claimed that pissa was indeed a tasty dish, and suggested adding slices of pineapples on top of it too. The Pissa brothers gave Samullu Jaqenssen a cold stare as if the gesture was treason to the recipe. Back when they owned the tavern with their mother, the family often boasted about their food to the point where their competitors despised them. Their opponents would try to mimic cooking the same dish, but others would complain it tasted no different than bread. Afraid of losing their revenue, they insulted their mother’s crispy dish by calling it “pissa,” slandering it by saying it tasted like piss. But the brothers took the name their enemies gave them and wore it like armor, never allowing it to hurt them. Raff returned their insult by calling their adversary’s food being something that comes out of a cow’s bung hole. That humiliation stuck. For a while, men and women from all over the Riverlands continued to rallied in long lines to the Pissa tavern for a delicious slice of pissa. Sadly one day, the Mountain and his men came to destroy their tavern during the war, and took their mother. They never saw her again. Despite the sad drama, the Pissa family were a cheerful bunch, save for their pessimistic uncle. Olyvar could only hope they would find their mother safe and sound some day.
On the first day aboard the Motherfunker, Leo had never been on a ship his entire life. He bolted to the stern of the galley, stood on the middle rail with his arms spread out and screamed, “I’m the king of the world!”
Olyvar had to grab the blond teen down before he fell overboard. “Nice try Leo,” Olyvar said. “But you are too lowborn to be royalty. You are better off marrying a queen to be a king, or at least start with a princess.”
Ser Barnabus the Goose appeared and offered his help. He was in need of a squire for some reason, and Leo was quite eager. “Leo, I’m going to teach you how to live.” Goose swung his arm around the teenager’s neck and rested it there. “You want to be a king and win the ladies? Learn how to squire for a knight first. Unchain and fetch me my stallion from the docks, I’ll show you a trick. I’ll show you how to ride it on this rocking ship!” Leo did as he was ordered.
“And when will I ever need that skill?” Leo questioned as he brought the horse up to the deck from the ramp.
“What was it you were looking for again on this journey? Your destiny? Your death?” Goose mounted.
“Naked princesses,” Leo said.
“Well this move would make any maiden, royal or lowborn, shed their clothes off for you.” The knight pulled down the reins as the stallion stood tall on its two hind legs, looking like a work of art meant for eternal statues of the gods.
Samullu appeared and asked Leo, “Is that Goose on a horse? On my boat? Why is Goose on a horse on my boat?!” The stallion came down, hooves thundering the top of the deck.
“Aye Captain, Ser Goose was teaching me how to pick up women.”
“Shiitt Leo, that’s all you had to say.” Samullu wrapped his right arm around the neck of the youth and offered his counsel, his left hand danced in the air as he spoke to solidify his argument. “If yo want naked women, fuck land. Don’t be a knight. Be a captain of a galley. The best pick up line to catch any woman yo can, is ‘I own a ship’.” Samullu raised his bearded chin. “After this mission is over, come with me and we’ll sail the seas. Meet women from all over the world. And they love a captain. Do yo concur? Leo, each lady is just a flower, another rose by another name that smell just as sweet, waiting to be plucked.”
Goose winced at the word and protested. “The only maids you meet sailing seas are mermaids. Don’t be fooled by the Black Sparrow. Some of them may be pretty on the top half, but you won’t like what they got below. It probably stinks down there too. But the captain doesn’t mind, he seems to enjoy bedding mermaids!”
Whether sea, air or land … the Black Sparrow or Goose … Leo will probably have to fly with one of them after the mission, Olyvar thought.
The night before the rescue, the raiders and the crewmen drunkenly sang and cheered to music, rum, ale and pissa. Drowning in the glory of their task on the morrow, they reminisce about the harsh archery and lethal weapons training Lord Glover had given them over the past weeks back on land … while questioning how large Lady Mormont’s sacs truly were. Lady Roslin Tully, approached everyone and asked if they would write their names on the book she held. “It’s for the memories,” she said. They all did. A signature on each page for each man and Maege. Some drew their own personal coat of arms. When it was Olyvar’s turn, he hesitated about sketching the two towers. He wanted to separate himself from the murderous lore of House Frey. He decided to draw his towers, with a Stark wolf running on top of the bridge, and a Tully trout jumping below it. He signed his name, Ser Olyvar of House Frey, squire to the late King Robb Stark, knighted by Ser Brynden Tully.
He wondered if he will be written into history as a great knight some day. A knight that could not save his king, Olyvar thought sadly. He would not be the only one though. Word had travelled for Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, and his gallant assault at Dragonstone. He was gravely wounded, but no word on this brave knight’s final fate. Like Olyvar, Ser Loras had failed to protect his first King, Renly Baratheon, a man that the Knight of Flower was rumored to have truly loved. Though his King was gone, he continued to be bathe in the glory of battle. Despite being on the opposing side of the war, Ser Olyvar would be gay if he had the chance to meet Ser Loras, if he still lives, chatting with him about the kings they loved and lost.
Later on that night, Captain Samullu Jaqenssen shared a drunken game of cvyasse with Ser Barnabus for a golden dragon. When Goose doubled down after his first loss, he fell again, owing the Black Sparrow a pair of golden dragons by the end of it. When Samullu demanded Goose to pay up his reward immediately, Goose pretended not to understand his loose Summer Isle accent, giving him a wild chase.
“Wat?”
“Yo loose Goose, yo owe me the gold,” the Captain demanded in his queer Common Tongue.
“Wat?”
“The gold yo fool. The gold! Yo pay me.”
“Wat?”
“Wat country yo from?”
“Wat?”
“Do they not speak the Common Tongue in Wat?”
“Wat?”
“Common Tongue mother Goose!”
“Wat?”
“Say wat again! I dare yo, I double dare yo! I’ll throw yo overboard off the Motherfunker!”
Goose paused for a moment, until his pride could not resist. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?” Goose said ‘what‘ so many times, it sounded like he was quacking, each one louder than before. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?”
In a nick of fury, Samullu Jaqenssen flipped over the cyvasse table, stood up and drew his short blade. His remaining good eye raged like a storm, as steam seeped through the black leather patch of the other. “Yo cold ass honking Goose! Yo son o’ a whore! Yo bandit! I will gut yo from balls to brains to see what gooses is made of. I better find yo sacs golden before I take yo skull to gild gold! Either way, I will have my gold from yo!”
Goose suddenly comprehended everything, stood up with all his height and threatened. “Goodness gracious, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Go ahead and try, but you will only find below me great balls of fire!” He grabbed his own crotch and pumped it once into the air. “And after your failed attempt, I will claw out your last remaining eye, leaving you blind for the rest of your sorry life!”
The others flocked towards the scene, holding the two back as they inched towards each other.
Jess tried to stop them. “Gods, have mercy!”
Sam the Shredder intervened as well. “That is enough! I want you two to stop!”
Jory said, “Cut it out!”
“Will yo shut up!” screamed Phyl, who had hustled a wager on the game.
Mikkal grabbed the drunken Goose, threw him to the floor, and told him to just beat it.
At the end, they all just laugh it off like all drunk men do. Smiling, spilling ale out of their cups, retching out into the sea the rum they drank, before drinking some more again. They were having one last good time before the mission. But today they had a job to do.
The twenty men, Lady Maege, and Ser Rolph continued up the paths in the lightless caves of Casterly Rock, huffing and puffing, but still silent as much as they could hold. One loud word at the wrong place at the wrong time may be their doom. In single file, the group followed Ser Spicer’s point with one lit torch. The stench was terrible and the dampness made it worse. Guarding the rear, Olyvar’s eyes were clouded in darkness at times where the torchlight was too far ahead to shine back. He relied on Ser Goose in front of him to lead the way, as Goose relied on Leo for the same.
[Part 3]

The Winds of Winter
Prologue
A storm was coming, but that was not part of the plan.
To the east, dark grey clouds and flashes of lightning were seen afar while thunder could be heard mumbling its rage in the distance. Here where they stood, fierce sea-chilled winds blew from the clear skies of the west. Two weather fronts were on course for a collision, and caught in between was a giant rock that mountains above the shoreline, a hard place. The old natural stonewalls of Casterly Rock were half bathed in gold from the even-falling sun, while the other hid in the shadow of the approaching storm. And soon enough, everything will be clouded in black.
The sound of the strong waves smacking into the face of the stony cliffs can be felt from a mile away, as it was no different from the ones crashing into the wooden hull of their galley. Above their rocking swanship, three tall wooden masts sported simple dark black sails, filled with winds from the west, speeding their eastern course towards the home of House Lannister, ready to hug the coastline tight, fast and dangerous.
The Summer Isle captain at the helm shouted his accented announcement, “Awww shittt! Everyone get yo shields and weapons ready. It’s about to go down! Adventurers and avengers, assemble up to the deck of Motherfunker. Be sharp and stay on yo toes! We’re running this so let’s go!”
“With me to the boats!” the legendary stern knight Ser Brynden Tully called out as his fighting men rallied at the starboard rear of their ship, emerging from the cabins below.
“We all chose to be here. If any man wants to back down now, then do so quickly. I would not die in that man’s company. We elected to do this task for honor and for justice. Some of us are here for vengeance and we may even chance to kill some of them. If so, you may enjoy your short moment of pleasure. But what I offer here is the IMMORTALITY of the songs and tales. And when it is all said & done as we return safely home, the singers will sing of this glorious day, our honorable deed, and their shame of a jape. And they will sing it from this day to the ending of the world, and we in it shall be remembered! We few, we brave few, we band of brothers. For he who shed blood with me today shall be my brother forever in song!”
A roar of cheer exploded in the air, loud and thunderous. As the ruckus died down, Lady Mormont proclaimed, “And a sister too!”
“Aye Maege,” said the Blackfish. “But we have always considered you as one of our brothers. Between your legs, your sacs are larger than most men, especially all the Lannister soldiers.”
“Well that is easy to say, all those Lannisters are a bunch of golden eunuchs!” Lady Mormont declared unlady like.
Laughter swept the deck.
The Summer Isle captain above shouted again and prayed, “Today is The Day, and the moment is upon us my friends. Thirty seconds until the drop zone lads! May the gods be with yo!”
On the starboard stern, three small rowboats hung out from the hull, hovering above the rough waves. Attached over the swanship’s parapet was a roped ladder, allowing the fighters to lower themselves down onto their watercrafts. Each one was designed to hold four pairs of oarsmen abreast, and a single coxswain to steer at the rear.
They were twenty good men and Maege. Each one scaled in black boiled leather armor, with a quiver of arrows slung on one back shoulder, and a Summer Isle goldenheart bow on the other. Most fighters had their own selection of close quarter combat weapons that sat on their belts while a round black-painted wooden shield rested at the center of their backs. They wore no sigils and smeared mud spots on their faces to mimic dark ghostly shadows for this stealthy task. They were lightly armored and had fewer weapons, as their goal required speed. If all goes to plan, they would not need any of them. They could accomplish this mission without a soul lost on either side. But this approaching storm was not part of the plan.
The Blackfish made one last heroic call on the deck of the Motherfunker, before he lowered himself on the ladder, “Come with me and take this song!”
Rico added to the cry, “Come on brothers! Do you want to live forever!?!”
They roared proudly again and began their descent as the Summer Isle crewmen assisted the Westerosi to the ropes, sharing firm ebony and ivory handshakes as they told them they will be back.
Ser Brynden Tully reached the rear rowboat LionsJape along with June, Jory, Jess, Fess, Ben and Benjen. Though it was the end boat, it will be the first to fly.
Aboard the middle boat WinterStorm was Lady Maege Mormont, and the other six oarsmen Phyl, Rico, Sam the Shredder, Ser Barnabus the Goose, Scrooge, and Queen Jeyne’s brother Ser Raynald Westerling.
Lord Galbart Glover commandeered the third boat BattleWolf, which hung closer to the center of the swanship. On it were the younger men Donal, Mikkal, Raff, Leo, and Alesander, all merely teenagers.
As he watched from above, Ser Olyvar Frey thought they were little dark turtles crawling down the ladders with their black shields slung on their backs. As the last turtle, Olyvar hugged & kissed his sister Roslin, and then their brother Perwyn. Ser Perwyn Frey was Lady Tully’s sworn shield, charged with her life’s protection, and her unborn child’s too. Though they were all Frey as family, Rosby blood thorns in their veins as well. We were all just sweet Roses By another name, a horrible name.
Olyvar descended. Alesander Frey was waiting for him adjacent to an empty seat on the boat. He was Olyvar’s nephew, but because they were of a similar age, Alesander felt more like a cousin to him, a cousin that felt more like a brother. He wondered what their mothers would have thought if they saw them there now. As Olyvar sat, he stretched his arms wide at the starboard-bow of BattleWolf and the brothers both grabbed an oar each. Alesander sang and japed, “Are you ready to fly this boat to the moon somehow?”
“Nothing is impossible!” Olyvar smiled.
Ser Olyvar Frey never thought he would be on this boat, absorbing the wrath of the big blue watery roads, rocking BattleWolf as it clung to Motherfunker. But his new knightly confidence was so high he could roar at the Drowned God to look at him and tell him to piss off. But he knew better and kept his silence. With his Frey luck, he believed his corpse would be bedding with mermaids down under the sea if he ever cursed the Drowned God aloud.
The owner of the swanship Motherfunker was an exiled prince of the Summer Isles, a big man with a short black beard, shiny bald head and a dark patch over his left eye that he can’t see through. He was Captain Samullu Jaqenssen, but notoriously called the Black Sparrow … though Olyvar had never heard of him until recently. He and his crew were the only sailors that would assist them in their cause, hypnotized to be a part of their upcoming famous Westerosi song. He was to help navigate his galley at high speeds hugging the rocky coast of the Westerlands. With the three rowboats hung to the side of Motherfunker, it would be hard for the sentries on top of the Rock to spot from above. The Motherfunker stayed far away from the coastline to only emerge near their objective at the time of attack. With a single swanship with plain black sails, the Black Sparrow hoped that the Lannister watchmen would pay them no mind as a regular trading galley on its way to Lannisport or wherever, instead of a vessel for an amphibious assault on their castle. And the stronger the winds and the faster the ship, the window of time to be exposed was much shorter. “They had the need for speed, and the speed needed the wind,” Goose had said the night before. The gods have blessed them with strong winds now. They were to come with the sun setting at their backs in the west, blinding any coastal lookout. Because they were cursed with this approaching storm, the plan changed and they had to depart earlier. Olyvar prayed that this would not compromise the mission. Only time will tell.
Racing onto the storm and nearing the rising cliffs, the Captain spun his ship quickly to a southern course and gave the crewmen the signal to dismount. “Ahhhhhhhhh-ah Ahhhhhhhh-ah!”
“Get ready to push!” the Blackfish commanded.
Each oarsman pressed the tip of their long wooden stick onto the hull of the galley, ready to push off. The Summer Isle crewmen began severing the connections of the mothership and its three rowboats. Single-handed axes swung as LionsJape pushed itself off, the first of three. The rowboat plummeted and the waters swallowed it before spitting it back out just as quick. After allowing itself to lose in Motherfunker’s wake, the oarsmen redirected the bow towards the rocks at the Blackfish’s orders.
The WinterStorm followed right after with Lady Maege’s commands, “Push lads! Push! Push!” as it dropped.
Now it was BattleWolf’s turn. “Gods damn it, I’m too old for this shit,” Lord Glover said as he raised a gloved hand and swung it down, giving the signal to cut. At the main deck, the crewmen swung their axes, gleaming gold in the western sunlight as the oarsmen pushed off. For a heartbeat, the fall had taken Olyvar’s breath away as Lord Glover’s BattleWolf floated in the air. Are we flying? Are we on a dragon? His rowboat slammed into the water, splashing chilled wet droplets inside the boat and out. His hair of short black curls flew and fell, dampening at the plunge. The collision almost knocked Olyvar and the men overboard, but they hung on. The Motherfunker left them with a white salty wake as it headed south. Lord Glover then commanded the starboard men to pull their oars, aiming towards WinterStorm. Olyvar pulled. Once aligned, both sides of BattleWolf began to rev hard. The men were howling and roaring with each tension, trying to evade this dangerous zone of being spotted.
Since the Red Wedding and the death of his beloved King, Robb Stark, Olyvar could not sleep. Grief, anger, vengeance, insomnia and drowsiness took him over the days and nights that felt like half-dreams. But the crashing kiss of the water dive had re-woken Olyvar in shock, as he realized what they were about to do was no fantasy he had ever known. Nothing can stop us now, this is really happening. His heart was pounding to the rhythm of the oars and he wanted to scream his battle cry. He could still hear Jaqenssen the Black Sparrow sounding his siren “Ahhhhhhhh-ah Ahhhhhhh-ah!”
We are brothers loyal to the King in the North, the land of ice and snow. We serve Riverrun and Winterfell, where the hot springs flow. And now the divine winds of the gods had driven our mothership to the Westerlands. To fight for honor, the North will sing and the West will cry. Casterly Rock … Winter is Coming! On we sweep with threshing oars, our only goal will be the western shore!
As Olyvar’s oar rose and fell, he looked up to the windows of Casterly Rock’s tall stony towers, searching for the signaling candle light. But it could not be seen this early. Only when the sun was fully set as planned, this candle would replace it as the guiding light. They rowed by rocks and rocks and more rocks. Seagulls flew in spheres above them, chasing one another. The sun still hung in the air, slowly falling to splash onto the western horizon of the Sunset Sea. They then rowed by a courtyard that just floated on the earth forty feet above the sea’s surface. Suddenly on the other side of their boat, they eyed a whale skimming off the glimmering golden ocean. The boys of the vulnerable BattleWolf did not say a word as the monstrous water-beast swam the opposite direction just twenty yards away from them, paying them no mind. It was a good thing I did not curse the Drowned God as I was going to earlier.
Olyvar, Alesander, Leo, Mikkal, Raff and Donal were seated on Galbart Glover’s rowboat, rowing to Galbart Glover’s commands, “Row! Row! Row your boats you son o’ whores!” and taking in Galbart Glover’s cold stare as he eyed the two Freys specifically when he said it. Olyvar’s arms began to tire, but this was not the place to show weakness to his brothers. So he pulled on while keeping their rowboat as close to the stony walls as possible to avoid detection from above.
They trailed the Lady Bear while following the Blackfish. Soon after, Ser Brynden Tully had found his mark and grounded LionsJape onto a small beach. His men exited, flipped the rowboat above them and dashed forty yards straight toward the rocky edge, where a small barred cave was fitted at the base. Underneath the rusted iron, a thin valley of brown watery slush stank & trickled into the sand & sea. Everyone knew what that was when they agreed to participate in the assault. The Blackfish was told back at Riverrun about a sewer path inside Casterly Rock that allowed all the shit and piss to drain out to the ocean. This tiny hole by the foot of the mountain was all and everything for the mission.
When the sprinting men reached the end with their boat, they dropped it at the skirt and pressed themselves against the wall. The façade was conveniently arched outwards as it ascended, making it difficult to be sighted from above. With the waves muffling the noise of speech, any of them can speak freely outside at sea level. From the cliffs above, their human conversations below would only sound like ghostly whispers. No casual listener should be alerted to such. But hearing and seeing are different things, and they must not be seen.
WinterStorm and BattleWolf soon followed. As Olyvar departed BattleWolf, he cringed at the soreness of his arms that the work had left him. His arms will have to ache again as his squad lifted the rowboat above their heads. They stormed towards the barred entrance, with bow and quiver slung on each shoulder, a turtle shell shield at the center of his back. While the others carried shorter lighter personal weapons, Olyvar was equipped with a longsword that once belonged to his King, Robb Stark.
They dropped off BattleWolf when they reached the wall, waiting for a way in. Ten brothers on one side of the cave, and eleven on the other. The closest ones to the door had their small axes and weapons drawn along with their shields, while the further ones notched an arrow onto their bow. Olyvar had his Summer Isle goldenheart bow ready. The entrance was small, the same size as their black shields, guarding the realm of Casterly Rock, and they continued to wait.
This thunderstorm was coming, and it was not part of the plan. It was the Blackfish’s decision to leave Motherfunker earlier before the storm surges would flood the sewers of Casterly Rock. Their forty yard dash from the beach to the gate may be twenty yards if they arrived an hour later … and there may be no more exit by the time they escape back. But Stark loyalists hidden in the woods outside of the castle were told of executing this assault at the exact evenfall of Queen Jeyne Stark’s arrival to Casterly Rock. The Lannister soldier escorts would be exhausted from their march and acquired a false sense of security when they reached the safe comforts of the castle. The Stark land forces led by Lord Gawen Westerling would create a mummer’s farce with trumpets and drums, sending the weary Lannisters to one side, as the Blackfish himself attacked the other from the sea. Evenfall of this day was the golden time to do this, but they arrived an hour too early. With the storm, Olyvar prayed that everyone else would adjust to the plan. He wondered if Lord Westerling would account for the storm surges. But it makes no difference now. They were here, and they cannot turn back.
Suddenly the rusted iron of the barred cave unlocked and swung open, creaking like a loud squealing rat. Emerged was a crouching older man with a short gray beard and a jaw squared like a mason spice jar. “Welcome to the Rock!” Ser Rolph Spicer declared.
Ser Brynden greeted him with a hug, “I’m so glad you came early, we would be sleeping with the fishes if you were late.”
“It was Edmure’s idea to leave early, he said the storm would flood the sewers, and we prayed you would come sooner too.”
“Like that damn Mill again, Edmure acting prematurely? That boy will never learn! Thank the Gods!”
They both chuckled and began entering through the gate. The others soon followed, ducking into the small hole and into the darkness.
Once inside the caves of Casterly Rock, Ser Rolph grabbed his torchlight and lifted it to the air, showing the brothers the vastness. The lobby was an open abyss where the ceiling was fifty feet high. The walls had multiple rocky openings naturally carved in, small and large. Some were wide enough to walk through. Inside were all shadows, saved the areas illuminated by golden sunlight spying in through each seldom hole or fissure. Where the flames can brighten, hard brown rocks glowed and flickered, as well as old metal tracks, mining carts, abandoned tools, ladders, rusty chains and the occasional plant roots that brewed in the darkness of the caves. The smell reeked. Olyvar was sure there would be no real gold here as it was probably mined out over the centuries. Only shit shits down here in the sewers and caves of Lord Tywin Lannister’s home, not gold, Olyvar thought. This was where Lann the Clever started his legend, swindling the Casterly residents out of the castle, cheating them. It was their turn now to write history, these archers from the sea facing off with their own modern Casterly ploy … accomplishing it without being seen, doing it as faceless warriors.
They followed Ser Rolph and his torchlight in single file, going deeper up into the caves, fitting in burrowed hallways that barely fit them, pursuing his decisions at each fork in the paths, squishing their feet on sluggish wet slopes and steps. The very first entrance they encountered required them to descend a few yards before climbing up the rest of the way. It was hundreds of feet in elevation that they must ascend to. At times, the way was lit well enough. But at other instants, the darkness blinds them, only facing the brother in front of them for their flight. I have promises to keep. And steps to go before I sleep. And steps to go before I sleep.
“By now the guards at the top of the Rock should be asleep after I spiced up their ale,” Ser Rolph Spicer said with a cheeky smile. “Before my sister Sybell married into House Westerling, I explored these parts of Casterly Rock in my youth as a smuggler, going up and down many times. Your legs will tire, no doubt about that. But you lads are years younger than I, and I better hear no complaints unless I am the first one to make it.”
“I’ll do my best,” young Leo announced for himself.
“Your best?” Ser Spicer questioned. “Losers whine about their best. Winners rescue crowned queens.”
“Lady Jeyne Westerling-Stark is THE crowned Queen,” Leo replied.
“Is that so?” Ser Rolph gave Leo a sarcastic look with a raised eyebrow, before continuing up the steps inside the Rock.
“I’ll decide the turns and I’ll establish the security checkpoints. There, we can rest for a moment. A few of you will be left there to guard the area as the others will continue to ascend. Those few will wait until we fall back. But remember, the journey down is far less exhausting. For now, let’s go up and up. Ser Olyvar Frey, would you take the honor of watching our rear?”
Ser Olyvar Frey. The name was still queer to him. As much as he liked the ‘Ser’ in his name, he would like to rid the “Frey” in the surname. He had been the most loyal squire a king could have asked for. He would have stayed with King Robb Stark to the end of the world, but his own blood tore that away from him. Olyvar was not blind though. His young king had made grave mistakes, more than Olyvar wanted to count. As much as he would have favored his sister Roslin to marry him, Olyvar knew you cannot choose the people you love. And Robb genuinely loved another, he hoped. Jeyne Westerling was just as sweet as Roslin. Olyvar would have stayed at Robb’s side as his brother-in-law, or some uncle-in-law by Lord Edmure Tully. Though by choosing Jeyne, it slighted Olyvar’s father Lord Walder Frey. But Seven Hells father, did you have to murder him? At my sister’s wedding feast? Under your own roof? Under my roof? Robb Stark was my king. He was brave and good, and Olyvar Frey loved him. And his soul was tortured in sleepless days and nights, knowing he shared the same blood as the murderers … knowing he could have stopped it if it was not for impulse. You are an honorable fool Olyvar. His father had told him of the treacherous plan the day before, but Olyvar cursed it aloud, defending Robb as it was still his duty. You should’ve been smart and played stupid with father. You could have informed Robb while you were still free, breaking this bad dream. Olyvar shouldn’t have tried to bargain with his father. He should have known he made up his mind a long while ago. Olyvar was imprisoned in the dungeons of the Twins during the Red Wedding. The gaolers were japing at him, “Go ahead, do your duty. Save your king!”
My king. The sad memories faded into blurred flashbacks.
[Part 2]

This made my Zaith'isk run pretty stress free, so I wanted to share it; the relevant build / equipment info is listed below:

1. Place your Tav in front of the Zaith'isk.
2. Place your 1st follower (Paladin) next to Tav.
3. Place your 2nd follower (Bard) nearby, and cast Combat Inspiration on Tav.
4. Activate your Paladin follower's Aura of Protection, then cast Bless.
5. Confirm that Tav now shows buffs for Aura of Protection, Combat Inspiration, and Bless (x2).
6. Tackle the Zaith'izk with impunity. May the Dice be in your favor!

Tav (or character you want to receive Awakened) (Bard, College of Valor)
Set STDEX/CON to 8
INT: 17 / WIS: 16 / CHA 15
Wield: Corellon's Grace (+2 to saving throws if not wearing armor)
Feat: Resilient (INT) Spell: Enhance Ability (for when Ghustil Stornugoss gets mad at you for breaking the machine
Follower 1 (Paladin, OOA)
CHA 17 (nothing else is relevant)
Feat: ASI +2 CHA or Resilient (CHA)
Activate Aura of Protection (+4 to saving throws)
Wield: Staff of Arcane Blessing
Follower 2 (Bard, College of Valor)
Cast/Use: Combat Inspiration