Producer: So, you have a video game for me?
Writer: Yes, sir, I do! It's a battle royale game called Fortnite.
Producer: Fork Knife? Is it a food-making game where you eat with a Fork and a Knife?
Writer: Well, No actually, sir, this is a shooter game where players are dropped onto an island where they must scavenge for weapons and resources inside people's homes while trying to be the last person standing.
Producer: Sounds a lot like that game PUBG.
Writer: Well, yes, it's Very similar to that.
Producer: So, Isn't that kind of a rip-off? Whats the point of making this game if its gonna be a Complete rip-off?
Writer: What if we give the player the ability to build stuff in the game?
Producer: Thats different enough. So how do we do the building in this Fork-knife game of yours?
Writer: Well, we add a building mechanic where players can gather materials and construct forts and other structures to defend themselves.
Producer: So, they can build in the middle of a fight?
Writer: They sure can!
Producer: Won't that make the combat complicated and kind of confusing?
Writer: Oh, definitely. Super confusing. And we're going to have this cartoony art style, so it's all bright and colorful.
Producer: Cartoony art style?
Writer: Yes, sir, we want to attract a younger audience, you know, kids and teenagers.
Producer: Really? And what about older players?
Writer: They'll probably play it too. Some might even play it so much while filming themselves sitting, eating, and drinking inside a room infront of a bunch of cameras to a bunch of digital people on some kind of streaming-platform out there. And some older players might even be so good that they can be placed inside a room with other players that are as good as them.
Producer: Okay, okay, But wait. Why would older players be interested in a game designed for kids?
Writer: Because it's free.
Producer: Oh, older people love free things.
Writer: And we’ll have these things called Emotes where players can dance and do fun gestures for no reason.
Producer: Why would they need that?
Writer: To taunt other players and express themselves, and making it easier for other players to get kills!
Producer: And we're sure kids will love this?
Writer: Oh, absolutely. They'll be flossing in no time.
Producer: What’s flossing?
Writer: It’s one of the dances that we’ll include in the game.
Producer: Ah, okay, and how will we make money?
Writer: Super easy, barely an inconvenience.
Producer: How come?
Writer: Microtransactions.
Producer: Microtransactions?
Writer*: Yeah, Microtransactions. Players can buy this thing called V-Bucks, which is our in-game currency, to get skins, emotes, and other cosmetic items.
Producer: So, none of these items give players a competitive advantage?
Writer: Nope, just cosmetics.
Producer: And people will spend real money on that?
Writer: Oh, they definitely will.
Producer: How are you so sure?
Writer: Because we’ll make it really cool and hard to resist. Plus, we'll create this thing called FOMO.
Producer: FOMO?
Writer: Fear of Missing Out. We’ll have limited-time items so players feel pressured to buy them before they're gone.
Producer: So, we’re going to exploit psychological weaknesses?
Writer: Oh, for sure.
Producer: Exploiting psychological weaknesses is tight! So, how will players get to the Island?
Writer: They’ll skydive from a flying bus.
Producer: A flying bus?
Writer: Yeah, we’ll call it the Battle Bus.
Producer: Why would a bus be flying?
Writer: Because it's fun.
Producer: But How does it fly tho?
Writer: Listen, sir, i'm gonna need you to get all the way off my back about why the Battle Bus can fly using a very big sketchy pop-able baloon but only moves one direction, okay.
Producer: Okay, let me get off of that thing.
Writer: Oh, and every few minutes, a storm will shrink the play area, forcing players into a smaller and smaller circle until one player remains.
Producer: Why would a storm do that?
Writer: To make the game faster and more intense.
Producer: But thats not--- never mind.
Writer: And we’ll have different game modes, including solo, duo, and squads, so players can team up with friends.
Producer: What if players don’t have friends?
Writer: Then they’ll be loners. Solo mode is perfect for that.
Producer: And how will we keep the game fresh?
Writer: We'll have seasonal updates with new themes, items, and challenges.
Producer: Seasonal updates?
Writer: Plus, we’ll add crossover events with popular franchises from all our child hoods we can think off.
Producer: Like what?
Writer: Well, i'm just gonna throw some names out there, just top of my head, *Marvel, Star Wars, DC, Avatar, Family Guy, TMNT, POTC, Rick and Morty, and a Whole bunch of other stuff.
Producer: So, we’re going to have superheroes and nerds fighting each other in a game where you can build forts and dance?
Writer: Exactly.
Producer: That sounds amazing!
Writer: Oh, it’s going to be super amazing.
Producer: And that's Fortnite. So, what do you think?
Writer: I think we’ll make billions.
Producer: We're gonna be rich!
Producer: Wow, wow, wow. Wow.
Producer: But wait, you forgot to say what’s the story behind this game?
Writer: Oh, right, well, the island is constantly changing and evolving. At first, there isn't much backstory, only younger and older players ACTIVELY hunting each other down and killing each other, but over time, we introduce a series of events and lore that shape the game's world.
Producer: Interesting. What kind of events and lore are we talking about?
Writer: Well, Each season, we add new story elements to the game. For example, there's this mysterious organization called "The Imagined Order" that's manipulating the island. Players uncover clues and secrets about them as the game progresses.
Producer: So, there are hidden stories and mysteries?
Writer: Exactly. One season, we had a massive meteor strike that changed the landscape. Another season, a giant iceberg crashed into the island, bringing new areas to explore. We also introduced a volcanic eruption that altered the terrain significantly.
Producer: Sounds like a lot of natural disasters.
Writer: Ye ye ye. But all these events tie into the overarching narrative. There's this powerful artifact called the Zero Point at the center of the island, and it's the source of all these changes.
Producer: What’s the Zero Point?
Writer: It's a mysterious energy source that can manipulate time and space. Different factions and characters try to control it, leading to conflicts and alliances.
Producer: Who are these characters?
Writer: We've introduced various characters over time, like Jonesy, who starts as a standard avatar but becomes central to the story. He’s sort of the player’s guide and gets involved in all the major events.
Producer: And these characters, they have backstories?
Writer: Yes, each character has their own backstory and motives. Some are heroes trying to save the island, others are villains seeking power. We add new characters regularly to keep things fresh and engaging.
Producer: How do players learn about all this?
Writer: Through in-game events, cutscenes, and quests. For instance, we might have a live event where something dramatic happens, like a giant robot fighting a monster. These events often change the map and advance the storyline.
Producer: Live events? How do those work?
Writer: At specific times, we host live events where players can participate or just watch something big unfold. These events are usually massive, with millions of players logging in to witness them.
Producer: That sounds like a logistical nightmare.
Writer: It can be, but it creates a shared experience that players love. It's a huge part of what keeps the community engaged.
Producer: So, the story is dynamic and ever-changing?
Writer: Exactly. We keep evolving the narrative with each season, adding new mysteries and plot twists. It's like an ongoing TV show where the players are part of the story.
Producer: And this keeps players coming back?
Writer: Absolutely. The evolving story and frequent updates make sure there's always something new to discover and experience.
Producer: Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.
Writer: We’ve tried to make it as immersive and engaging as possible. The story is just one part of what makes Fortnite a unique and exciting game.
Producer: Well, I’m sold. Let’s make this game!

The internet is a strange place, inadvertently designed to bring out the best and worst in people. People can be whoever or whatever they want to be. For predators and malignant narcissists and who live in their own delusions to begin with, it's like a hunting ground. They can create whatever persona they wish, fill their victims' heads with lies and half-truths that paint them out to be someone they are not, and by the time their victim actually meets them, it's too late - they've already created an image in their mind of this perfect person the narcissist has convinced them they are, and it usually takes time before the curtain comes down, the lies fall apart, and the mask breaks away.
I'm no saint, and I've learned my own tough lessons from the internet. I grew up under not-so-great circumstances, only getting 5 years of education before I turned 18 and was largely raised by a computer screen. Along the way, I catfished a woman in her mid-20's when I was 14-16 years old. It wasn't intentional at first, I told everyone that I was in my mid-20's and I worked as a bouncer at a bar in NYC. I never meant any harm, I was just raised by a computer and spent all my time alone playing MMOs and learned quickly that if I told people how old I was, they'd stop playing with me. So a bouncer seemed like a job I could bullshit about easily enough, and I was a big dude at 6'1 260lbs so I figured I could maybe pass it off as legit if it ever got hectic.
I started playing with this woman in her 20's and her husband frequently. We became friends fast, and soon we were virtually inseparable on the game. Her marriage ended up not working out, and after they separated she told me she had feelings for me. I should've admitted I wasn't who I said I was then, but I was young and dumb and she was the only real friend I had, so I kept up the ruse. Eventually I did come clean, and she broke it off with me not long after. We stayed friends, albeit with my heart hurting pretty bad, for a few months afterwards - until she met Jack.
When she first told me about Jack, he sounded like a great catch. He had his own IT business in Canada, was a couple years older but not by much, and she was infatuated with him. Obviously I was crushed and didn't handle it well, being a practically feral teenager at the time, so not long after they started getting serious she ghosted me altogether. I was around 17 at the time, and shit started going off the rails for me. After I got out of juvie, I started drinking heavily on a near-daily basis and selling and doing drugs. This led to a lot of pathetic, inebriated, desperate attempts to contact her and apologize for how I acted.
After months of being ignored, eventually grief and regret turned to anger, and finally acceptance. When the pain passed and I came to my senses a bit, I had an epiphany and realized that if I loved her as much as I thought I did, the best thing for both of us would be to let her go. I was a high school dropout with no job, selling drugs to get by. She had 2 kids, and what kind of life could I provide for them? She made the right choice, my age and the fact I made a grown woman fall in love with a teenager not withstanding, and as bad as it hurt I realized it was selfish of me not to accept the way things were and leave her alone, so I did.
10 years or so later, I had gotten my shit together. Worked my way up from cleaning dead shit out of swimming pools, to an entry level position at an environmental consulting firm, to a Project Manager at one of the largest firms in the field in the DC area. I'd met someone, got her pregnant, and for some reason I felt a pull to contact her again. Not to rekindle an old flame, but because she had been a tremendously positive influence on my life in a time where I had few. She was the first good thing I had in my life at a time when I was sleeping on old blankets on a hard floor in an abusive home, and what I'd held onto from our time together wasn't our romantic relationship, it was the best friend I'd ever had. And something made me want to tell her that all that work she put into getting my head right wasn't in vain, and I'd finally made it out of the gutter.
So I messaged her on Facebook, and to my surprise she actually responded. We started talking again, and soon it was back to every day. When my baby mama got back on drugs and turned abusive and was putting my daughter's life in jeopardy on a near-daily basis, she was the one who convinced me I could fight for custody - that I had to fight for custody. So I did, and I won, and I've had full custody of of my daughter since she was 6 months old and for the 10 years since.
But eventually we parted ways again. I'd started seeing someone, and part of me knew I couldn't commit to another woman while I was still carrying on with her. Our relationship had started turning romantic again, and she had dropped some hints about old Jack that would come to the forefront later, but she wasn't ready to leave him and I didn't want to be that guy, so I sent her a message explaining why we had to stop talking, apologized, and ghosted her.
7 more years went by after that night. The relationship I abandoned her for soured quickly when I found out that chick was a carbon copy of my baby mama, and I quit dating to focus on my career and raising my daughter. But on the long, 2+ hour commutes each way from work, I often found myself stuck pondering the "what ifs". What if I hadn't ghosted her? What if our age gap wasn't there, and we'd never had to split up to begin with? I knew in my soul I was never going to find someone like her again, but I made peace with it. I imagined her happy life, her kids with Jack, and convinced myself I made the right choice.
Then COVID hit, and near the start of it, I stumbled on a post on reddit about this dude who sent his high school sweetheart a message many years later apologizing for how he treated her and telling her how her presence impacted him, and I thought to myself, "Hey, I did that!". So I started writing a reply, and for the first time told the story of this girl and I. I'd never told a soul about what happened with us, not even my family or closest friends. Maybe it was the stigma of having an online relationship back in those days that carried over, or maybe it was just too personal to share with my friends or family. It got long, so eventually I just decided to start a new thread. When I was done, it was so long I figured no one would ever read it, but I hit submit anyway and put my phone down and got back to work.
Well, I was wrong. People did read it - a lot of people. Soon my phone started blowing up. Thousands of comments, hundreds of DMs, people offering me book deals and asking if they could have the rights for a screenplay or have me on their podcasts. It was fucking surreal, and being generally a private person who tries to fly under the rader, it got overwhelming fast. Eventually I reached out to her again on Facebook, warned her about what happened, and apologized for putting her business out there.
She didn't respond for a couple weeks, and when she did we started talking again almost immediately. And then in mid-April 2020, she told me that she needed to talk to me. She spilled everything, and told me exactly who Jack was. How he would hack into her devices to spy on her, threaten to kill her and her partner if she ever left him, say vile things to her and her daughters, calling the young girls cunts and bitches. How he alienated all her friends and family, and kept them all isolated in the house her parents bought them that he would rarely leave.
And I felt deceived too. All those years I'd convinced myself that she was happy, that she got together with Jack and was living the life she deserved. In reality, Jack intentionally got her pregnant not long after he flew out to her state the first time. He quickly moved into her house, and refused to work or provide not only for her kids or their kids, but for the other 3 children he abandoned in Australia and Canada who he had no relationship with, with 3 different women he victimized in the same manner. When she was 8 months pregnant with their first kid, she was working nights doing hospice care while he sat on his ass playing videogames all night and talking to his ex. In 17 years, this fucking loser with 7 kids by 4 women worked a grand total of 5 weeks, quit his job, claimed he got PTSD from the experience, and somehow manipulated his way into getting SSDI for it. They survived off SSDI and her parents' charity for years.
But Jack was reading all of this, because like I mentioned earlier, he was hacking her devices and watching us talk remotely. Jack knew the jig was up, and slowly started to unravel. She told him she wanted a divorce, and that she was not going to sever her friendship with me again. And he pretended to take that well, going as far as to try to befriend and manipulate me. He tried every trick to keep her he'd done for years - telling her he was going to get help and would change first, then when that failed he made suicide threats and somehow got his therapist to call her and tell her as long as she didn't leave him he wouldn't kill himself, and then he tried to intimidate her. Eventually he went off the rails completely and sexually assaulted her when he thought she was sleeping.
She called me from her parents' house crying the night it happened, and I convinced her to file a police report. She did, and a couple weeks later Jack got removed from the home, served with a protective order, and charged for sexual abuse. This of course did nothing to stop Jack - he broke into their house a couple days later when she and the kids were out to upload a folder of revenge porn to his Google Drive under the guise of wanting to drop off a cake for her birthday.
Then the stalking started. Jack would relentlessly message her all day and night on Facebook, switching between rage, trying to garner sympathy, convince her he would change, and threatening self-harm. We later found out via a cyber forensics report that he was hacking into the laptop she had taken with her while she hid at her parents' and had been so bold as to steal her Victim Impact Statement and send it to all his World of Warcraft buddies as a joke.
And he didn't just stalk her, he came for me too. Constant unauthorized attempts to access my accounts for everything from Windows to my bank, spam calls and emails - shit, the wormy little fuck even got his friends to stalk my social media and pretend to be strangers to gaslight me. I ignored all of it, and he got desperate enough to send me a lovely message attempting to extort and blackmail she and I, claiming he had "all my posts" but wouldn't do anything with them if I called him. The tipping point for me is when he subscribed to my small YouTube channel - which had nothing on it but 3 videos of my daughter. That veiled threat wasn't lost on me.
But Jack fucked up. I don't know if he thought his insane nonsense would scare me off, or if in his delusions he really thought he was the bad mother fucker he convinced himself he was, but Jack didn't know jack about me. I'm a crazy fuck too, and while he was sitting on his fat ass playing World of Warcraft all day every day for the past couple decades, I was selling drugs and hanging with some of the grimiest mother fuckers Baltimore had to offer. I've seen and experienced a lot of real violence outside a computer monitor, and the prospect of a violent resolution to this saga didn't phase me a whole lot. I'd spent years trying to be a better person and avoid conflict, but I sure as shit wasn't afraid of it either. Leading up to this point, I was already trying to calm myself down and talk myself off the ledge and not pack my guns and drive out there to keep watch until the police did their thing and put him away, which took a lot longer than it should have - this fucking guy violated his protective order 80 times in just a couple weeks.
So I called him, and he spent the next 26 minutes crying over the phone like a drunk little bitch, while I tried my best to be kind and to talk him off the ledge. And yes, I did record it, and yes it is hysterical listening to it now in hindsight, and yes I still have the recording. Anyway, I told him he was scaring the shit out of her and the kids, and he promised to leave us alone and I told him if he could chill the fuck out I would try to talk her into giving him more access to the kids. The next day, she got an email from her first ex-husband - Jack had reached out to him with a link to my reddit post trying to get help from him to come after me, which he promptly shut down and sent to her.
The next few weeks were terrifying as Jack descended further into madness and became more scared and desperate. He knew she was gone and not coming back, and he was facing real charges and real jail time, and while Jack is a fucking moron in a lot of ways, I'm sure he knew a fat, greasy computer nerd with a sex offense conviction wasn't going to have a good time in County. Jack was a murder-suicide waiting to happen, the police were doing nothing to stop his stalking, and I felt powerless to help her. Eventually after he sent her $50 over PayPal at 4:00am with what appeared to be a suicide note, I had enough. I called the DA's office, asked them why the fuck this was being allowed to happen, and promised them I'd been taking meticulous notes and if anything happened to her I would be taking it straight to the media. The DA told me if I was going to make threats the conversation was over, but sure enough he was finally arrested not long after.
Ironically we had remained platonic friends through most of this, but the shared experience of dealing with this psycho brought us closer together and things quickly changed. We knew he wasn't going to stop when he got out of jail, I felt responsible for her safety after my stupid reddit post started this chain of events that led to Jack's unraveling, and with the world seemingly coming apart during COVID, decided if we were ever going to meet it felt like it was now or never. So I booked a plane ticket across the country, spent a week with her and her family, and a few days after I came home she flew out to visit me and meet my family.
We went into it with no expectations. I fully accepted we might not click and our relationship would go back to being platonic. For my part, I just wanted the closure of finally meeting this person who had such a profound impact on my life before COVID mutated or something and killed us all.
But we did click, and the next two weeks were life-changing. I met and cooked for her entire extended family the day after I arrived, and it went well. While I was there I got her mom's email address, and after I went home I had an idea. I knew her parents had met in DC, so I emailed her mom and asked her for a list of places that were special to her, and she told me about the church her parents had met in. I asked her to keep our conversation secret so it would be a surprise, and she did.
So when she comes out to the east coast, I take her on a tour through DC and park the car a few blocks down the street from the church. As we're walking by, she notices the church and comments on how beautiful it is.
I keep it cool and respond, "Yeah, that's a pretty important place.".
She looks at me and says, "Oh? Why's that?".
"That's where your parents met.".
She audibly gasps, giddily bounces a bit, starts to cry, and we pulled down our masks (fuckin covid) and kiss. Her reaction is easily one of the greatest memories in my life. What I didn't know at the time, was that her parents had told her about that church since she and her siblings were kids. When the church changed denominations, the church took the angel statue off the top and brought it back to her home state, and her parents had taken them to see it a few times throughout her childhood.
Anyway, getting sidetracked here, the sappy love story stuff is a different story altogether.
A month after we met for the first time, I had quit my job, sold everything I couldn't fit in my sedan, and she flew back out and drove across the country with my daughter and I.
Sounds crazy as hell, and it was, but it worked out better than it should have. I got a good job making more than I did back home right away, her kids loved me, and my daughter loved her and adjusted to her new home fast. And by the time Jack got out of jail for felony cyberstalking, sexual abuse, and Intimidation of a Witness in a Domestic Violence case, we had cameras all over the house, and I had taught my fiancee how to shoot - which she quickly became better than me at.
But Jack's time in jail didn't slow him down, and the 2-10 year suspended sentence didn't deter him at all. As a matter of fact, on his first day out one of the first things he did was start trying to hack her accounts again. He managed to con an elderly couple he knew threw World of Warcraft from a different state into letting him live with them, and from there he spent a lot of time and energy stalking us and hacking our devices to the best of his ability. He also convinced these poor, very stupid elderly people from his videogame to bankroll a lengthy, expensive divorce. Somehow a man who hadn't worked in almost 20 years managed to run us into over $50,000 in legal fees in two years. How a marriage with zero assets turned into a two year battle when both parties were officially in poverty before the divorce, or how the family courts never saw through the bullshit is beyond me.
To Jack's credit, he did a pretty good job remaining a thorn in our side. Largely due to the complete and utter ineptitude and indifference of the police and District Attorney who could and should have put a stop to his bullshit at any point in that time. Old Jack got hit with a permanent criminal stalking injunction and a 10-year protective order along with his probation, and no amount of effort on our part would get the police, DA, or probation to put a stop to it, despite mountains of evidence.
He successfully managed to draw the divorce out right up to the wedding we planned a year and a half prior, with his attorney putting in motion after motion to delay the process. With all our family and friends coming from all over the country and as far away as Japan, we accepted our wedding would just be a celebration and not an official wedding. Until the night before the wedding, she got a call from her attorney - he had made a call to the clerk's office at the court and got her to move the paperwork to finalize the divorce to the top of the pile, and she was officially divorced. Our wedding would be a real wedding after all, and despite Jack's best efforts, he lost again. We had the wedding on a remote ranch that we rented for a week, and foolishly decided to cater and decorate ourselves, which would have been a colossal undertaking without the extra 4 hours to drive into town and get our marriage certificate at the courthouse. But we pulled it off and it was everything we could have hoped for and then some, and we were officially married.
Jack of course didn't stop after the divorce was finalized. The list of shit he tried to do to us before and after that is too long to spell out in an already too long post, but here are some choice bits:
He wrote a demented letter to the oldest of his kids with her who severed her relationship with him, calling my wife and her mother "vipers and cowards" and promising we would "answer for what we've done sooner or later".
He continuously hacked our computers, miscellaneous accounts tied to our emails, and any other devices he could get into - dropping in remotely via Amazon Alexa, phones, etc.
He set up bots to send us thousands of spam emails, sign us up for dozens of international newsletters all at once, and requests for consultations for things like solar panel installations.
He told the kids vile lies about my wife and I, although the most egregious was when he used a court-ordered therapy appointment with his second oldest daughter to accuse me of distributing child porn, told the therapist I am an "evil man", and told him I wasn't safe to be around his daughters. This led to her being forensically interviewed by the police, where she spelled out what happened, but of course they did nothing.
He gave the two youngest children cell phones to sneak into our house, with Google accounts activated and location tracking turned on.
He sent packages to our house 5 times in the space of a few months, one of which was addressed to himself and contained nothing but a bag of Stevia and a pack of gum. These packages generally came to our door the day before his scheduled visitation with the kids.
During this time my bank account was hacked four times in the span of just a few months with nearly identical fraudulent charges. In each of these instances, I had completely changed my bank account information.
He filed false reports with CPS twice, alleging we were beating the children, locking them in the closet, and not feeding or bathing them. This led to a CPS agent coming to our house to investigate.
We brought all this to the police over and over as it happened, and they did nothing. The DA running the case wasted 5 months subpoenaing a fake email address that we told them when we reported it was fake and spoofed. After finding out about that, we went to the DA's office to find out what the fuck was going on. A Victim's Advocate met with us, and was horrified about how the case was handled, looked up the prosecutor assigned to the case, rolled her eyes and said "Oh...it's Stephanie", confirming what we already knew - this prosecutor was completely incompetent, an elect3d politician moonlighting as a prosecutor. She called us the next day to tell us the actual DA called a meeting and a warrant was put out for Jack's arrest. For some inexplicable reason, they pulled the warrant back, and the advocate told us it was because the DA was pursuing more serious charges.
Then, they stonewalled us. The Victim's Advocate we had met with that actually tried to help us was moved off our case, and the new one assigned refused to talk to us or return our calls. The few exchanges we had with her, she made it abundantly clear she had the DA Office's interests in mind and not ours. We decided to just stay quiet and let the process play out and hope for the best, up until we received an email on Friday night before Election Day from the Detective telling us Stephanie had closed the case. I assume she didn't want her incompetence coming to light, and didn't want to shut the case down before Election Day knowing we would be on the warpath.
Eventually, Jack caught wind that he was officially under criminal investigation, but clearly had no idea they were never going to press charges. He got quiet for a bit, until he was ultimately let off probation early. We still get the occasional reminder he's out there watching, but his fear of going back to jail and the belief it might happen cowed him a bit. So instead he harasses us through the family courts, filing constant bullshit motions with no evidence to support them, and for some reason the courts let it continue. Somehow a man who makes ~$800 from SSDI and is only paying $30 a month total to support his 3 kids with my wife is able to fund tens of thousands of dollars worth of legal proceedings every year, and no one in the family courts has ever stopped to ask how he is paying for it or why all this money isn't being spent on supporting these children.
But despite Jack's best efforts, his bullshit hasn't worked. My wife and I have been together for four years soon, and married for two. His kids call me dad and hate his guts, only seeing him because the courts force them to. I continue to advance in my career, landing two major promotions in the past 2 years and now running a division in one of the largest companies in my field in this part of the country. I just enrolled in college to go back to school and get a degree in family law with a focus on domestic violence. The most frustrating part of the whole experience with ol' Jack was having no one to turn to when all the institutions who were supposed to keep this from happening ignored us, and even though I'll be well into my mid 40's before I accomplish my new goals, I plan to advocate for domestic violence victims and do everything I can to lobby for change to these laws to keep as many people as I can from going through what my wife and I did. I learned that the only way to beat these people at their game is to play on the same field right along with them, and that's what I intend to do.
My wife went back to work too once she healed from some of the trauma, making $30 an hour as a personal assistant for a fella who's had two movies made about his life. Our kids struggled a bit with school and dealing with all their biological parents' issues, but they quickly turned it around and have been excelling. We're all happy, healthy, and doing better now than ever.
As for Jack? Well, he's pushing 50 and still spending his days alone, playing World of Warcraft and jerking off in this old couple's basement. Nothing has changed there, and now he's too fat, old, and visibly an enormous fucking loser to victimize women in the same way he did in his youth. I have no doubts he'll find another victim eventually, probably when these old weirdos bankrolling his life now finally wise up, but one thing Jack forgets is that karma is a mother fucker, and I have a giant database of evidence that I can and will send out to whoever I please to help pull that mask down and keep him from doing this to someone else. Nothing is more appealing to a potential love interest than hearing their man cry like a drunk bitch for 26 minutes to the man he claims stole his wife, while simultaneously admitting to sexually assaulting said wife.
As wonderful as it would have been for Jack to go to prison where he can't hurt anyone again, there is some catharsis knowing Jack will forever be in a prison of his own making. His children want nothing to do with him, and he'll never see them graduate or walk them down the aisle. Jack will die miserable and alone, and in his narcissistic delusion will still be blaming everyone else for the colossal failure of his life, while continuing to fail to grasp the one thread that ties all his misery together - himself.
And since he somehow manages to find and stalk most of my social media, I'd wager Jack will end up reading this too. I hope he does in all honesty. And Jack, if you are reading this, I want you to know that you can kick, flail, manipulate and lie, cry and complain until you're red in the face. None of it matters. You don't matter. You'll leave this world alone, as sad and bitter as you are now, and the world will be a better place for it.

DISCLAIMER: Sorry this is a day late. I ended up having to rewrite half of this. Still, I hope you enjoy. After this, I'll be going on my hiatus. So I hope you like this last little bit of Roo-family cuteness. Thank you all and keep on keepin' on!
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Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the NoP universe.
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I'd also like to thank u/xskipy10 for their awesome fanart of the main cast as well as their recent Tohba meme and their fanart of Michael baysitting. You're work is a treasure!
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Thank you as well to u/Accomplished-Golf-59 for his take on Michael, Teylim, and Tohba in his submission for the Banner Art Contest, and u/Spacer_Catgirl4969 for their awesome music video featuring a pixel-art Dohkar in his bar. Be sure to give ALL of these awesome creators your love and support.
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And let's not forget u/Guywhoexists2812 who has been an awesome source of memes as well as sick pixel art, such as THIS and THIS!!!! And even THIS!!!!!! And how could I forget THIS!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much!
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Today, we see all the reasons Teylim has to keep going in the face of adversity. For when all is said and done, love truly does conquer all. LETTUCE...begin...
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Original Story
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[Accessing Camera Function…]
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[Accessing Saved Recordings Function…]
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[Play Selected Recording?: Y/N…]
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[Playing Recording!]
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[The camera opens up on a female Yotul with a satchel over her shoulder. She is walking backwards down a paved walkway while looking up at the person holding the camera…]
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“Alright! Soooo…here we are in… Michael tell us where we are!”
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[The person holding the camera gives an audible sigh…]
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“Do I have to, Tey?”
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“Yes! Come on, it’ll be fun!”
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[Another audible sigh is heard before the person begins panning the camera around the surrounding cityscape…]
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“We are in the beautiful, literally ALWAYS sunny capital of Dayside City!”
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“And what would you say we’re doing here in Dayside City?”
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“We were just at the Public Records building getting our paperwork verified.”
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[The Yotul woman is seen reaching into her satchel and pulling out a leaflet of documents…]
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“Oh! You mean THIS paperwork? Hmmm… I wonder what these might say… Mind helping me here?”
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“Seriously?”
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[The Yotul doesn’t answer, instead shoving the documents directly into the camera. Another, more amused-sounding sigh is heard…]
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“It says that your name has been officially changed to ‘Teylim Andrews.’”
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“Mmmmhmmm. And what about this one?”
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“That one says that Tohba’s name has been officially changed to ‘Tohba Andrews.’”
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“Aaaand why do you suppose that is?”
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[A shuffling sound is heard and the camera shifts as the person holding it pulls out their own papers…]
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“Probably because according to MY paperwork, while we’re still waiting for my Application of Citizenship to go through, I, Michael Ruiz Andrews, am now the full, legal, son of one, Teylim Andrews-”
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“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!!”
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[The Yotul woman darts forward, wrapping the person holding the camera in a hug. The camera is set on the ground and the face of the person is now visible. The two hold their embrace, rocking back and forth…]
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“I love you so much, my joey…”
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“Love you too, Ma…”
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[Recording Ceases…]
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[Play Next Recording?: Y/N…]
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[Playing Recording!]
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[The camera opens on a small kitchen area where two beings are sat eating. On the left, a male Yotul infant in a high chair is munching away at a human food identified as “Cheerios” spread across his tray. On the right, a male human idly stirs at a bowl of cereal while tapping away at a datapad…]
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[Eventually, after munching down another “Cheerio”, the infant catches a glimpse at the human and stares for approximately one second before his tail begins wagging…]
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“Mikey?”
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[The humans attention is broken away from their datapad and immediately focuses on the infant…]
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“Yeah, Bud?”
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“I WUV YOOOUUU.”
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[The infant’s sing-song voice seems to make the human smile before he leans forward, planting a “kiss” on top of the infant’s head…]
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“MmmMUAH! Te amo, mi hermanito.”
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“Whaz dat mean?”
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“It means, ‘I love you, Little Brother’. Want me to teach you?”
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“Hmmmmm… OKAY!”
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“Okay.”
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[The human chuckles slightly before scooting his chair in…]
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“Okay, so when you want to tell someone you love them, you say, ‘Te amo.’ Okay?”
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[The infant gives a curious ear flick…]
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“Teeeh…Mo?”
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“Close! Here. Repeat after me. Te…”
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“Teeh…”
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“Ah…”
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“Aaahh…”
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“Mo…”
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“Moh!”
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“Te…ah…mo…”
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“Teeh…aaahh…mo!”
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“Okay! All together now. Te amo.”
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“¡TE AMO!”
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[The human excitedly gets up from his seat and embraces the infant…]
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“YES!!! You did it! Awesome job, Bud!”
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“YAAAAYYY!!!! ¡TE AMO, MIKEY!”
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“MMMUAH!! ¡Te amo, precioso hermanito!”
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[The camera jitters slightly and a muffled giggling is heard. The human turns to face the camera…]
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“Ma? What are you- Have you been recording this whole time?”
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“Just a little!”
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“Must you record everything?”
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“As a matter of fact, yes!”
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“MAMA!!”
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[The camera zooms in on the excited infant…]
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“Hello, Precious! Is your big brother teaching you Spanish?”
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“UH-HUH!! ¡TE AMO, MAMA!”
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“Ooooh, that is just ADORABLE! Can you teach him to say ‘Mama’ in Spanish, too?”
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[The camera pans over to the human, who raises an eyebrow. After a moment, the human smirks and gives an exaggerated shrug while shaking his head…]
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“No tengo que hacerlo. Él ya lo sabe, mamá.”
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“Pffft! Smart aleck.”
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[Recording Ceases…]
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[Play Next Recording?: Y/N…]
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[Playing Recording!]
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[The camera opens up facing a pair of beds in a small room. On one bed, a female Yotul is sat with her infant in her lap as a male human walks into frame carrying a brightly wrapped gift box…]
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“Merry Late Christmas, guys!”
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“Merry Christmas, Michael!”
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“Mewwy Kwizmuz, Mikey!”
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[The human kneels down and hands the infant the gift box…]
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“Sorry this gift is a bit last minute, but I managed to grab it while I was out with ‘Nel the other day.”
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“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, Michael.”
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“I hope so. Go on, Bud. Open it! It’s for you!”
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“OKAY!!!”
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[The infant rips away at the brightly-colored paper, and with help from his mother, lifts off the lid. The infant then excitedly starts bouncing up and down and reaches into the box, pulling out a bright-red plush…]
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“WED TIWFISH!!!!!!”
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“Oh, Michael! How? When?”
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“I had to ask around online if anyone else had plushies from the aquarium ship, and I managed to find a guy here in Dayside. There’s…still a lot of things we lost at the house that need to be replaced, but I figured this would be a good start…”
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“It’s perfect.”
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[The three embrace and hold it for several seconds before pulling back…]
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“BUT! I’m not done with gifts just yet.”
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“What?”
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“Here. Mind handing me your pad?”
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“Sure?”
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[The Yotul hands the human her datapad as he pulls a small drive from his pocket and plugs it in. After a moment, he smiles and sits down on the bed next to the Yotul. She is then seen gasping and covering her mouth with her paws…]
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“Michael…”
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“I overheard you on the phone with Aunty Triv, talking about how you wish you had some pictures of me when I was younger…”
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“How on Liern-”
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“It’s…a long story. When I was first taken into foster care after getting rescued, I was assigned a social worker to help me adjust. And after I got situated with Dad, he stayed and helped us out from time to time. He basically became like an uncle to me after a while. And since Dad didn’t really have any other family, whenever he wanted to share pictures of me growing up, he’d send a copy to my social worker. I’ve…been back in contact with him for a little while now, and it turns out he kept them.”
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“Oh, Michael…”
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[The Yotul and human lean against each other and embrace…]
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“I love you, Ma.”
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“I love you too, my joey.
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[Still leaning against each other, they begin to swipe at the pad, presumably looking through pictures. After a few swipes, The Yotul begins chuckling hysterically…]
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“Aaaawwweee…”
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“Crap, I forgot about that one!”
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“Who’z dat?”
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“That’s…me, Bud.”
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[The infant looks at the image for a while, still holding the bright red plush…]
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“Teeheehee!! Fuzzy Mikey!”
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“Can we please just swipe to the next one?”
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“Wait. I’ve seen those kinds of human garments before! Aren’t those for…LITTLE…little joeys?”
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“Look, I was a very emotionally stunted kid and I just thought they were comfy, alright?”
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“This is SO going on the desk.”
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“Please no. Any of them but that one.”
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“Nope! It’s already decided!”
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“YAAYYY! FUZZY MIKEY!”
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“God, ‘Nel’s never gonna let me live this down…”
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[Recording Ceases…]
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Memory Transcript Subject: Teylim Andrews, Yotul Accountant And Loving Mother Of Two
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Date:[Standardized Human Time] February 1, 2137
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[Warning: REM Sleep Detected: Transcript May Be Fragmented Or Incomplete…]
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Crrreeeeaak…
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My eyes slowly squint open as the noise rouses me from sleep. I let out a yawn before looking for the source of the noise. I’m…back in my house… Sitting upright, I see that my door’s been opened, beaming The Dayside’s permanent daylight into my room. I was confused for a moment. The only other person here that would be here is-
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“Uuuuhhmm… M-Mrs. Teylim?”
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I looked down, and spotted the culprit.
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Standing in the doorway was a small human child, cradling my Tohba in his arms. He was silhouetted from the daylight behind him, the light beaming past his adorable onesie pajamas creating a small blue outline around him, matching his eyes.
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Strange. For some reason, I thought he was taller…
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“Michael, sweetie? What’s the matter?”
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Still carrying Tohba, Michael made his way over to the bed.
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“Uuuhhhmmm… Tohba h-had a n-nightmare…”
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“Ooohh, is that so?”
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Something definitely didn’t add up. As he gently handed Tohba over to me, he certainly didn’t seem to be having a nightmare. In fact, even now he was still sleeping peacefully.
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Michael, on the other paw, was DEFINITELY out of sorts. He was nervous, fidgeting, wrapped up in a self-hug, and even now, refused to even look at me. Whether that was because of his nervousness or if he was still convinced I was afraid of him had yet to be seen.
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Stupid, ridiculous, Federation dogma…
​
I could tell he wasn’t being honest with me. Ordinarily, I would’ve been upset about him lying, and even more so about him disturbing Tohba, but looking at him now, I knew what he needed now wasn’t a scolding.
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“Michael, you know you can be honest with me. Was it really Tohba who had the nightmare?”
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I heard him nervously gulp as he tightened the self-hug around himself. After a moment, he shook his head.
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“Mm’mm…”
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I gave a tired, but loving sigh before holding out my free arm.
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“Come here.”
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With some hesitation, he stepped closer, allowing me to pull him into a hug. Michael had a lot of issues. From what I learned from his social worker, he’d been terribly abused by his previous mother and he’d lost his father only a few years after moving in with him. And now, with Earth under attack, he simply didn’t have anywhere else to go.
​
It will take a long time before he’s fully comfortable living here, I know that. I’m still not even entirely sure if I’m what he needs. I still wonder if I know what I’m doing when it comes to just raising Tohba. Even so, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try. He deserves a home, and a mother who loves him. All children do.
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“I'm sorry for lying…”
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“Ssshhh… It’s alright. Do you want to talk about it?”
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“It was…the one with the scary fire people…”
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Oh…THAT dream…
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Exterminators.
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“I don’t want them to come… I don’t want them to-“
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“It’s okay, joey. They won’t get you here.”
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“No! That’s not… That’s not what I’m scared of…”
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I pulled back slightly, allowing myself to look directly at him. He sniffles and sobbed while trying to wipe away tears.
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“You’re all so nice to me… \sniff** I…I-I don’t want the fire people to hurt you… I sh-shouldn’t be here…”
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My heart broke in two. This poor child had already lost so much. It only made sense that he’d be afraid of losing us too.
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I cupped his face in my paw, wiping away his tears.
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“Michael Ruiz Andrews, I don’t care what you might have heard, but you have every RIGHT to be here. And if those scary people out there think they can come and take us away from you, they’re wrong. I will never let us be separated. You hear me?”
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“. . .P-promise?”
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“With all my heart. You’re MY joey now, and I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”
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At last, Michael finally unwrapped himself from his self-hug and instead wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my fur.
​
After a while of holding him, he’d finally calmed down enough to speak again.
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“C-can I…sleep here tonight?”
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Your joey needs you.
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Yes.
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“Of course.”
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With some effort, he climbed up onto the bed and curled up next to me. I knew I most likely wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep, but that was fine. Just laying here, holding my boys in my arms. That was enough.
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One after the other, I gave both my joeys a lick on the forehead.
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“Goodnight my joeys. I love you.”
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“Wuv…you…Ma…ma…”
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“. . .Love you too...Mom…”
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I love my boys. I love my family. I love…my life…
​
[Transcript Time Progression: 4 hours…]
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Beebeebeebeep! Beebeebeebeep! Beebeebeebeep!
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[Warning: Subject Regaining Consciousness…]
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My entire body protested as I twisted and turned over to tap the alarm on my nightstand. My claw slapped blindly at it until finally, the agitating alarm was silenced. My eyes squinted open, revealing…I was back in our motel room…
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Well…a girl can dream, can’t she?
​
It was a pleasant dream, I’ll give it that. As I sat up, I let my legs dangle off the side of the bed as I stretched myself out and let out a yawn. Once my eyes had fully opened, and the fog had been blinked away, I was immediately met with a sight that warmed my heart to no end. My still fast asleep, and back to being tall, new son, curled up with his baby brother on the other bed.
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Precious boys. MY precious boys.
​
I did my best to remember if Michael had anything scheduled with Khornel for this paw, but nothing came to mind. He’d been working so hard lately, helping to keep us above water. Now that he wasn’t a refugee anymore, we were no longer receiving stipends from the program, which meant from here on out, keeping the bills paid was much more difficult. And that’s not even mentioning having to put aside anything we can to be able to eventually have the house rebuilt.
​
I kept trying for a while, I still couldn’t remember anything. For the first time in a decent while, he had a paw off.
​
Good. I’ll leave him be then. He’s earned some rest.
​
I let out one more yawn, before getting up. Unfortunately, while Michael didn’t have to work this paw, I wasn’t so fortunate. Thankfully, my recent injuries allowed me to continue to work from home instead of going out to the physical office. After one last stretch, I let myself slide off the bed.
​
I had to give myself a moment once I was upright. While my previously broken leg had healed for the most part, I still needed to be careful of how much weight I put on it. Once I was ready, I began walking to our small kitchen area. The fridge was nearly empty. I’d need to go to the store soon.
​
Thank goodness we’re staying in Soulroot, where literally EVERYTHING is expensive…
​
After cutting up some leftover fruit and strayu for myself, I went back to my desk. It was impossible to not notice the small stack of colorful books on the ground next to it. They were human kid’s books donated from the embassy here in Soulroot. Tohba would be ready to start going to school in just a few short cycles…
​
Will we be able to get out of here and back into our house before then?
​
Sitting down at my desk and booting up my pad, I found it hard to stay focused. There was still so much to do, so much to worry about. Before, when I was feeling overwhelmed, I’d have Loh, Dohkar, or Trivah there for me. With them around, it always helped things feel more manageable. But now…now I was alone again. Loh was gone. Dohkar and Trivah were stuck on the other side of that damned fence…
​
What are we going to do?
​
My head lowered. I stared blankly at the desk, partly wishing I could look through it at ANYTHING other than my work.
​
But then, there was a glint, just out of the corner of my eye…
​
I looked up, and saw something that I couldn’t help but smile at, something that even when I’m feeling low, reminds me why I have to keep going.
​
I reach out…and grab the two small frames off the corner of my desk and hold them in front of me. In my left paw, wass a framed picture of Tohba, the paw he was born. So small. So precious. So perfect. And in my right, was another picture. It was my new favorite picture.
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A small, human child…in fuzzy, blue, onesie pajamas that matched his eyes.
​
My Michael. Still so small.
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These two pictures. My boys. The villains outside could take everything else. So long as I have my boys, I will always have a reason to keep going.
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I love my boys… I love my family… I love my life…
​
The End

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1crq34h/troublemakers_buried_secrets_bolster_the_weak/
......
Go'mon strutted around the command center, a cape of deep purple silk flowing about his shoulders as he wore his gilded armor. An ornate helmet underneath one arm, the faceplate forged into the visage of a snarling Rak'nal beast. He peered over the shoulders of drone pilots, observing the carnage on the streets in front of the mansion. His black scimitar hung at his belt, the palm of his war gauntlet resting on the hilt, eyebrow crests rising as he saw the expeditionary general's Buzzard explode.
"Casualty report on General Gra'vos?"
He stated to the small Geknosian woman who deftly piloted her drone closer to the wreckage to pull data from the onboard recorder. Her eyes sparkled, reflected in the screen as the data was streamed directly into her brain through a neural implant.
"Deceased, Just like you planned, his provided pleasure slave threw him from the craft and stole the det-sphere you clipped to his belt. You seem to know a lot about how these humans fight."
Go'mon touched the small grooves underneath the elastomer skin of his face where that parasite had shot him with a concealed gun. He laughed bloodily and purred.
"Failure is the greatest teacher in the universe, these parasites have taught me everything they know. Now we just need to see what their true fighting strength is."
"Understood sir, orders?"
"Get a view on the inner courtyard and report to the commanders of the second and third waves their positions and weaponry."
A young lieutenant called out.
"Sir! Twelve UHM-60 Blackhawks en-route to the enemy base! Advise!"
Go'mon stalked over, peering over the satellite observer's shoulder as he followed a chevron of twelve helicopters loaded down with ancient, obsolete human war-droids. He rapped the claws of his war gauntlet against the handle of his scimitar with a purr.
"Send orders to Commander Mar'tek to equip three of his Gallicks with anti-air weaponry, and orders for Commander Rak'don to equip his light attack craft with visual lock on missiles."
"Yes sir, relaying orders now."
Go'mon patted his subordinate on the shoulder hard enough to make them wince as he stepped back to gaze up at the massive map of Golgotha on the big screen. Small purple dots converging on a black dot that symbolized the human base of operations. He noticed that Mar'tek's forces were delayed, having only made it roughly halfway to their staging area. Walking over to the Comm's desk he asked.
"What's taking Commander Mar'tek so long to get into position?"
"A small group of human Saboteurs dropped a pair of buildings across the roadway, they're still clearing the rubble sir."
Go'mon nodded, picking idly at his metal teeth with the sharp point of his war gauntlet's index finger.
"Hm... I thought the parasite's response was oddly punctual, color me surprised they had the wherewithal to keep scouts. Move Mar'tek to the rear of the attack plan and tell Rak'don he's up next."
"Yessir!"
Go'mon chuckled haughtily, exiting the command room and returning to his field office. Setting his helmet on top of his desk he picked up the communication stick for sylva.
"Sylva, Would you kindly deal with that gate once you've landed?~"
There was a pause before.
"I'm too injured to follow that order sir."
Go'mon raised an eyebrow crest at the monotone voice that echoed back through the device.
"you've never refused a command before darling, would you kindly take care of the gate?"
The pause was longer this time, much longer this time. Then, a different, much younger voice came through, filled with fear, but also tainted with determination.
"Fuck you, Go'mon. These are our friends."
The sound of penny whistles and drums accompanied the words before the comms device popped in his gauntlet with the sound of a musket shot. Impossibly thick gray smoke pulsing from the speaker as he snarled and tossed it to the side.
"Bobby, Would you be a dear and retrieve your sister for me?"
The almost seven foot tall brute slowly nodded, eyes dull behind his ceramite mask as he stomped from the command center, bulky combat armor clattering and clunking with each step. Go'mon pressed his metal teeth together with a hiss. That damned warrior corrupted everything he touched with delusions of free will. Go'mon grabbed a fungal cigar from the box General Da'kos had given him as a thank you gift. The sweet, smoky flavor filling his maw as he lit it with the glowing hot blade of his gauntlet's thumb. He relaxed into his chair, flicking his cape out from beneath him as he enjoyed the cigar to relieve some momentary stress. His body suddenly flared with tingling power as the voice of Conquest growled in his ear.
"Kill that boy before he realises your plan. if he finds out your intentions he won't hold back."
Go'mon puffed the cigar and pulled it from his lips, letting it burst into purple flames and crumble away into cinders as he rose from his chair. He stepped out into the command center and commanded.
"Get me a buzzard to that battlefield, Order's from Conquest herself!"
There was a moment of silence as he let his aura roll over the command room, several of the comms officers immediately setting up a Buzzard for his departure.
...
Dust kicked off the ground as Drake's jump pack slowed his fall meters above the ground, He hit the ground and tore it from his back, whipping it into a group of soldiers and hitting it with a jet of pale flames.
The pack detonated in ball of orange fire that vaporized the soldiers, his cape fluttering in the backdraft before he whipped his sword from it's sheath, keen edges wreathed in pale flames as he took a Geknosian's arm off at the elbow as they tried to stuff a blaster pistol in his face. He snatched the blaster pistol from the air, using it to put a kinetic bolt into the faceplate of a powerarmored soldier with a Warhammer, Crumpling it inwards as he slid a foot back, another warhammer crashing into the ground where he'd just been standing. Another kinetic bolt tore off the soldier's pauldron as the hammer swung up at his face, making him reel back as another hammerhead caught him at the small of his back and knocked the air from his lungs. Another hammer slammed into his faceplate, forcing him to kick himself into a flip to land back on his feet. Ears ringing he deflected a Warhammer with his sword before putting another blaster bolt into the wielder's faceplate. But even as they fell back, another hammerblow hit the side of his helmet and smacked him down. Drake rolled out of the way as twenty millimeter high-explosive rounds shredded his assailants, allowing him to get to his feet as the war-bots formed a lethal semicircle, sending high explosive firepowerinto the rear column of the Geknosian assault at a blistering pace. Drake shook his head clear and vaulted over the back of one, hearing it's gun fall silent as he landed in it's cone of fire. Several flowing chops decimated a small squad of Geknosians as he tried to fight his way to the center of the column where the Gallicks hammered the gate with kinetic penetrators. The armored gate shuddering with each blow as Drake dodged war gauntlets and hammers, retaliating with fast slashes and blinding thrusts. Purple blood drenching him as his heart began to pound with battle lust.
He heard a mighty roar and crackle as one of the flying machines opened up with it's chin gun, harassing a gallick with 20mm High explosive rounds to get it's attention off the gates. It's shadow passing overhead with a Buzzard in pursuit as it slalomed low through the buildings to come back for another gun run. There was a ground shaking Boom! as something exploded beyond the rooftops, a Buzzard, smoking from one engine buzzing overhead and away from the battlefield. Drake quickly returned his focus to the battlefield, Smacking a Warhammer to the side with the blaster pistol before thrusting the blade right beneath the soldier's chin, twisting, and pulling free as a war-bot fell forward, a molten pit of slag glowing in it's back as he turned his head to face another column of armor and armored soldiers as they rounded onto the battlefield, a Buzzard painted the deepest, most royal purple he'd ever seen hovered low in front of them.
A geknosian in gold and purple armor fell from the open door, Cape of purple silk flowing behind them as they landed with one palm against the ground, Dark scimitar slashed out to the side as a crescent blade of purple energy was slung straight at Drake. Death's chosen slashed upward at the crescent, but it flowed around his blade, cutting across his chest and bringing with it a foul, draining weakness as a cold, familiar voice called out.
"That one's mine boys!~ all mine!~"
Drake hadn't recognized Go'mon in the ornate armor, but now there was no mistaking it. He tried to take a step forward but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him to his knees as a festering cold spread from the wounds made by the crescent blade that never touched his armor. He looked in confusion at his sword as the pale flames flickered out, then up just as Go'mons armored shin cracked into the side of his helmet, flinging him through a building as his mind reeled with confusion. He pulled himself from the rubble around him, stumbling to the side as a blade of purple energy sliced through the rubble he'd just been buried in without leaving a mark. He tossed the blaster pistol to the side, bringing the free hand to his mouth, intending to rip a ring off with his teeth. But as Go'mon slung another blade of purple energy with a cackle, He missed the ring, biting off his left index finger, ring and all as a boost of power burned the creeping cold away. He spit the severed digit to the ground as the ring still on it puffed into smoke.
"Feeling weak boy?!~ like your power's been drained?~"
Go'mon purred as he took a step forward, aura swelling with power as he held up the black sword.
"The blade of greed will do that if you let it touch you~"
Go'mon took an unfamiliar stance, Blade arched over his head and pointed down as he fell into a low, wide stance, one arm pushed forward as the blades on his war gauntlet's fingers glowed orange with heat. Drake fell into his peasants guard, gripping his sword in two hands as he glared at Go'mon. His gaze flickered off go'mon for a split second as he thought of everyone still in the mansion and the Geknosian chosen surged forward in a flash of purple light to run drake through before kicking him through the back wall of the building, Drake's power draining away like the blood pouring from the hole in his Lorica. He barely deflected Go'mons black blade as Conquest's chosen surged forward with a brutal slash, unable to focus for the split second required to dissipate a ring and refresh his power. Go'mons aura blooming with power with each blow of that black blade. Drake burst through a wall and into an empty street, tumbling ass over head as he desperately held onto his sword.
Angry red blood spilled from the hole in his armor as he got his elbows under him, a pair of golden boots clomping into view as Go'mon gloated, a softly flickering bloom of pale purple flames in his palm.
"All this power, and you don't even know how to properly control or wield it... Don't worry, you won't have it long~"
Drake manage to dissipate the remaining rings on his left hand, an intoxicating burst of power allowing him to launch himself back away from Go'mon as his wounds knitted closed, severed finger growing back with a crunching, fleshy noise. He could feel Go'mons grin behind the snarling visage of his helmet as he fell into a peasants guard, feeling far too weak for having removed five rings. The two stared at each other silently, one of the flying machines spinning to the ground before exploding into a fireball behind Go'mon. Drake fet a deathly calm fall over him as he twisted his sword up into a high guard.
He had to make it back to his people, no matter what. The thumb and pinkie ring on his right hand puffed into smoke as he felt those corvid like wings form at his back, a cold cage of festering ice around the burning sun of rage in his heart. Go'mon took a simple offensive guard, twirling the scimitar with obvious skill in a figure eight in front of him.
The two chosen launched themselves at each other, Drake wreathed in black smoke as Go'mon exploded with pale purple light; the pavement cracking beneath their feet with the violence of the action.
...
Martha tended to the mounting wounded in the infirmary as fast as she could, back splayed open as small gossamer arms allowed her to work on several wounded at once. Many of the ex-slave women helped, binding wounds with clean bandages and splinting broken limbs like they had back at the plantations. Hearing the large wooden doors of the ballroom infirmary slam open, she looked up as Destrier and Caz hauled in a pale remin and a Brutalized young woman. Keeping one hand holding a bundle of gauze against the bleeding wound she was attempting to close up, The young man looking up at her with fear, pain, and hope on his face as he helped hold the gauze down. Pointing to two empty beds she called out.
"Set them there! Where's Drake?! We could really use the walking embodiment of Death right now!"
Destrier hoarsely called back, setting Remin into a bed as the old man struggled to keep his eyes open.
"He's fighting his way towards us from the rear!"
Caz helped the battered young woman into a bed where she curled into the fetal position before the Markswoman swept back out of the infirmary, Huntress humming as she slammed a new flechette into the barrel. Martha continued tying off tattered blood vessels, trying to keep the young man from bleeding out as Cassius appeared next to her, shaking his hands dry after scrubbing them with antiseptic to help close up the gnarly gash in the stomach of the wounded man behind her. Martha's heart pounded in her throat as she finally managed to sew the wound closed before hitting the fighter with a sedative to ease his pain and knock him out. She wanted to cry but held in her tears as she turned around to focus on the same patient as Cassius, but even as she did, the young man placed a bloodied palm on her forearm. She felt a lone tear drip down her snout as she looked at the mans deathly stillness, eyes closed in quiet acceptance of his fate, a grim smile on his face.
Her legs felt weak beneath her as she leaned on Cassius, watching Destrier rush out of the infirmary out of the corner of her eye.
"we're going to need a miracle if we want to make it out of this alive..."
She whimpered as the din of battle echoed dully from outside. That was when a wounded man sat up, grunting as he held the bandages across his torso. She rushed over to stop him from tumbling out of bed when he simply fell through the floor, an odd superposition happening where he was there and not for a split second. But when it faded, there was a note left on the ground, scrawled in blood red, blotchy words.
"I'll be back, and I won't be alone."
Martha could only hope that was true as she turned to continue tending the wounded, Despair filling her heart as more wounded were brought in from the ramparts.
...
Halcyon held the gate, rifle spitting hatred from behind one of the wall's crenellations as one of his Hellions fell next to him, skull split open by gauss slug. Halcyon glanced down at the gate where Thomas and another hulking agri-droid held it against the wall, the gate rattling with each impact of a Gallick's kinetic penetrator, apples of sunlight spreading across the ground where they'd simply sailed straight through. The Geknosian reinforcements turning an already blistering hail of various projectiles and beams becoming an impassable force as several of their light cruisers fired on the helicopters that circled over the battlefield. Missiles streaking upwards and shredding the soft-skinned aircraft, forcing them to take evasive maneuvers and stop the pulse-pounding barrage of their rotary cannons. Halcyon's attention was drawn to the sky as an impossibly loud crash of steel on steel accompanied a streak of pale purple light and void black as they shot into the sky. The black streak getting slammed down by a brutal, unseen strike that made Halcyon's heart leap into his throat. What kind of monster could go toe to toe with Drake, and appear to be winning.
Halcyon, peaked past the cranellation he had his back against, a gauss slug taking his eye out and making him shout in pain as he jerked his head back. Ripping a bundle of gauze from his medi-pack, he rolled it out and bunched it up, pressing it against his vacant and shattered eye socket as a bout of lightheadedness turned the edges of his reduced vision dark.
One of his men crouched beside him flinching when chips of stone exploded from the crenellation they'd been taking cover behind, some sort of heavy weapon having been aimed at them as they darted for Halcyon. Halcyon looked into their eyes, face just as dismayed as he felt, their words barely audible over the din of battle.
"what do we do, sir...?"
Halcyon let out a sigh, shouting over the roar of gunfire.
"Pull back! secure the mansion!"
The fighters didn't need to be told twice as the ramparts were abandoned, leaping from the walls to sprint back to the mansion, The agri-bots forming a phalanx behind them to cover their retreat. But Halcyon couldn't help but feel this is exactly what the Geknosians wanted.
But even as the fighters swarmed into the Mansion, Two figures walked past them.
A hulking man in dark samurai armor wielding an lmg and a smaller woman with a flowing furred cloak and white mask, carrying an ornate rail rifle walked past them through the doors.
Halcyon watched in dismayed confusion as Caz and Destrier stepped out into the sunlight, a jump pack freshly mounted on Destriers back beside his kanabo. Another smaller figure appeared as if from thin air, Cassius spinning the weight at the end of a chain attached to a kama menacingly as the doors closed behind them, massive metal shutters sealing them out as the mansion was locked down. He couldn't help but smile grimly.
There was a reason they were Drake's friends, and it wasn't because they were the best fighters.
It was because when everyone else ran away, they ran towards the fight... regardless of their own safety.
......
Part 109: will be linked here upon release.

Hello Apes.
Back with another review of all the tweets sent from memelord and cat inspiration, Roaring Kitty.
If you missed my first review for 13th May, you can find it here.
To reiterate, the description of each tweet is to the best of my knowledge the references made and the speculation is pure speculation on my part, this is just for fun and shouldn't be taken as any financial advice, make your own decisions, I just like the stock. If you have anything to add feel free to in the comments and I'll do my best to update the post.
11am - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790396654971224430
Description: The infamous scene from the movie Troy where Achilles rather reluctantly at first, comes forward to fight the mighty Boagrius. Achilles runs at him, defending against a few spear throws then with one epic jump and slide, stabs Boagrius with this blade killing him in one clean strike. The music dubbed on this clip is Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm of the War Drums by A Perfect Circle.
Speculation: Chosen warrior blessed by the gods comes forward in front of the masses and takes out the big baddie. You could make the speculation that the song could reference something to do with DRS (A Perfect Circle) and SHFs bleeding out (counting bodies like sheep).
11.30am - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790404203715887238
Description: First of all we have a cat talking to itself in the mirror stating the words, "Don't be the bigger person today, be the person that helps them understand that sometimes when you f**k around, we find out...". We then cut to arrested development where Buster who is portrayed as a bear has something to say, "i wanna shoot down everything you say, so i feel good about myself. cause i'm an uptight [insert copious amounts of swearing].
Speculation: First part DFV knows they (Shorts) have messed around again and have been doing it dirty. The gig is up again, time to close and pay up. The second part is a funny scene from arrested development where Buster, a character who just cannot fit in properly goes AWAL to try and show he has a nasty side, it just comes across as way too far. DFV just poking fun at bears here no doubt.
12:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790411757120561628
Description: First we have a scene from The Town where Doug says to James, "I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people." and James replies, "Who's car are we going to take?" Then it cuts to Mad Max where there are a load of sand buggy cars going nuts with flame throwers and all sorts of chaos with the song Du Hast by Rammstein playing in the background.
Speculation: I haven't seen the Town but from reading online this scene showed the amazing friendship between Doug and James when James simply replies, who's car are we going to take? in response to what sounds like a risky ask for help from Doug. Then with Mad Max: Fury Road we have a film about a post apocalyptic survivor in Max Rockatansky who eventually brings down a warlords Citadel (hmmm).
12:30pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790419301976903884
Description: First we have the whistling of Omar from The Wire, then we have a scene from the Kingsmen where they are locked in a pub with Galahad and the quote "Manners maketh man" and finally we have a scene from Oldboy with a big fight scene cut alongside some anime which is from demon slayer
Speculation: The whistling is synonymous with Omar and is to the tune of a nursery rhyme, "the farmer in the dell", anyone that watched The Wire would know instantly that this means Omar is coming and this means you best get out the way as he is coming with his double-barreled shotgun and he certainly won't hesitate to use it. The Kingsmen scene where they are locked in the pub is a particularly violent scene and it's an interesting film to reference, the plot *Film spoiler here* is essentially about a boy named Eggsy from a lower-class neighbourhood who's father dies and he finds out that his father was part of an elite inner circle of upper class. After trying to be part of this group, Eggsy discovers their secret plot to take over the world and takes it into his own hands to save the day. u/ ThePhenomNoku talks about the last 2 referenced films; "So the anime is demon slayer. It’s about a kid who has everything taken from him and trains to learn how to fight demons. Though as a sidenote he kind of carries one around with him. It’s complicated.The other movie with the guy holding the person, & the fight scene is the original Oldboy, and without giving too much of the plot away it’s about a dude who is falsely imprisoned for a couple of years or so, and then enacts his revenge."
Edit\* As u/ omegs points out: whistle is "The farmer in the dell, Hi-ho, the derry-o" reference to the circle. The movie Kingsmens: The Golden Circle as well
1:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790426851409817615
Description: Firstly we have the scene from Oceans 11 where Danny Ocean is chatting to Rusty Ryan right in the initial stage of their plan to heist the casino. He talks about how it's never been done before, will need planning and a large crew and Ryan asks if they are going to use guns, he replies "not exactly, there's lots of security" and finally Ryan asks "what's the target?". We then cut to a film i'm not aware (anyone help here?) of where an older gentleman shows a calculator to a young woman and the calculator says "Just up" on it then the woman says "yes that looks correct"
Speculation: In Oceans 11 there was a lot of planning and variables that had to happen for everything to work. It was a high risk high reward plan with a lot set up to go against but it's possible. The target has always been "just up", DFV just reiterating what he said in the first place.
1:30pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790434400494116873
Description: First we have a scene from Old School where he states, "A loophole?" "Yes. Well, it's interesting, sir. As stupid as they appear, they're actually very good at paperwork. It's quite an anomaly." then it cuts to a scene from the same film with the C&C factory everybody dance now song and a cheerleading dance attempt
Speculation: Of course with the loophole stuff it could be about all of the DD that has been done on what has gone on over the years but it could equally be about SHFs finding loopholes to get out of the mess they are in with the stock. The second part the judges clearly don't feel the attempt of the cheerleading or gymnastics piece they are portraying is any good but they are giving it a go and it's suppose to a comedy. Note the school is the cougars, cat links again of course.
Edit\* As u/ omegs points out: Loophole is reference to circle. Notice how the mascot is similar to a cat that does backflips into the center of the circle
2:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790441953659687421
Description: The first part is taken from The Batman and has Batman's monologue running and when the Batman signal is fired into the sky, a kitty shadow is shown instead of the Batman logo. It ends with an emphasis on "Fear is a Tool".
Speculation: Batman was of course a good hero who would rid the streets of criminals, they would scare just at the sight of the batman signal being fired knowing that they were about to get wrecked. In this clip, two years has been replaced with three years in the monologue and the kitty signal is of course a nice touch.
2:30pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790449499506192405
Description: This clip is taken from Mr Robot and is where Elliot plays eXit, a text based computer game that requires him to answer a series of questions in a text based game.
Speculation: I think it's best just to give the description of what happens in this scene taken from the fandom page. Elliot chooses to sit down with the friend in the dungeon. He lights a match and reads the note "Don't leave me here." Elliot chooses to stay. The alarm shuts off. An explosion happens nearby. Robot opens the door to find a fire raging outside. He concludes it's too late. Both of them sit down. They each say "I love you." Explosions rage around the room. "It's an exciting time in the world," Elliot says. Fade to red. Take from that what you will.
3:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790457051115847720
Description: This scene is taken from the movie Scream (2022), a direct sequel to Scream 4. A lot of the text has been changed but to summarize, one person states "he is making a requel" then there is some talk about the squeeze movie that came out last year and how most people in the actual know hated it and how "squeeze mid" pissed on their "covidhood", how the main character is a mary sue? Then a few cuts of Scream and how real squeeze movies have meta slasher whodunnits and that to some people the original is their favorite thing in the world
Speculation: A requel is A movie which revisits the subject matter of an earlier film but is not a remake or a linear continuation of its plot (i.e. a sequel or prequel). So essentially what is happening right now with the stock is not exactly the same of what has happened before but it is essentially a revisit of the same subject regarding squeezes. A mid squeeze implies that it wasn't as high as the squeeze could have gone and the theme of slashers and murdered people really suggests heads will roll (SHFs hopefully).
3:30pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790464599575167004
Description: This is a scene from Candyman where he has come for the woman. There is some cat flashes and images going on and the Woman in this is tagged as a bear (that is someone who is down on a stock or market, usually would short). Candyman talks about how there is no need for the bear to leave yet and that he was obliged to come then he says "be my victim" and a bumble bee comes out of the word be.
Speculation: Time is running out for the bear, they can hang around for a while longer but they will be the victim. This is more of the DFV is coming for you as he dresses himself up as a rampaging murderer targeting the bear in this case. Not sure on the bee, whether that is DFV just having some fun or if it's that a sting is coming in some sense.
4:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790472153470759217
Description: Taken from No Country for Old Men, Carson states he is a day trader and that Anton doesn't have to do this (Anton is going to kill him) tell him he could just go home. Carson continues that Anton could have 14 grand out of an ATM and just walk away before finally stating "do you have any idea how crazy you are?". Anton replies, "you mean the nature of these memes?" to which Carson says "I mean the nature of you!" The scene ends with the phone ringing.
Speculation: DFV putting himself into the mode of Anton from No Country for Old Men is quite the statement. For those who haven't seen this movie, Anton is a wrecking ball of a killer and adheres by his rulebook to seek out different people through the movie to take out. Carson being the desperate short seller here who is not understanding why DFV isn't just playing by the usual financial rules and taking his gains and going. The phone ringing at end could be an implication of margin calls ringing for the desperate short seller.
Edit\* As u/ omegs points out: I think the ATM might be a double meaning "At The Money"
8:00pm - https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790532552828289526
Description: This is taken from Braveheart and the prisoner (William Wallace) is asked to say a word in a famous scene where WW shouts "FREEEEDOM" only in this clip its "GAMESTOOOOOOOP".
Speculation: This is the first direct reference to Gamestop word for word and it should be noted that this is the scene where William Wallace is about to be executed. Could mean that DFV is willing to risk it all for Gamestop like William Wallace martyring himself for the freedom of Scotland.
Hope you enjoyed.
Love ya DFV

J. V. Stalin
The Party's Tasks Report Delivered at an Enlarged Meeting of the Krasnaya Presnya District Committee of the R.C.P.(B.) With Group Organisers, Members of the Debating Society and of the Bureau of the Party Units December 2, 1923 Source : Works, Vol. 5, 1921 - 1923 Publisher : Foreign Languages Publishing House, Moscow, 1954 Transcription/Markup : Salil Sen for MIA, 2008 Public Domain : Marxists Internet Archive (2008). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit "Marxists Internet Archive" as your source.
Comrades, first of all I must say that I am delivering a report here in my personal capacity and not in the name of the Central Committee of the Party. If the meeting is willing to hear such a report, I am at your service. (Voices : "Yes.") This does not mean that I disagree with the Central Committee in any way on this question; not at all. I am speaking here in my personal capacity only because the commission of the Central Committee for drafting measures to improve the internal situation in the Party 1 is to present its findings to the Central Committee in a day or two; these findings have not yet been presented, and therefore I have as yet no formal right to speak in the name of the Central Committee, although I am sure that what I am about to say to you will, in the main, express the Central Committee's position on these questions.
Discussion — A Sign of the Party's Strength The first question I would like to raise here is that of the significance of the discussion that is now taking place in the press and in the Party units. What does this discussion show? What does it indicate? Is it a storm that has burst into the calm life of the Party? Is this discussion a sign of the Party's disintegration, its decay, as some say, or of its degeneration, as others say?
I think, comrades, that it is neither one nor the other: there is neither degeneration nor disintegration. The fact of the matter is that the Party has grown more mature during the past period; it has adequately rid itself of useless ballast; it has become more proletarian. You know that two years ago we had not less than 700,000 members; you know that several thousand members have dropped out, or have been kicked out, of the Party. Further, the Party membership has improved, its quality has risen in this period as a result of the improvement in the conditions of the working class due to the revival of industry, as a result of the return of the old skilled workers from the countryside, and as a result of the new wave of cultural development that is spreading among the industrial workers.
In short, owing to all these circumstances, the Party has grown more mature, its quality has risen, its needs have grown, it has become more exacting, it wants to know more than it has known up to now, and it wants to decide more than it has up to now.
The discussion which has opened is not a sign of the Party's weakness, still less is it a sign of its disintegration or degeneration; it is a sign of strength, a sign of firmness, a sign of the improvement in the quality of the Party's membership, a sign of its increased activity.
Causes of the Discussion The second question that confronts us is: what has caused the question of internal Party policy to become so acute precisely in the present period, in the autumn of this year? How is this to be explained? What were the causes? I think, comrades, that there were two causes.
The first cause was the wave of discontent and strikes over wages that swept through certain districts of the republic in August of this year. The fact of the matter is that this strike wave exposed the defects in our organisations; it revealed the isolation of our organisations— both Party and trade-union—from the events taking place in the factories. And in connection with this strike wave the existence was discovered within our Party of several secret organisations of an essentially anti-communist nature, which strove to disintegrate the Party. All these defects revealed by the strike wave were exposed to the Party so glaringly, and with such a sobering effect, that it felt the necessity for internal Party changes.
The second cause of the acuteness of the question of internal Party policy precisely at the present moment was the wholesale release of Party comrades to go on vacation. It is natural, of course, for comrades to go on vacation, but this assumed such a mass character, that Party activity became considerably weaker precisely at the time when the discontent arose in the factories, and that greatly helped to expose the accumulated defects just at this period, in the autumn of this year.
Defects in Internal Party Life I have mentioned defects in our Party life that were exposed in the autumn of this year, and which brought up the question of improving internal Party life. What are these defects in internal Party life? Is it that the Party line was wrong, as some comrades think; or that, although the Party's line was correct, in practice it departed from the right road, was distorted because of certain subjective and objective conditions?
I think that the chief defect in our internal Party life is that, although the Party's line, as expressed in the decisions of our congresses, is correct, in the localities (not everywhere, of course, but in certain districts) it was put into practice in an incorrect way. While the proletarian-democratic line of our Party was correct, the way it was put into practice in the localities resulted in cases of bureaucratic distortion of this line.
That is the chief defect. The existence of contradictions between the basic Party line as laid down by the Congresses (Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth), and the way our organisations put this line into practice in the locali-ties—that is the foundation of all the defects in internal Party life.
The Party line says that the major questions of our Party activities, except, of course, those that brook no delay, or those that are military or diplomatic secrets, must without fail be discussed at Party meetings. That is what the Party line says. But in Party practice in the localities, not everywhere, of course, it was considered that there is really no great need for a number of questions concerning internal Party practice to be discussed at Party meetings since the Central Committee and the other leading organisations will decide these questions.
The Party line says that our Party officials must without fail be elected unless there are insuperable obstacles to this, such as absence of the necessary Party standing, and so forth. You know that, according to the Party rules, secretaries of Gubernia Committees must have a pre-October Party standing, secretaries of Uyezd Committees must have at least three years', and units secretaries a year's, Party standing. In Party practice, however, it was often considered that since a certain Party standing was needed, no real elections were needed.
The Party line says that the Party membership must be kept informed about the work of the economic organisations, the factories and trusts, for, naturally, our Party units are morally responsible to the non-Party masses for the defects in the factories. Nevertheless, in Party practice it was considered that since there is a Central Committee which issues directives to the economic organisations, and since these economic organisations are bound by those directives, the latter will be carried out without control from below by the mass of the Party membership.
The Party line says that responsible workers in different branches of work, whether Party, economic, trade-union, or military workers, notwithstanding their specialisation in their own particular work, are interconnected, constitute inseparable parts of one whole, for they are all working in the common cause of the proletariat, which cannot be torn into parts. In Party practice, however, it was considered that since there is specialisation, division of labour according to properly Party activity and economic, military, etc., activity, the Party officials are not responsible for those working in the economic sphere, the latter are not responsible for the Party officials, and, in general, that the weakening and even loss of connection between them are inevitable.
Such, comrades, are, in general, the contradictions between the Party line, as registered in a number of decisions of our Congresses, from the Tenth to the Twelfth, and Party practice.
I am far from blaming the local organisations for this distortion of the Party line, for, when you come to examine it, this is not so much the fault as the misfortune of our local organisations. The nature of this misfortune, and how things could have taken this turn, I shall tell you later on, but I wanted to register this fact in order to reveal this contradiction to you and then try to propose measures for improvement.
I am also far from considering our Central Committee to be blameless. It, too, has sinned, as has every institution and organisation; it, too, shares part of the blame and part of the misfortune: blame, at least, for not, whatever the reason, exposing these defects in time, and for not taking measures to eliminate them.
But that is not the point now. The point now is to ascertain the causes of the defects I have just spoken about. Indeed, how did these defects arise, and how can they be removed?
The Causes of the Defects The first cause is that our Party organisations have not yet rid themselves, or have still not altogether rid themselves, of certain survivals of the war period, a period that has passed, but has left in the minds of our responsible workers vestiges of the military regime in the Party. I think that these survivals find expression in the view that our Party is not an independently acting organism, not an independently acting, militant organisation of the proletariat, but something in the nature of a system of institutions, something in the nature of a complex of institutions in which there are officials of lower rank and officials of higher rank. That, comrades, is a profoundly mistaken view that has nothing in common with Marxism; that view is a survival that we have inherited from the war period, when we militarised the Party, when the question of the independent activity of the mass of the Party membership had necessarily to be shifted into the background and military orders were of decisive importance. I do not remember that this view was ever definitely expressed; nevertheless, it, or elements of it, still influences our work. Comrades, we must combat such views with all our might, for they are a very real danger and create favourable conditions for the distortion in practice of the essentially correct line of our Party.
The second cause is that our state apparatus, which is bureaucratic to a considerable degree, exerts a certain amount of pressure on the Party and the Party workers. In 1917, when we were forging ahead, towards October, we imagined that we would have a Commune, a free association of working people, that we would put an end to bureaucracy in government institutions, and that it would be possible, if not in the immediate period, then within two or three short periods, to transform the state into a free association of working people. Practice has shown, however, that this is still an ideal which is a long way off, that to rid the state of the elements of bureaucracy, to transform Soviet society into a free association of working people, the people must have a high level of culture, peace conditions must be fully guaranteed all around us so as to remove the necessity of maintaining a large standing army, which entails heavy expenditure and cumbersome administrative departments, the very existence of which leaves its impress upon all the other state institutions. Our state apparatus is bureaucratic to a considerable degree, and it will remain so for a long time to come. Our Party comrades work in this apparatus, and the situation—I might say the atmosphere—in this bureaucratic apparatus is such that it helps to bureaucratise our Party workers and our Party organisations.
The third cause of the defects, comrades, is that some of our units are not sufficiently active, they are backward, and in some cases, particularly in the border regions, they are even wholly illiterate. In these districts, the units display little activity and are politically and culturally backward. That circumstance, too, undoubtedly creates a favourable soil for the distortion of the Party line.
The fourth cause is the absence of a sufficient number of trained Party comrades in the localities. Recently, in the Central Committee, I heard the report of a representative of one of the Ukrainian organisations. The reporter was a very capable comrade who shows great promise. He said that of 130 units, 80 have secretaries who were appointed by the Gubernia Committee. In answer to the remark that this organisation was acting wrongly in this respect, the comrade pleaded that there were no literate people in the units, that they consisted of new members, that the units themselves ask for secretaries to be sent them, and so forth. I may grant that half of what this comrade said was an overstatement, that the matter is not only that there are no trained people in the units, but also that the Gubernia Committee was over-zealous and followed the old tradition. But even if the Gubernia Committee was correct only to the extent of fifty per cent, is it not obvious that if there are such units in the Ukraine, how many more like them must there be in the border regions, where the organisations are young, where there are fewer Party cadres and less literacy than in the Ukraine? That is also one of the factors that create favourable conditions for the distortion in practice of the essentially correct Party line.
Lastly, the fifth cause—insufficient information. We sent out too little information, and this applies primarily to the Central Committee, possibly because it is overburdened with work. We receive too little information from the localities. This must cease. This is also a serious cause of the defects that have accumulated within the Party.
How should the Defects in Internal Party Life be Removed ? What measures must be adopted to remove these defects?
The first thing is tirelessly, by every means, to combat the survivals and habits of the war period in our Party, to combat the erroneous view that our Party is a system of institutions, and not a militant organisation of the proletariat, which is intellectually vigorous, acts independently, lives a full life, is destroying the old and creating the new.
Secondly, the activity of the mass of the Party membership must be increased; all questions of interest to the membership in so far as they can be openly discussed must be submitted to it for open discussion, and the possibility ensured of free criticism of all proposals made by the different Party bodies. Only in this way will it be possible to convert Party discipline into really conscious, really iron discipline; only in this way will it be possible to increase the political, economic and cultural experience of the mass of Party members; only in this way will it be possible to create the conditions necessary to enable the Party membership, step by step, to promote new active workers, new leaders, from its ranks.
Thirdly, the principle of election must be applied in practice to all Party bodies and official posts, if there are no insuperable obstacles to this such as lack of the necessary Party standing, and so forth. We must eliminate the practice of ignoring the will of the majority of the organisations in promoting comrades to responsible
Party posts, and we must see to it that the principle of election is actually applied.
Fourthly, there must exist under the Central Committee and the Gubernia and Regional Committees permanently functioning conferences of responsible workers in all fields of work—economic, Party, trade-union and military; these conferences must be held regularly and discuss any question they consider it necessary to discuss; the interconnection between the workers in all fields must not be broken; all these workers must feel that they are all members of a single Party family, working in a common cause, the cause of the proletariat, which is indivisible; the Central Committee and the local organisations must create an environment that will enable the Party to acquire and test the experience of our responsible workers in all spheres of work.
Fifthly, our Party units in the factories must be drawn into dealing with the various questions relating to the course of affairs in the respective enterprises and trusts. Things must be so arranged that the units are kept informed about the work of the administrations of our enterprises and trusts and are able to exert an influence on this work. You, as representatives of units, are aware how great is the moral responsibility of our factory units to the non-Party masses for the course of affairs in the factories. For the unit to be able to lead and win the following of the non-Party masses in the factory, for it to be able to bear responsibility for the course of affairs in the factory—and it certainly has a moral responsibility to the non-Party masses for defects in the work of the factory—the unit must be kept informed about these affairs, it must be possible for it to influence them in one way or another. Therefore, the units must be drawn into the discussion of economic questions relating to their factories, and economic conferences of representatives of the factory units in a given trust must be called from time to time to discuss questions relating to the affairs of the trust. This is one of the surest ways both of enlarging the economic experience of the Party membership and of organising control from below.
Sixthly, the quality of the membership of our Party units must be improved. Zinoviev has already said in an article of his that here and there the quality of the membership of our Party units is below that of the surrounding non-Party masses.
That statement, of course, must not be generalised and applied to all the units. It would be more exact to say the following for example: our Party units would be on a much higher cultural level than they are now, and would have much greater authority among non-Party people, if we had not denuded these units, if we had not taken from them people we needed for economic, administrative, trade-union and all sorts of other work. If our working-class comrades, the cadres we have taken from the units during the past six years, were to return to their units, does it need proof that those units would stand head and shoulders above all the non-Party workers, even the most advanced? Precisely because the Party has no other cadres with which to improve the state apparatus, precisely because the Party will be obliged to continue using that source, our units will remain on a somewhat unsatisfactory cultural level unless we take urgent measures to improve the quality of their membership. First of all, Party educational work in the units must be increased to the utmost; furthermore, we must get rid of the excessive formalism our local organisations sometimes display in accepting working-class comrades into the Party. I think that we must not allow ourselves to be bound by formalism; the Party can, and must, create easier conditions for the acceptance of new members from the ranks of the working class. That has already begun in the local organisations. The Party must take this matter in hand and launch an organised campaign for creating easier access to the Party for new members from workers at the bench.
Seventhly, work must be intensified among the non-Party workers. This is another means of improving the internal Party situation, of increasing the activity of the Party membership. I must say that our organisations are still paying little attention to the task of drawing non-Party workers into our Soviets. Take, for example, the elections to the Moscow Soviet that are being held now. I consider that one of the big defects in these elections is that too few non-Party people are being elected. It is said that there exists a decision of the organisation to the effect that at least a certain number, a certain percentage, etc., of non-Party people are to be elected; but I see that, in fact, a far smaller number is being elected. It is said that the masses are eager to elect only Communists. I have my doubts about that, comrades. I think that unless we show a certain degree of confidence in the non-Party people they may answer by becoming very distrustful of our organisations. This confidence in the non-Party people is absolutely necessary, comrades. Communists must be induced to withdraw their candidatures.
Speeches must not be delivered urging the election only of Communists; non-Party people must be encouraged, they must be drawn into the work of administering the state. We shall gain by this and in return receive the reciprocal confidence of the non-Party people in our organisations. The elections in Moscow are an example of the degree to which our organisations are beginning to isolate themselves within their Party shell instead of enlarging their field of activity and, step by step, rallying the non-Party people around themselves.
Eighthly, work among the peasants must be intensified. I do not know why our village units, which in some places are wilting, are losing their members and are not trusted much by the peasants (this must be admitted)—I do not know why, for instance, two practical tasks cannot be set these units: firstly, to interpret and popularise the Soviet laws which affect peasant life; secondly, to agitate for and disseminate elementary agronomic knowledge, if only the knowledge that it is necessary to plough the fields in proper time, to sift seed, etc. Do you know, comrades, that if every peasant were to decide to devote a little labour to the sifting of seed, it would be possible without land improvement, and without introducing new machines, to obtain an increase in crop yield amounting to about ten poods per dessiatin? And what does an increase in crop yield of ten poods per dessiatin mean? It means an increase in the gross crop of a thousand million poods per annum. And all this could be achieved without great effort. Why should not our village units take up this matter? Is it less important than talking about Curzon's policy? The peasants would then realise that the Communists have stopped engaging in empty talk and have got down to real business; and then our village units would win the boundless confidence of the peasants.
There is no need for me to stress how necessary it is, for improving and reviving Party life, to intensify Party and political educational work among the youth, the source of new cadres, in the Red Army, among women delegates, and among non-Party people in general.
Nor will I dwell upon the importance of increasing the interchange of information, about which I have already spoken, of increasing the supply of information from the top downwards and from below upwards.
Such, comrades, are the measures for improvement, the course towards internal Party democracy which the Central Committee set as far back as September of this year, and which must be put into practice by all Party organisations from top to bottom.
I would now like to deal with two extremes, two obsessions, on the question of workers' democracy that were to be noted in some of the discussion articles in Pravda.
The first extreme concerns the election principle. It manifests itself in some comrades wanting to have elections "throughout." Since we stand for the election principle, let us go the whole hog in electing! Party standing? What do we want that for? Elect whomever you please. That is a mistaken view, comrades. The Party will not accept it. Of course, we are not now at war; we are in a period of peaceful development. But we are now living under the NEP. Do not forget that, comrades. The Party began the purge not during, but after the war. Why? Because, during the war, fear of defeat drew the Party together into one whole, and some of the disruptive elements in the Party were compelled to keep to the general line of the Party, which was faced with the question of life or death. Now these bonds have fallen away, for we are not now at war; now we have the NEP, we have permitted a revival of capitalism, and the bourgeoisie is reviving. True, all this helps to purge the Party, to strengthen it; but on the other hand, we are being enveloped in a new atmosphere by the nascent and growing bourgeoisie, which is not very strong yet, but which has already succeeded in beating some of our co-operatives and trading organisations in internal trade. It was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party began the purge and reduced its membership by half; it was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party decided that, in order to protect our organisations from the contagion of the NEP, it was necessary, for example, to hinder the influx of non-proletarian elements into the Party, that it was necessary that Party officials should have a definite Party standing, and so forth. Was the Party right in taking these precautionary measures, which restricted "expanded" democracy? I think it was. That is why I think that we must have democracy, we must have the election principle, but the restrictive measures that were adopted by the Eleventh and Twelfth Congresses, at least the chief ones, must still remain in force.
The second extreme concerns the question of the limits of the discussion. This extreme manifests itself in some comrades demanding unlimited discussion; they think that the discussion of problems is the be all and end all of Party work and forget about the other aspect of Party work, namely, action, which calls for the implementation of the Party's decisions. At all events, this was the impression I gained from the short article by Radzin, who tried to substantiate the principle of unlimited discussion by a reference to Trotsky, who is alleged to have said that "the Party is a voluntary association of like-minded people." I searched for that sentence in Trotsky's works, but could not find it. Trotsky could scarcely have uttered it as a finished formula for the definition of the Party; and if he did utter it, he could scarcely have stopped there. The Party is not only an association of like-minded people; it is also an association of like-acting people, it is a militant association of like-acting people who are fighting on a common ideological basis (programme, tactics). I think that the reference to Trotsky is out of place, for I know Trotsky as one of the members of the Central Committee who most of all stress the active side of Party work. I think, therefore, that Radzin himself must bear responsibility for this definition. But what does this definition lead to? One of two possibilities: either that the Party will degenerate into a sect, into a philosophical school, for only in such narrow organisations is complete like-minded-ness possible; or that it will become a permanent debating society, eternally discussing and eternally arguing, until the point is reached where factions form and the Party is split. Our Party cannot accept either of these possibilities. This is why I think that the discussion of problems is needed, a discussion is needed, but limits must be set to such discussion in order to safeguard the Party, to safeguard this fighting unit of the proletariat, against degenerating into a debating society.
In concluding my report, I must warn you, comrades, against these two extremes. I think that if we reject both these extremes and honestly and resolutely steer the course towards internal Party democracy that the Central Committee set already in September of this year, we shall certainly achieve an improvement in our Party work. (Applause.)
Pravda, No. 277, December 6, 1923
Notes 1. This refers to the commission set up in conformity with the decision of the Political Bureau and of the Plenum of the Central Committee of the R.C.P.(B.) which took place on September 23-25, 1923.
Collected Works Index Volume 5 Index Works by Decade J. V. Stalin Archive Marxists Internet Archive

About two weeks ago I thought about writing a story under 1,000 words. Would you believe ... 2,093 words? Enjoy!
At 9 PM, my roommate Martine pulled her knees closer to her chest and corrected her balance on the bay window bench seat. She never once looked at me as I finished neatening up the living room behind her. I didn’t expect her to notice me. She was waiting for her new love interest, Baylun. Nothing short of setting her clothes on fire would break her concentration before he arrived.
That’s why I didn’t bother to ask her if I looked okay. Yes, I wanted to make a good impression on Baylun because being presentable is being polite. Also, I didn’t want to give Martine any reason to leave me without her monthly half of the rent. If she left despite me being as perfect as I can be, well, nothing I can do about that. And given how intensely she was staring out the window, I wouldn’t be surprised if she expected Baylun to propose tonight. On their third date.
As if she’d read my mind, she spoke without turning her head. “Would you add him to the lease? I mean, if you like Baylun?”
“My Aunt Gloria might okay it. There’s enough room here. We can ask.” Why did I feel the need to appease her and pretend I wouldn’t be uncomfortable as the third wheel in my aunt’s rental house? My best guess is because appeasing and pretending are the cornerstones of my life, I’m very good at them.
Luckily, Martine was already not listening. “He’s here,” she whispered, sliding off the bench seat. After picking up her silk shawl, she partially opened our front door. Footsteps coming up our front steps stopped at what I presumed was the top step.
Beaming, she opened the door and invited him in. The man who entered had to duck to get in and I had to stop myself for apologizing to him. He was well dressed, looked like the proverbial “million dollars” and as he bent to give Martine a kiss on the cheek, I saw his eyes.
I froze for a moment, staring at the wrinkles around his eyes. Inhaling sharply, I blinked and shifted my gaze to Martine. She’d described Baylun as mature for his age. She’d failed to tell me he was at least middle age. That may sound ageist and I’m sorry for that but Martine and I are both 22 years old and Baylun looked twice that. He might be kind and, as Martine mentioned more than once, rich, but he might also be constantly on the lookout for a younger model than the one currently on his arm. Far be it from me to pass judgment without proof, but I would need more than Martine’s affirmation to feel comfortable with him as a roommate.
Introductions were short if not sweet. Baylun extended his hand and shook mine, which gave me some relief. If he’d kissed my hand I would undoubtedly have done nothing except internally cringe.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looking first at Martine who nodded enthusiastically. Then he looked at me and raised his eyebrows as if waiting for a reply. My jaw dropped, in real time.
Martine stared at me for half a second before jumping in to save me. “Lise was just getting her sweater, right, Lise?”
Thanks for covering for me, Martine. My plans for the night included pjs as soon as you guys left, but how could I say no? Except for flat out saying “No” which would be unthinkable.
“Right, I forgot it, and where are we going?” I squished in behind Martine, reached into the closet and took the top sweater from the neatly folded pile in the sweater drawer.
Baylun made a noise that was probably meant to sound like laughter. “Heddon’s Hill. To see the stars. Cloudless night tonight!”
Martine clapped her hands a couple of times, giving me a jolt of second-hand embarrassment. “Baylun asked me to keep it a secret. He brought a bottle of really good wine. It’s in his car, right, babe?”
Baylun didn’t say anything as he put his hand on her cheek like she was a child. She stared at him, as if in a trance. He didn’t purr audibly but that’s the best way I can describe his facial expression. Then I looked him in the eyes and the silence that followed hurt my ears.
A wave of panic immobilized me. I looked away and struggled to put on the sweater.
When he spoke, he whispered but it felt like thunder to my ears. “Perhaps a heavier outer layer?”
Martine snapped back into reality. “You look cold. Grab a hoodie, we’ll meet you in the car.”
That was the out I needed. “You know what, I feel awful. Go ahead, enjoy. I’ll take cold meds and try to be awake when you get back, to hear all about it.” To convey sadness at missing out on being a third wheel and resigned acceptance of impending illness, I grimaced and shrugged.
Martine considered me for a moment before agreeing. She leaned gently against Baylun’s arm and squeezed his hand. “Could we be back in an hour, babe?”
He turned his full attention on her and nodded. “Yes. We will. Goodbye, Lise.”
I thought about saying goodbye and decided a coughing fit would be more suitable. As I covered my mouth with my left elbow, I waved weakly with my right hand. The two lovebirds got into the car and when I heard it backing down the driveway, I poured a couple of teaspoons of night time anti-cold liquid down the sink. To make sure I smelled like I’d taken it, I licked the spoon before washing it.
When they returned, Martine walked in at a slower pace than usual and Baylun put his arm under hers as soon as they were both inside, so she could lean on him. She didn’t seem upset. She also didn’t make eye contact with me. My first thought was she had a bit too much wine, but we’ve had drinks together. She’s always been a little louder, a little more animated after a bit of alcohol. I started wondering if she’d consumed something other than wine while stargazing. Not judging, just trying to find an explanation that didn’t scare me about her health.
Instead of speaking to me, Baylun nodded and continued supporting Martine, helping her through the house. I reasoned he was taking her to the bathroom or her bedroom, so I squeezed in beside him and ran to open her bedroom door. Baylun led her to the far side of her bed so he was facing me, and helped her to lie down.
Except he didn’t lay her down right away. He held her halfway between standing and lying down, stared into my eyes and put his mouth on her neck.
I know how this sounds. My brain undoubtedly recognized the set-up. Yet I was unprepared for what happened.
Baylun retracted his lips, revealing two bloody fangs and touched Martine’s neck as if searching for something. Just before his fingers found them, I saw two wounds on her neck. He positioned his fingers so his fangs went into the wounds. Martine shuddered for a second, then sighed and stopped moving.
I inhaled sharply. Nothing made sense and I couldn’t remember how to move. When I realized my hand was still on the door handle, I leaned on it slightly, turned and ran to the front door.
Baylun met me there. I didn’t hear him walking or running. He wasn’t at the door and then he was, positioned to prevent me from opening it. He wasn’t frowning. He didn’t lean towards me or touch me, for which I was grateful.
But his eyes. They sparkled, they were bright and lively, and they were wrinkle-free. He looked my age, not middle aged. He looked like the guy I’d met an hour earlier, only younger.
I took a step backwards.
He took a step forward and spoke, his voice quiet and calm.
“If you say anything to her about what you saw, I will deny it and she will believe me. Then I will show you what it’s like to burn in hell.”
This was the second time in one night life handed me a “get out of trouble” card and I grabbed it with both hands. Frowning with the hopes of presenting as confused, I asked, “Okay, I thought it was very kind of you to bring her home, but I think I get it. What’s our story if she asks?”
He crossed his arms and studied me for a long moment. “I’m glad you understand. You can take credit for getting her into bed.”
I nodded and brought my left hand to my mouth, trying to look thoughtful. “And you asked her to text when she gets up tomorrow? Or is that too much?”
He chuckled and uncrossed his arms. “That’s just what I was thinking.” He stared at my mouth.
A rush of fear froze me in place. “Everything okay?”
“It will be.” He pointed at the right side of my mouth.
A sharp pain on the side of my face woke me up. It was still dark. I was in my bed. I tried sitting up and learned my pillowcase was stuck to the corner of my mouth.
Instant panic. I picked up the pillow and ran to the bathroom where a quick glance in the mirror above the sink revealed the substance wasn’t glue, it was blood. As awful as that was, my initial reaction was “Better than glue.” A little warm water on a face cloth eased the pillowcase off my skin and I set the case and face cloth on the counter.
For a brief moment I felt absolute relief. I held onto the sides of the sink and took a deep breath.
A drop of blood landed on the right side of the sink.
Blood could be from biting my lip, or inside of my cheek or even my tongue in my sleep. Or a nosebleed.
Another drop of blood landed on the sink.
It was so weird. Nothing hurt. Not my nose, not my lip, not my tongue. I struggled to figure out what I did, why I would be bleeding. Did I do something foolish before I went to bed?
I couldn’t remember going to bed.
Time to look in the mirror. There wasn’t any obvious damage, so I used my fingers to move my lips away from the right side of my mouth.
My canine tooth was missing. Another, sharper tooth was working its way out of the gums. That’s where the blood was coming from.
I leaned in and looked more closely at it. The emerging canine was definitely tearing through the gum, making it bleed.
A scream worked its way up my throat. I stood up, ramrod straight, shut my mouth and gently placed the face cloth on it.
I tiptoed down the hall to Martine’s bedroom door. It was shut. She was breathing in a regular pattern, not quite snoring.
I came back to my bedroom and checked my phone. 4:45 AM. When did I come to bed? Baylun was here, I remembered him with Martine and then at the door. Seems like he’s gone, unless he’s sitting in the dark in the living room or kitchen.
Any other day, Martine would be waking up in two hours. If she does, I don’t doubt she’ll be excited to hear Baylun wants her to text him.
I want to throw up. A few hours ago, life felt so normal. Now a giant canine tooth is pushing its way into my mouth. Maybe the other one is, too. I don’t care to find out. I also don’t want to go to the hospital where I’ll run out of answers before the staff run out of questions.
Maybe I can take a couple of days off work, see if the new dental situation affects my sleep schedule. Maybe I can find a night job.
Or maybe I’m a vampire, condemned to a life of hunting humans and being hunted by humans. I’m going to wait until Martine gets up before posting this. She might have a lot more information on this.
My mind is clearer now. My memories are back. It’s time for me to disappear from Martine’s and my Aunt Gloria’s lives. I can do it. I must do it. For their safety, and for mine. Everything is not okay. Not yet.

A fanfiction of The Nature of Predators by SpacePaladin15 https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/u19xpa/the_nature_of_predators/
Previous Prologue Next
Memory Transcription Subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized Earth time]: August 21, 2136
Walking into the lab, we were welcomed by a Pokemon that looked oddly familiar to me, a pink creature with predatory eyes and small wings that looked completely vestigial. It wasn’t until I saw the Human inspecting a large screen embedded in the wall that I recognised them. Lilith and Sara, who were among the first Terrans to have visited Venlil Prime. Lilith, whose species was the ‘Clefable’ if I remember correctly, gestured for the three of us to come further into the lab.
“Hello there, thank you for coming so soon after settling in! It seems a lot of Venlil are quite excited to do the Infinity Energy tests.”
I give a slightly nervous ear flick in response.
“I uh, really just wanted to get this over and done with.”
“Right, well in that case you’ll be glad to know that this takes no time at all. It’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll have your exchange partners beside you through the whole process.”
I look up at Marcel and Felix, who both give me further reassuring glances. Marcel seems a little nervous though, awkwardly standing just in front of the door and obviously having no idea what he should be doing. As the Clefable leads me over to a chair and gestures for me to take a seat, she passes over a piece of paper and a pen.
“This is the consent form, please read it out completely and carefully before writing your basic information and signature.”
Lilith then bounds away to converse with Sara, who is still looking at the large screen teeming with strange writing and graphs. As I read through the consent form, I only grow more worried.
‘Permanent Infinity Energy infusion.’
‘Monitored for remainder of Space Corps service.’
‘Possibility of previously unknown side effects.’
I look over to Marcel and Felix, beckoning them over with a wave of my tail. Marcel kneels down beside the chair, bringing the three of us to roughly eye level as Felix rests on his shoulder.
“Sorry, but can you two just… stay close? This seems a bit more intense than I was expecting.”
Felix nods furiously, followed by Marcel giving a small, closed mouth smile.
“Of course, we’ll be right here.”
“After this is over, we can all get some food from the cafeteria. A nice salad or something, alright?”
The Human’s suggestion sounds nice, and my tail sways in agreement. I sign the form after reading through it a second time, and Lilith soon comes over to collect it. As she does so, I see Sara walking over with some wires and wool clips. She places them on a nearby table before turning to finally address me.
“Hello Mr Slanek, sorry for the wait. It’s just, the data we’ve gathered so far from the other Venlil is beyond fascinating. It's an amazing opportunity to investigate how life not native to Earth reacts with Infinity Energy and uh… you probably don’t care, sorry.”
With a lightly red hue showing in her cheeks, she grabs the wires and clips, and gets started on attaching them to various points on my body. From my knees to my paws, snout, ears, stomach, chest, tail… almost everywhere, really. This all only makes my nerves grow even more.
“Now, just as a warning, this will probably hurt a bit. It’s only for a moment though, and it just means that everything is working.”
As Sara attaches the last clip to the wool on my back, she walks back over to large screen on the opposite wall, which I am surprised to find now displays a wireframe model of myself. I notice my paws are beginning to shake slightly, and I turn towards my exchange partners, hoping to find solace. Not so long ago, I would never have even fathomed the idea of looking to predators for comfort, but now…
I reach out a shaking paw towards them. After hesitating for a moment, a look of surprise coming over his face, Marcel reaches out and takes hold of it. Felix scurries down the Human’s arm and places his own small paw on top of mine as Marcel gives it a gentle squeeze.
Turning back to the rest of the lab, Sara is swiping her hand to rotate the wireframe model of my body, while Lilith is retrieving something from a large, formerly locked box nearby. She pulls out a small yellow crystal, and walks back over to me. Sara sidles up beside her partner, and double checks the wire clips one last time as the Clefable holds out the crystal to me.
“This is a revive, which will inject Infinity Energy directly into you. Make sure you hold onto it tight, ok?”
I take a deep breath, giving Marcel’s hand and Felix’s paw a gentle squeeze as I do so.
“Understood.”
I reach out with my other paw, and grab onto the revive. For a moment, nothing happens, but then the revive begins to glow. I shut my eyes tight against the blinding light, and tighten my grip on the crystal. A strange sensation, like waves of pressure, emanate from where the revive touches my paw. Through my arm, across my chest, up my neck and down my navel un-
“BRAKH!”
I cry out as pain suddenly engulfs my snout and legs. A loud beeping noise comes from the clips attached to them, which I silently pray means that everything is working as it should. It feels like my legs are trying to rip themselves apart at the knees, and I understand instantly why I’m sat down for this. My snout too lights up, as if on fire without the heat, forcing me to grit my teeth until my jaw starts hurting as well from the preassure alone. I tighten my grip on both the revive and my partners. I feel weight shifting, and Felix’s paw disappears. Not a moment later, something warm and fuzzy jumps up onto the chair beside me, reaching up to rest a paw on my shoulder.
“It’s alright, we’re right here.”
I go to wrap my tail around him, only to find something strange. My tail has gone numb. The mixture of sensations, from numbness to pain, continues for a little while. As the revive breaks down into grey dust, I can finally open my eyes and unclench my teeth. Steadily, the searing pain fades, leaving my tail numb and my snout and legs sore. I breathe deeply again, and I turn my attention to Felix and Marcel. I retrieve my paw from Marcel’s grip and Felix hops back down from the chair. The Human reaches over to lightly pat me on the back.
“There we go, all over now. You did great, Slanek.”
“Th-thanks.”
Lilith comes over and begins detaching the clips from my wool, while Sara is already tapping away at the screen, the wireframe model of my body now looking very different than it was before. The majority of it is now coloured a stark white, although notably my snout and legs are a dimmer shade of muted grey. The only splash of actual colour is in my tail, the entire limb a vivid purple, most intense at the tip. After inspecting it for a moment, Sara turns back around to address me.
“Thank you for coming, Mr Slanek. The full results of this test will be sent to your holopad shortly, but I’ll give you the most important information now.”
Sara taps the screen a few times, and labels written in Venscript appear as a key for the colours.
White – Mixed
Violet – Poison
Grey – Unknown
“Your results are consistent with what we’ve seen in all the other Venlil that have been tested so far. Most of your body contain a mixture of all Types of IE, similar to Humans. Different Venlil seem to have the Poison IE concentrate in different areas of the body, I’ve seen it in arms, abdomen, throat, wool and elsewhere. For you it’s in the tail, which so far seems fairly common. The grey zones are the most interesting, as they’re in the same areas for each and every Venlil; the snout and legs. Combine that with how this energy isn’t quite Normal but also not Typeless, not to mention it’s almost complete lack of reactivity to external or internal stimuli… it will certainly be an area of research I'll happily dive into soon.”
As Sara explains the results of the test, Marcel helps me to stand up again. At first, I’m a little unsteady as my legs still feel slightly odd, but leaning on his arm helps. The numb feeling in my tail slowly fades, and I experimentally shake it back and forth a few times. There is… Poison in it? It doesn’t feel any different, at least at the moment. After Lilith and Sara once again thank me for my cooperation, the three of us are ushered out of the lab, left standing together in the hallway as another mini herd files in after us. I turn to look up at my companions, a slight bloom making its way onto my face.
“Hey, uh, sorry for what happened in there. To predators it’s probably a show of weakness to need someone sticking nearby but-”
“Okay, we’re nipping that ‘weakness’ shit in the bud right now.”
Felix’s surprising angry voice catches me off guard, and for a second I’m worried that I said something to make him mad. I realise that, in a way, I had… but not for the reason I thought.
“Needing a friend ain’t weakness, Slanek. Just look at Marc and I!”
Marcel smiles at the Buizel, before turning his gaze back down at me. His predatory gaze seems stern, and yet somehow friendly, despite that being essentially oxymoronic.
“Slanek, if I’ve learned anything from my time in the military, it’s that ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ are meaningless words in isolation. People can only reach their full potential when they have others lifting them up, whether they be a Human or Pokemon. I doubt Venlil are any different.”
Something flashes through my mind, a memory that Marcel's words invoked. Of course. One of the first pieces of Terran media I saw after First Contact; 'The Power of Us'. Felix nods along excitedly, jumping down from the Human's shoulder to be a bit closer to my level.
“Never call yourself weak again, alright? Marcel and I were already growing stronger with just the two of us, but now we have a brand-new friend? The three of us together will be unstoppable!”
Marcel snickers slightly.
“Not really the angle I was going for, but sure. Anyway, that packet of chips wasn't nearly enough. Like I said earlier, let’s go grab something from the cafeteria, alright?”
Seemingly immediately forgetting the previous topic, Felix’s eyes light up and his tails whir into action.
“Oh! I hope they have Wacan berries!”
As Felix rapidly ascends back up onto Marcel’s shoulder, my own tail begins to sway back and forth again. The predators’ kind words lifted my spirits and cast aside the embarrassment I had felt, spurring me to happily step forwards and follow the Human’s lead towards the station’s cafeteria.
As we made our way through the halls, I paid more attention to the various pairs and trios we passed. The Venlil all ranged from bubbling with excitement, a spring in their step as they walked joyfully beside their partners, to barely containing their fear, shaking slightly as they stuck close to the walls and avoided looking at most of the more predatory looking Pokemon. I wasn’t at either extreme, though I was leaning towards the former. I strode beside Marcel with contentment, mentally thanking my past self for signing up for the program. I was nervous to meet them at first, but it took almost no time at all for me to recognise the friends I had already been speaking to over text for whole herds of paws at this point.
When we reached the cafeteria, the place was already alive with many Terrans and Venlil. Some sat just with their exchange partners, while others gathered into larger herds, with the countless conversations happening between them melding together with the clinking of cutlery. Even out here on this station, with by far the strangest creatures in the Universe, the sound of people enjoying each other’s company was oh so familiar.
The three of us collected our meals and decided just to sit by ourselves, eventually finding a spot near a rather short Venlil sitting with a large, purple serpentine Pokemon that was presumably their partner. As Marcel and I set our meals down on the table, Felix quickly grabs a pastry from Marcel’s tray.
“I call dibs on the Wacan muffin!”
Marcel has selected some sort of soup for himself, while I chose a simple bunt leaf salad, although my serving seemed to have some sort of fruit in it that I didn’t recognise. I prodded the yellow chunks around, trying to determine if I had gotten some underripe juicefruit or something, catching Marcel’s attention.
“That’s Shuca berry. Not really my thing, but it’s decently popular.”
“Oh, it’s an Earth fruit?”
“Yep, looks like the kitchen’s experimenting with mixing cuisines. This soup is… surprisingly spicy.”
Looking up at the Human, I find that his face has turned a slight reddish hue, the flush no doubt signifying that he was struggling. A quick peek at the contents of his meal provides an answer, making me whistle slightly in laughter.
“Ah, that would be firefruit. Fitting name, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, you can say that again.”
As I watch my Human partner gulp down his glass of water, I pick up a few bunt leaves along with a small chunk of the Shuca berry and pop them in my mouth. The yellow fruit goes well with the bunt leaves, providing a mild but nice sweetness with the slightest kick of spice. Though, obviously not nearly as much as Marcel’s firefruit. The Human soon excuses himself to refill his water, Felix throwing a teasing quip his way between bites of the muffin.
“Fire Type doesn’t suit you, Marc!”
While trying to stifle my laughter at my friend’s misfortune, a slightly alarmed, raspy voice coming from my right catches my attention.
“Ssssevik, are you alright?”
Turning to my right, I find the large serpent Pokemon sitting nearby looking at her Venlil partner with concern. He is holding a paw over his stomach and groaning slightly.
“Y-yeah Arbok, I’m fi-fi -hurk-”
He gives a horrible sound somewhere between a burp and a retch, grabbing the attention of a few other people around us.
“Wassss it the berriesss?”
“N-no it’s -hurk- I think is the Pois- -hurk-“
Thinking quickly, one of the nearby Humans passes the Venlil a plastic bag. He accepts it and tries to thank them, only for his attempt to be interrupted by more retching. Just as he seems to lose control of his meal completely, he cries out.
“Gastro Acid!”
Instead of the typically yellowy green, the Venlil expels a thick, deep purple fluid into the bag. After a single powerful heave, the Venlil looks back up, seemingly slightly dizzy. A moment later, a sizzling sound can be heard coming from the bag, the bottom of which soon breaks. The acidic substance spills onto the floor, having corroded through the plastic like it was nothing. For a while, nobody makes a sound, nor barely moves. Venlil, Human and Pokemon alike in our little section of the cafeteria are all staring at the poor little Venlil who in turn has his eyes glued onto the now useless plastic bag. As for the purple acid, it soon fizzles away into nothing, leaving the floor spotless with no evidence that it ever existed.
The sound of approaching footsteps makes me turn around with a slight jump, finding Marcel returning with a new glass of water. His eyes dart first to the silent crowd, then to the small Venlil, then finally to me and Felix.
“Uh, did I miss something?”
Previous Prologue Next
~~~~~~~

NoPokedex

Humans - Typeless
Gojid - Steel/Rock

• Sovlin: Metal Claw & Rollout

Venlil - Normal /Poison

• Kam: ??? & Poison Jab
• Slanek: ??? & ???

Arxur - Dragon/???

• Isif: Dragon Pulse & ???

Tilfish - Bug/Dark
Zurulian - ???/???
Farsul - ???/???
Kolshian - ???/???
Yotul - ???/???
Mazic - ???/???
Dossur - ???/???
Sivkit - ???/???
Krakotl - Flying/???
Harchen - ???/???
Duertan - Flying/???
Thafki - Wate???
Sulean - ???/???
Iftali - ???/???
Drezjin - Flying/???
Jaur - ???/???
Letian - ???/???
Leshee - ???/???
Yulpa - ???/???

Welcome back to a little more MARRIED Mary Mania before I wrap things up with The Abridged Goblinization. I decided that this bit deserved its own chapter. Some of you seem to be entertained by Mary (or at least entertained by your own loathing of her), so I hope this will prove amusing. In my life, I've encountered an inordinate number of low-key lolcows (probably because I was far too patient and far too passive for far too long), so I might as well throw just enough distortion on the page to protect the good guys and the genuinely reformed beards. But I'm also gonna shine a bright, unflattering spotlight on the lolcows, creeps, weirdos, pervs, and BEARDS, both neck and leg.
And I'll very, very cautiously tiptoe over the bit where I do a bunch of mental gymnastics, squint my eyes, tilt my head, and convince myself that dating Whisky might be a welcome change of pace. I have no delusions when I look back on it. This was a dumb move in retrospect, but all the mental gymnastics in the world can't bring me to a reasonable scenario where I was psychic and thus able to predict what he'd become once he stopped pretending to be a gentleman. Nor can the most elite, Olympic-level mental gymnastics execute a double salto layout with a half-twist perfectly enough to force me to concede the "logical point" that I should have spotted warning signs that I'd never freakin' seen before. Okay, that's enough saltiness for today. Don't worry. This chapter mostly focuses on Mary's mania. Whisky's just kind of... there.
So there I was... dating a guy who called when he said he would, remained constant in his affections, never asked for weird stuff in the sack (in fact, we weren't even intimate at that point), and claimed to be a secular humanist who practiced elements of Hinduism (as opposed to conveniently becoming born-again whenever it suited his needs to wallow in shame). And we seemed to have similar enough tastes in media, which made for pleasant movie nights and enjoyable conversations about nerdy stuff. It felt like a step up. It felt safe. At that point in time, I was content.
But here's a shameful admission for ya. My original intention was to make Whisky the "for now guy." I knew I could do better. I was formally educated, I was in shape, I was normatively attractive, and I tended to be successful in both my theatrical and academic endeavors. Plus, I was super friendly and good with people. Whisky was kind of a bump on a log. Sure, he seemed nice. He was sometimes able to make interesting conversation. But my overall sentiment regarding the relationship was, to quote Whisky's favorite catch phrase, "Meh."
I knew he was mooching off his mysterious "big bro," and he wasn't doing this with the intention of saving up and eventually becoming self-sufficient. He just kicked up a fuss whenever he wanted something, and... it usually appeared. I still thought he was physically unattractive, too. I hate nasty-ass beards, I have a strong preference for shorter guys (they don't need to be as short as Dennis, but I don't exactly love being towered over), and Whisky had whatever the dude version of resting bitch face is. I admonished myself for being shallow and decided to soldier on. Date after date. And I did kind of get used to all the shallow things I objected to.
But, really... Dating Whisky at all was a dick move on my part. Then again, how many Nice Guy (TM)s want girls to do exactly what I did? Not attracted? Think he's kind of a bum? Find him a bit boring? Just give him a chance!!! Go on a crap-ton of dates with him until you like the familiarity enough to settle for him. That's the key to a healthy relationship!!! It never works. You could flip this around and apply it to Nice Girls who want pity dates, too.
Anyway. Lucy knew I was dating Whisky, and she thought it was great. She was honestly just happy to see that I was no longer pining over Dennis and that Whisky was no longer getting relentlessly stalked by Mary. Speaking of Mary... She'd had an imaginary dramatic breakup with Scumbanger not long after she crashed Lucy's brunch. Murky aside... The following summer, I'd do another show with the pervy pest and I'd find out that Mary had given the former Rum Tum Tugger a tug in the parking lot of The Imp and had let him motorboat her. When dozens of lewd messaged filled his inbox the following day, the most indiscriminate playboy I'd ever met in my freakin' life blocked that clingy legbeard's number and never had any further contact with her. But seeing as neither of them are especially reliable sources, my best guess is that the truth is somewhere in between.
After the dramatic "breakup" with Scumbanger, Mary immediately became obsessed with the new tech guy (and his wife). They allegedly had something of a throuple situation going on, but no one ever witnessed any hard evidence of this. And then Mary and Tech Guy's wife allegedly had a catfight in the middle of the fancy restaurant where the three spent their date nights. Mary did have a shiner and a scraped knee for a few weeks, and she intimated to me that Chuckie was actually the one responsible for her looking a little rough...
I believed her because there was something very different about her demeanor when she told me this. When she was in larger groups, she just screeched about how she thought the catfight was foreplay until Tech Guy ghosted her. Yet again, we'll never know the truth. But I err on the side of belief when someone tells me that DV is going on in their home, even if I generally regard that person as a delusional pathological liar. Plus, Mary had never badmouthed Chuckie before and she never made excuses for her philandering. She just felt entitled to any ding-dong she desired. Bottom line, I think there was an unfortunate incident, and I urged her to report it. She didn't; but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
And, yes. I think we're allowed to show compassion for Mary if Chuckie did indeed do what she was accusing him of. She absolutely deserved to get dumped in a spectacular fashion. No one deserves violence, though. But I think we're also allowed to laugh at Mary when she's acting like a crank-crazed maniac.
Moving on to lighter topics! Mary claimed to be having a hot, steamy affair with the artistic director of The Imp. At first, this seemed outlandish. But he had been the one to hire her. And he repeatedly refused to replace her when she consistently failed to learned her lines, ran around naked, and contributed little more than mukbangs to the comedy (again, I personally found it funny when she did that, but I was in the minority).
Some skullduggery was definitely afoot. Was it "sexy time," as Mary enthusiastically claimed? Who knows. Chuckie might have been paying the dude to give Mary a hobby. But not long after Mary started boasting about boning the artistic director, he suddenly began calling her out on her unprofessional behavior. They "broke up," but Mary managed to avoid getting kicked out of the improv troupe, bragging that she could sue the director for sexual harassment if he fired her.
And then... there was the pièce de résistance of Mary's misadventures in mating. She met a biker dude at Filthy McNasty's. This guys was disgusting. Most of her previous dudes had been questionable, weird, or possibly imaginary. But we all saw this one. He was as fat as a Hutt, he smelled like a grease trap, motor oil, B.O., and a very specific type of cheese... The few teeth that he had were black and green, his fingernails were yellowed and a few of them oozed pus. Finally, the volume and crackly, bubbly properties of his frequent farts indicated to George Gay that he, "definitely had a virgin booty." Mary's lard-ass loverboy called himself "Hogg," which was probably a reference to the two-wheeled vehicle that he was very obviously too large to actually ride. Or it might have just been an obvious nickname for a filthy fat fuck.
But Hogg, like Tech Guy a few loverboys ago, had a wife. And she made frequent appearances at Filthy's as well. Hogg's wife was shockingly... kind of pretty. A little rough around the edges. Didn't smell the greatest. But she stood in stark contrast to her repugnant hubby, even with her fried hair, her sloppily inked tats, and her imprecisely applied eye makeup. Her teeth were free of obvious rot. She had a beautiful figure. And she had a carefree attitude that was probably attractive to a number of people. She'd fart right along with Hogg, she didn't shave her legs, and the profane compound nouns she came up with always cracked me up (lard-tard, smegma-booger, felch-belcher).
And Mary was once again claiming to be in a throuple with The Hoggs. But this time, there was hard evidence. They'd get busy in some corner of the establishment, and even got booted from the dive bar a few times for lewd behavior, offensive odors, and illegal drug use. On one particular night, Mrs. Hogg lit one of her hubby's gargantuan ass-rippers while Mary was doing her thing, completely shrouded by his big belly. The blue flame ignited some spilt booze on the dingy floor, and a small fire erupted. The staff were able to stomp it out, but the nasty throuple was unceremoniously banished.
Alas, management allowed Mary to re-enter the bar because she apparently had some sort of sway with one of the bartenders. Instead of meeting her...uh... "partners" for some more boom-boom, Mary decided to come back inside and gush about Hogg's majestic rooster to all of us. She smelled like D cheese, ammonia, and burnt farts as she plopped down at our table, already screeching about how much bigger her "new boo" was, compared to that vile turd of an artistic director.
George Gay: Fuck me, Mary!!! You reek. Go wash the uncircumcised methhead off your hands and then you can sit with us.
Mary started to protest. Lucy cut her off. "Your whole body is probably a veritable Petri dish from fooling around with those nasty-ass people." She handed Mary some Purell. "Was the junkie junk off, keep the bottle, and don't you fucking touch me when you come back!"
Mary's bottom lip began to quiver and she looked pleadingly at me. "Just wash up," I told her. "You're too pretty to go around smelling like that.”
Off she went to the dingy bathroom. Maybe I wasn't harsh enough, but flattery got results in this instance. And when she returned, she had managed to dilute the stench enough so that we could stand to sit at the same table with her.
Mary took a deep breath in preparation to gush about something that would have undoubtedly been disgusting, but George cut her off this time. "Mare. How do you even BANG someone with a belly like that?"
Mary (speaking a bit more quickly than usual): Oh, it just takes some creative positioning. We get him to lie down. If Mrs. Hogg is taking in the rod, I hold his bowl of jelly up with both arms and stick my cooter in his face. He eats it like his mommy made it! And when it's my turn to get blasted, the missus uses a bunch of yoga straps to hold it up. I have to take it from behind because my own little tiny bit of va-jiggle-jaggle bumps up against his bowl of jelly if why try to smash like vanilla people. It's so much fun, though!!! And then he props his bowl of jelly up on the coffee table and plays with himself while he watches his honey strap on a dil...
George: I so regret asking.
Mary: They're sooo fun to fool around with! I think they might be my forever partners! (Her hands were too shaky to slide down her body in unbridled ecstasy, so she clasped them together and hid them underneath her itty bitty little gunt.)
Lucy: So when are you gonna dump Chuck?
Mary: Well... Hogg and the missus don't have much scratch. And what they do have, they spend on smokeables. When I meet a real sugar daddy, I'll get rid of Chuckle. He pretended to be a baller before we got married. But he's just middle management and he's content to stay there. Pffffftt. No ambition.
Mary launched into another long, unnecessarily graphic gushing about her garbage partners and their nasty-ass boom-boom. So I decided this would be a good time to clear my conscience about dating Whisky. Mary hadn't so much as mentioned him in months. She was inexplicably smitten with The Hoggs. And her ultimate dream man was obviously some filthy rich dude (perhaps a literally filthy dude who was also rich), which took Whisky out of the running. I still think it would have been amusing if Mary had tried to date Mori...
I waited for her adult film star gasp to wind down before I finally interjected, "Wow. Sounds like you've got a fantastic sex life right now!"
Mary: I do! You need to get over that born-again weirdo and find a real man so that you and I can have good girl talk!
Me: Well... I'm not banging anybody, but I am dating somebody. Sort of. It's not really that big of a deal. I'm not even sure that I'm completely into him. But he's been super sweet to me...
Lucy put her arm around me, almost as if she knew I was about to need protection.
Mary: TELL ME!
I hesitated. "Well... It's Whiskers."
In an instant, George jumped up and grabbed Mary by the shoulders, lest she lunge at me.
But Mary got very quiet. Silent tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She gasped and buried her face in her hands, now emitting one seemingly endless, impossibly high-pitched whine.
George loosened his grip and began to pat her on the back. Lucy's grip tightened on me and she whispered, "Here we go. Overreaction sequence has commenced."
Mary lifted her red, tear-stained face and glared at me. "HOW COULD YOU???"
Me: Mary, I swear. I thought you hated his guts. I haven't heard you talk about him in ages. When he asked, I thought it would be good for me to give him a chance since he's always been really sweet to me.
Mary: But what about the way he treated ME??? He was such an asshole!
Lucy: Was he? Mary, you stalked the guy. If he was rude, it was only because you weren't taking NO for an answer.
Mary: He never told me he wanted to end things. He just kept ghosting me. But whenever I showed up at his house and jumped on him, we always wound up smashing. Eventually.
I didn't have the gumption at that point in my life to suggest to Mary that it's wrong on every imaginable level to coerce someone into intimate activity, regardless of gender. And even knowing what Whiskers would eventually become, he didn't deserve THAT. I should have called her out. Instead I tried to steer the conversation back to her current bedroom bliss and try to get her to resume thinking the disgusting thoughts that delighted her so much.
Me: Who cares what he's doing now?! Aren't you insanely happy with your fun new lovers???
Mary: NO! THEY STINK! HE'S FAT. I want my sexy Whisky-Boo Whiskers back!!! Give him back, Valley! Puh-leeee-eeee-eeeee-eeeease.
Me: I don't "have" him. I'm just seeing him. If he hurt you this much, why don't you try to sit down and have a real conversation with him? It might be good for both of you to clear the air.
Mary: He blocked me on everythi-iiiiiii-iiiii-iiiiiing. Waaaaaaaaaah!
Me: Well, I guess that's your answer. You probably overwhelmed him. He seems like a bit of a softy. Personally, I need a softy right now. But I think you need a manly man.
Mary rose. She gave me an icy stare. And then she cooed in an unnervingly sweet tone. "I love you, Valley-Boo. I know you didn't mean to break my heart."
Me: Thank you, Mary. Really, I wouldn't have even considered his initial invitation if you hadn't been calling him "Satan," and telling us all that you hated him, and dating all these new guys. I didn't do it to spite you, I swear. It just happened.
Mary (still creepily, icily sweet): Yes. We're so alike, you and I. It's perfectly understandable that the same guy would go for both of us. But you owe me. You owe me big.
Me: I'm gonna disagree with that. If you think I slighted you, just tell me to fuck off. If you really do understand that these things happen, then you'll accept that there was no malice on anyone's part.
Mary: Mmmm-hmmmm. We'll see about that.
She jiggled her Jupiters, tossed her hair, and stalked out of the dive bar...

AND THEN SHE BANGED DENNIS.

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Chapter 15: For What You’ve Tamed
“We’ve come a long way, Vikri. Let’s finish your story,” Rayner said as he sat down in the same chair, crossing his legs in the same way.; small consistencies that made the task of talking about my past seem a little more routine. “I understand you lost someone important to you that day.”
I shifted slightly where I sat. “Yeah,” I answered coarsely. I grabbed at the poncho hanging over my shoulders. I remembered what it felt like in my dreams. Radiant warmth always seemed to emanate from it. Not necessarily the poncho itself, but Tenga’s memory. I realized that as long as I had those, then he was still here in a way. I’d much rather have him here than his memory though.
Rayner nodded. “I know what that’s like,” he said in a near whisper.
I shook my head. “It’s not just that I lost him. I…I failed,” I rasped. “I could’ve saved him. Maybe if I’d gone back I could’ve gotten the equipment before the fire did. I was too afraid.”
Rayner nodded slowly. “And now you feel responsible.”
I remained silent as I clutched my tail on the couch beside me. Rayner already knew the answer. He pursed his lips. “Yeah…I know exactly how that feels.”
I looked up at him. For the first time, his eyes weren’t on me, but on the adjacent wall as he seemed to ponder something. “You think about all the things you could have done differently. Things that are so obvious in hindsight,” he sighed and adjusted his glasses. “If only it were that clear in the moment.” He looked up at me, clasping his hands together. “So walk me through what happened.”
I could still vividly remember the moment Tenga got shot. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. So quickly in fact, that it even took Tenga a moment to realize there was a hole in his torso. Minutes of continuous tension shattered with a hail of gunfire lasting less than a second. The echoes continued to howl through the mountains long after the bodies met the snow. My friend was fatally wounded, the snow around him dyed bright red with his blood. And I had to leave him.
The entire time I was in the belly of the federation destroyer with danger lurking around every corner, all I wanted to do was to get this done as quickly as possible and get back to him. I was enraged that they’d done this to him and to billions just like him.
“Tenga was all I thought about the entire time,” I croaked. “And I…I was willing to kill everyone onboard to get back to him, even if there was no way I ever could. I… did things I could never have imagined myself doing even just days ago. I tore a chunk out of my leg just to be able to get to the Krakotl pinning me down with a crowbar.” I inhaled deeply, staring down at my reflection in the water, recalling my bloodshot eyes in the reflection of the ship's monitor. The grimly colorful bloodstains in my fur from several different species.
Rayner nodded. “It was a desperate situation. Many don’t see themselves doing things like that until they’re put in a situation where it's necessary. A situation where it's do or die. No one can fault you for that, especially not with all that depended on you.”
“I guess I just…It’s just worrying knowing that there’s a part of me capable of that.”
The doctor tapped his pen on his notepad as he seemed to think for a moment. “Do you worry that you may have violent outbursts?”
I scoffed. “Well, the events of a few days ago provided good grounds for worry.”
Rayner nodded. “Aggression is common for PTSD victims. It can be difficult to manage intense emotions when your mind is already dealing with so much.
I shook my head. “That’s not the person I want to be.”
Rayner nodded. “I know Vikri. That’s why it's so crucial for you to talk about this stuff. The less all of this weighs on you, the better you’ll be able to control those emotions when they arise.”
He finished writing on his notepad before taking off his glasses and leaning forward slightly. “So what happened to Tenga?”
The question made my heart sink. My mind went quiet. The second hand of time sounded like the footsteps of a giant marching toward…something. My body seemed to go cold and numb. “He died…” I croaked, staring down at the table. That was the first time I’d admitted that to myself verbally in such a direct way. “And I tried so hard,” I choked, tears now streaming down my face. “I did everything in my power to save him. I even put Querek’s life in danger.”
I felt the heat. I could feel cold water dripping from my paws as the burning ship melted the frost accumulating in my fur. I remembered the terrifying hopelessness that gripped me as I gripped Querek and pushed him into the snow. He tried to sacrifice himself for Tenga. What if I had let him? Would it have even worked? Could Tenga accept that?
I recalled the story to Rayner, battling to keep my composure. “I…I watched him die,” I choked. “And I was furious. Reese had to pull me off of him. I wanted to do…something, anything, but…he told them not to bring him back. I think he…” I winced at the thought of him considering this. “I think he’d rather have died sacrificing himself over…going rabid.”
Silence perforated the room for what felt like several long minutes. Rayner sat with his legs crossed, his hand propped up against his mouth. He seemed to become lost in thought for a moment before speaking. “I know how that guilt feels,” he admitted quietly.
I looked at him, somewhat surprised. “You do?”
Rayner nodded, rubbing his hands together. “My son,” he said plainly, taking a long pause before he continued. “He and Jesse were very close as kids. Practically brothers.” He tapped on his clipboard with his pen. “I was…not so available in those days. I was a very different man than I am now. I was still in school. I was always busy, always stressed. I hadn't even considered becoming a therapist. I was deadset on becoming a neurosurgeon.” He scoffed at himself, his head gently shaking back and forth as his gaze grew distant. His delivery lacked that matter-of-fact candor I was so used to by now. He was much quieter; less animated. His eye contact was sporadic and he never stopped fidgeting with his pen. Everything about him seemed suddenly mired in an emotion that was difficult to read. That was when I saw everything we'd done over the past few days for what it really was. Rayner wasn't invincible. He never claimed to be. He was hurt; I could hear it in his voice. He wasn't a person reaching down into the mud and yanking me out by the nape of the neck. He was man covered in mud himself. He wasn't an untouchable hero. Merely a guide.
He continued as that realization struck me. “I loved him as much as a father could. But I was so busy that…well I wasn't there as much as I'd like to have been. That put a big strain on our relationship.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses a few times before he continued. “One night we got into an argument. He’d just gotten his license. He had an old beat-up car I'd bought him for his birthday,” he chuffed. “A teen’s first car is always…eccentric. Thought it was a great deal at the time.” He sighed and nodded slightly before continuing. “He left the house enraged, speeding down the road. After a few miles, he lost control, swerved off the road, and hit a tree head-on. The airbag never deployed. The car crumpled like a soda can.”
I stared at him, speechless as he concluded in a near-whisper. “He was declared dead at the scene.”
The room felt hollow for a few long seconds. I searched for a reply but couldn't fathom the right words to say. Fortunately, Rayner didn't stay silent for long. “Like you, I blamed myself for a long…long time.” He sighed. “And it nearly destroyed me.”
I stared at the floor, fidgeting with my tail. “How did you…overcome that?”
“Well it didn't happen overnight,” he replied, flashing a brief smile. “It takes time but, at some point, you have to carry on living. You have to continue loving.” His eyes creased slightly as he looked down at his own hands. “You have to keep loving,” he repeated in a low whisper.
Loud silence claimed the room again as his words sank in. He was right. It was either accept what happened or live like this forever. Looking at it that pragmatically, the choice seemed easy. Emotions are never so logical though. It wasn’t as if he relieved himself of that burden either, it was obvious he still carried it. It just…didn’t weigh as much now. Not because it got lighter, but because he got stronger. I eased into speaking again. “I…I'm sorry. About your son.”
Rayner nodded. “I'm sorry about your friend.”
We both stewed in silence for a minute before Rayner spoke up. “We’ll send you home today.”
“You…really think I’m ready?”
Rayner nodded slowly. “I think so. The medication seems to be working, you haven’t had any breakdowns since you’ve been here. You’ve gotten much better at discussing these things. I think you’re equipped to face this now.”
“...I’m afraid,” I croaked.
“Of what?” Rayner asked, leaning forward
“Of…seeing Lucky again. I'm doubting whether I even should. I was never prepared to be her master. I’m just a danger to her.”
“Vikri,” Rayner exhaled and leaned forward. “You made a mistake. We all do. But you have a responsibility to her. You should at least see her and face that mistake, or you’ll never have closure. What you decide after that is your choice, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”
“I hope so,” I sighed.
Rayner clicked his pen and set his notepad aside. “We’ve made you some medication to take home, same stuff you've been taking. The plan is to keep lowering the dosage until you’re sleeping without it. We’ve made you some sheets with all the daily doses on them and when to take each one. It’s enough to last you two weeks, then once they’re out, you’ll come back here for another session, then if you need it, we’ll get you more and keep weaning you off them.”
He leaned forward, emphasizing his next words. “And I cannot recommend enough that you go to Jesse’s support group in between our meetings. Those will help you tremendously, I’m sure of it.”
I nodded. “I have his number. I’ll…I’ll give it a shot.”
“You won't regret it,” Rayner assured me. “Jesse was in the same chair as you not too long ago for similar reasons. He has knowledge from first-hand experience. I can vouch for him, he’s a great guy.” He inhaled. “Well, is there anything else Vikri? We won’t be seeing each other again for a while, so if there’s anything else, now’s the time to talk about it.”
I thought for a second. We’d covered almost everything. I’d never discussed those days in so much detail. It felt like being submerged in icy water. It was miserable at first, but over time it became easier, even comfortable. I’d relived so much pain over the last three days, but here at the end of the whole story, It felt less like a nightmare, and more like reality. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally replied.
“Then I’ll clear you to go home. Andrea is here, she’ll give you a ride, I’m sure. Here.” He reached over and handed me a small business card. “That has all my contact information on it. I’m usually here in my office until late at night, so feel free to call if you need anything. If the sedative gives you any issues at all, any side effects, make sure to call and let me know. We followed the recipe to a tee, but it’s wise to be cautious.”
A familiar silence flooded the room as Rayner and I seemed to, for the first time, have nothing left to say. Finally, the doctor spoke. “See you in two weeks, Vikri.”
///////////////////////////////
Golden strands of light danced between the digits of my paw as I moved it in front of the brilliant summer sun. An intense beacon of warmth floating in a sky as blue as Earth’s oceans. The rumble of Andy’s car occupied the air as we cruised down the highway. Vivri was sound asleep in the backseat. The gentle white noise and vibration seemed to knock her out cold. I watched the sunrays dance as I waved my paw in front of me, before turning it around. Several spots on my paw still had obvious scars. I even still had burn scars from the electrical systems aboard the crumbling Cardinal.
I curled my paw closed into a fist and rested my head against it, watching the lush, green mountains pass by in the distance. After three days I was set loose into the world once again, hopefully better armed than I was before. Even after all the weight I doffed from my shoulders in Rayner’s office, a crushing mass still rested on my chest. Lucky.
The weight only became heavier as the car slowed, and rounded a corner into the parking lot of a large animal hospital. Andy gently brought the car to a stop in a parking space in front of the entrance. Occasionally people would walk in and out with their pets, many of which were dogs on leashes.
Vivri stirred awake after we stopped. “Oh…We’re here,” she muttered nervously. “There’s…a lot more animals here than I was expecting.”
Andy chuckled. “It’s an animal hospital girl, there’s gonna be all kinds of critters here.”
I turned around to face her. “You don’t have to go in there. You and Andy can wait here.”
Andy scoffed. “You might wanna tell Rayner they screwed up those meds, ‘cause you’re delusional if you think I’m letting you go in there by yourself.”
“Well I don’t want her to be alone out here,” I argued.
“I’ll go in, just…stay close, please?” Vivri interjected.
I looked back at her, ears tilted. She was dead serious. I sighed and shook my head. “This is gonna be a disaster,” I groaned.
Andy opened her door. “I’ll wait with her in the lobby, you go talk to the vets. It’ll be fine.”
I looked back at Vivri one last time as Andy stepped out. “Alright, just stay away from the cats.” I opened my door and began stepping out into the summer air.
“C-cats?”
“Small felines. They're demons with mind control,” I replied just before closing the door.
Vivri scrambled out of the car and followed right on my heels. “Well don’t just leave me!” she squeaked.
I laughed. “I’m kidding. Well, mostly.”
Walking into the building, I realized that Lucky had been in a very similar place as me over the past three days. The lobby felt eerily similar to the one at the medical center. Everything went silent as Vivri and I walked in. Immediately I could feel dozens of eyes on us. Vivri hid close behind me as Andy gestured for me to follow her to the desk.
I doubted any of the humans there meant any harm, but dozens of binocular eyes snapping onto her in an instant had Vivri more unsettled than she already was. It didn’t help that several dogs were either on leashes or in carriers in the lobby, which were no doubt just as curious. I grabbed Viv’s paw. “They don't see many Venlil,” I whispered. “Just ignore them.”
I approached the desk with Vivri still hiding behind me. “E-excuse me?” I stuttered. The woman at the desk looked up, clearly caught off guard by two venlil standing before her. “O-oh! Excuse me, you must be Lucky’s owner, right?”
“Yeah. Vikri.” I could feel Vivri shivering behind me.
“I’ll let Doctor Gavin know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I muttered before turning to Vivri. “Are you sure about this?” I whispered.
“Of course! It’s just for a few minutes, right?” Her body language gave an entirely different answer. She seemed like she might faint at any moment.
I looked up at Andy. “Keep her close, would you?”
Andy wrapped her arms over Viv’s shoulders. “Of course. I’ll keep little Vivi safe from all the big, bad puppy dogs and mean kitties,” she said in baby speak, twisting her side to side. She giggled. “We’ll be fine.” Her tone suddenly shifted as she locked eyes with me. “Will you?”
I stood there in silence for a moment. This entire time my heart felt unbearably heavy. Standing there, I felt nauseous. So much so that I made it a point to know exactly where the bathroom was when I walked in. The weight on my chest made breathing a laborious task. I heaved in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in there but…I have to do this. For both of us.”
Andy exhaled and nodded, seemingly just as nervous for me. Right on cue, the door at the back of the room opened with a heavy click. “Vikri?” a male voice called out. An older gentleman in burgundy scrubs surveyed the room. It didn’t take long for him to find me. He nodded toward me as he adjusted his glasses. “Right this way, please.”
“We’ll be right here,” Andy whispered, her hands still resting around Viv’s shoulders, who agreed with a tail flick.
I nodded and walked toward the man, leaving the cozy waiting room behind, and entering a long, sterile hallway. The doctor’s shoes clicked against the tile as he walked just in front of me. The weight bearing down on my chest only got heavier with each step. After a few agonizing seconds, the man finally spoke up as he stopped outside a door. “I’m Doctor Gavin,” he said breathily, extending a hand. “I performed Lucky’s surgery.”
I took his hand with my paw, which he could no doubt tell was trembling by this point. “Vikri,” I choked. “S-so…How is she?”
“She’s good,” Gavin answered in a higher pitch. “She’s recovering remarkably fast. Really lived up to her name.” He opened the door and stepped through into a kennel area as he continued. “The bullet hit one of her ribs and shattered. A couple of fragments pierced her lung, one of them was just inches from her heart. There’re still a few very small ones lodged in her tissue, but we’d be doing more harm than good by trying to remove them. They shouldn’t cause any issues and come out on their own after some time, but we’ll keep track of them with x-rays.”
As he spoke we passed by kennels, some empty, some with dogs that barked or jumped up on the cage as we passed. I scoured each one for Lucky, my dread building with each one we passed. Suddenly, the doctor stopped in front of me. He inhaled deeply. “I should mention…Given the…circumstances of how she got these injuries, me and some staff will stay with you just in case she becomes aggressive. That’s not to say that I think she will,” he added hastily, “she’s been great with everyone here but…you know, just to be safe.”
“I get it,” I breathed. It made sense. If Lucky attacked me, it would be far more deadly than it would be for a human. And I was confident even a human wouldn’t last long against a half-wolf her size. Fittingly, a group of four humans were gathered at the end of the hallway, catchers in hand.
Time seemed to slow as I approached the pen. The staff members all looked over at me with the same anxious expression. I felt like a prisoner walking toward my judgment, and that perhaps it was me that belonged behind these cages. I swallowed and took a long, slow breath as Gavin opened the gate. He walked in ahead of me. “Hey there big girl,” he said in a chipper tone. I heard the familiar thumping of Lucky’s tail against the floor. Gavin chuckled to himself as the remaining four staff calmly and quietly filed into the pen. Once they were all inside, the final human leaned around the corner, looked me in the eyes for a long second, and nodded once.
A new reality awaited around that corner. My sentence was about to be read. It felt so cripplingly helpless; wanting so desperately to finally be reunited with my best friend, yet trembling at the thought of rounding a corner to run face-first into the consequences of my actions. I steeled myself one last time. I nodded back at the catcher and took slow, deliberate steps toward him. I finally rounded the corner, and for the first time since the incident, I saw Lucky.
She lay on a large, fabric bed, with food and water bowls close by. Her right front leg was bound in a cast, tied up close to her body. A large patch of fur had been shaved away around her chest and halfway up her neck. She seemed thinner than I remembered. It reminded me of the scared, hungry pup I’d met so long ago.
Her eyes tracked onto mine instantly, and I felt an ache that defied all imagination. The same gaze that would send almost any other Venlil scrambling down the hallway instead gripped some inner part of me in a cold, numb stasis. I couldn’t move. Part of me wanted to run to her and spill out how sorry I was. Another wanted to curl up on the floor right there and sob, returning to that familiar numbness that seemed akin to the ancient enemy of life itself. The cold. That bitterness that pierced through fur, through flesh, through bones, and any ideal held by the naive child that sat next to Tenga’s corpse that day. It ran through until there was nothing left.
Then, I felt a warmth as if someone had draped a blanket over me. I gripped my poncho around my shoulders, grabbing it tightly. I made a quiet promise to myself there and then. Not a promise to my sister, or my parents, or Andrea. Me. I wouldn’t lie down in the cold. Never again. One more hill.
“Hey Lucky,” I said, my voice coarse and breaking every syllable.
The silence was abruptly broken as Lucky, though seemingly frail, shot to her feet. Everyone in the room shifted, prepared for the worst. I didn’t dare move, but I could feel my heart pounding in my legs, my body preparing to bolt. The staff watched her carefully, their grip slightly tightened around their polls. Lucky made no sounds, only stared at me, her nostrils flaring as she gathered my scent. Her right front leg was useless, immobilized against her body. She shifted her footing to steady herself. Then I saw something that replaced fear with tears. She was shaking like a leaf, never taking her eyes off me. She could care less about the others. She was scared. Of me.
I felt myself fall off a ledge in a sensation I’d become all too familiar with over the last few weeks. Tears streamed down my face, my breath hitching as I brought my paws up to my face. I fell to my knees, the presence of the staff had become irrelevant. “I’m…I’m sorry,” I exhaled between gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
So there it was. My new reality. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was what I expected. I didn’t know what I’d do then, and I didn’t know now. Could I go on without Lucky? She was the one fortress in the turbulent seas of my broken mind. She was the one I could always count on. The one that I knew would always be there, no matter what. Now I was convinced she was terrified of me.
I sat there a shattered mess for a long moment, tumbling off that cliff and reaching out for anything to catch myself, but found nothing but jagged stones. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Doctor Gavin attempting to comfort me, I assumed. Until I felt something touch my knee. I looked up, thrown out of the spiral abruptly. Lucky was now just in front of me, licking my leg. I froze, confused. She gently laid down, careful of her bandaged leg as she rested her head on my leg, looking up at me. That was the same leg she’d broken months ago. Finally, I got it. “I hurt you, and you still loved me.”
A wave of relief rushed through me and I looked down at her, eyes glossy with tears. I bent down and rested my head against hers. I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. For the first time in days, I felt whole again.
Lucky still loved me.
First Prev [Next]

Hello!
I hope we're all doing well!
We did relatively okay last time, with our secondary parlay landing clean! Everything else kinda fell apart, but I did a bit better than I feared i would have done.
Another rough fight night to predict here! Should be a fun event though.
Onwards to the predictions!
(c) - Champ
D/DWCS - Debut/Dana Whites' Contender Series
FLS - Fight Lose Streak
FWS - Fight Win Streak
NS - No Streak
(#x) - Rank in Division
x/3 - Confidence Levels
lets go!
Prelims
Women’s Strawweight
Emily Ducote (-275) (13-8-0, NS) v Vanessa Demopoulos (+220) (10-5-0, NS) - Oh look, a fight that’s probably going to go to the scorecards. Ducote is coming off a relatively strong win against Yoder, she was very capable of stuffing all of those takedown attempts coming her way and matching the tenacity of Yoder on the feet. Now, I am always a bit iffy when it comes to someone with a record like Ducotes’, but I do believe they (The UFC) didn’t quite build her up properly, giving her opponents like Godinez and Hill very early on in her UFC career. Ducote is a fairly well rounded fighter who does well on her feet, but most importantly, her grappling is relatively good, having been capable of defending the takedowns of Godinez, which isn’t a small feat since Godinez is well known for her wrestling capabilities. That ability to defend takedowns is massively important when dealing with someone like Demopoulos, whose main threat in most of her fights are her takedowns and grappling attacks. Ducote has fairly standard striking attacks for a well rounded MMA fighter, she is very quick on the feet and throws a lot of volume when she attacks, which could prove challenging to Demopoulos as she tries to enter range and initiate a takedown. Now, whilst Ducote has a lot of volume and speed to her strikes, she lacks in the “finishing” area, she doesn’t quite have the tenacity to finish her opponents, there’s no hurry. With that said though, she does have a bit of a familiar pattern of touching up her opponents until that right hand finds its mark, then she adds emphasis on that right-side punch. She has, however, one weird tendency to just stand there, staring, whilst in the pocket, with a rather square stance, and whilst that might help her with the offensive output, she is still standing there with minimal defences. That’s something that has contributed to her losses in the past and something that Demopoulos could possibly use as a way to find an entry for a takedown. Demopoulos is coming off a win against Murata, but it was a fairly unimpressive performance with Demopoulos getting taken down a lot, and although she looked fairly good on the feet with powerful single attacks, I don’t quite know how effective she is going to be against a volume-heavy fighter like Ducote. Demopoulos has a few tendencies as a fighter that are great, she is fairly active in the guard off her back, throwing up submissions very quickly, but the problem with that is nowadays if you can’t lock in a submission, then you are losing the fight, and I think if Demopoulos does pull guard, Ducote should have the ability to control her on the ground and avoid submissions. This is a very, very 50/50 fight in my opinion. Ducote has a slight advantage on the feet due to her speed and volume, but on the ground it’s looking like Demopoulos has the advantages there, as she does have great instinct on when to lock in a submission or shift the hips. The safest bet here is either o2.5 rounds or the fight going the distance, this isn’t a ML bet fight by any means in my opinion. As for my prediction, I am very split but i’m leaning towards Ducote to win this one, but it’s the slightest lean one can imagine.
Ducote via UD - (1/3)
Bantamweight
Alatengheili (+150) (16-9-2, NS) v Kleydson Rodrigues (-185) (8-3-0, NS) - This is a fascinating one. Alatengheili was scheduled to fight a month ago but it was cancelled due to an illness, so I fully expect him to fight again this week. The kinda good news about that is he doesn’t really need to have a big camp since he already had the conditioning and cardio from that other camp preparing for Victor Hugo. Alatengheili is a very aggressive and powerful fighter, everything he throws has so much speed and power behind it, and whilst there might not be a lot of volume behind those punches, he shouldn’t be underestimated on the feet because of his explosiveness. Alatengheili also uses that explosive power to wrestle, and he is fairly good on the ground, able to maintain a strong position at all times and just land heavy ground and pound. Alatengheili is powerful but he doesn’t display that power with reckless abandon, he tends to be a bit of a counter puncher, his hands are often low or loose, which lures his opponent in to strike, in which he then propels himself forward with a quick flurry of dangerous punches, then there’s a reset and he waits to lure his opponent in again. That’s his typical gameplan and it works a lot of the time, but I do think he might get exposed by one thing that Rodrigues could do, and that’s chop at the legs to remove or mitigate that explosiveness that Alatengheili relies on. Rodrigues on the other hand has not had as much experience nor octagon time that Alatengheili has had, but his style seems to be a bit of a challenge for Alatengheili, at least from what I can see. Rodrigues is very well rounded, he is very quick on the feet, but most of all, he doesn’t do anything too crazy to be lured into a potential counter-flurry by Alatengheili. Rodrigues loves to kick at range, he is so dynamic and can switch up the angles of the attacks so quickly that he could possibly just keep kicking Alatengheili until the fight is over, as long as he keeps a safe distance from a retaliatory attack. He is very quick at throwing out those kicks and I do think if he attacks the legs early enough he is going to be effective, as Gutierrez was when he fought Alatengheili. Alatengheili is going to have to mix it up in this fight to get ahead, he is going to have to rely heavily on his wrestling in order to get a win here, because we have seen that Rodrigues is mostly a kickboxestriker, and if Alatengheili can push a nasty pace and pressure (something he only does if he is successful with his counters or see’s his opponent is hurt), that completely removes Rodrigues’ ability to kick. However, the biggest danger with any sort of aggressive forward movement from Alatengheili is the ridiculous hand speed of Rodrigues, his boxing speed is ferocious and he doesn’t necessarily overthrow, everything is clean and tight, and given how open the defences are with Alatengheili, I do think a check left hook or an uppercut is going to be a highly effective tool that Rodrigues is going to utilise, especially if Alatengheili is going to look for takedowns. The focus and timing of Rodrigues is something that I really like also, he is so calm but intense in the cage, he sees a lot of his opponents attacks coming, and since Alatengheili’s actions are huge and relatively easy to read (as there is quite a wind up for it) Rodrigues should be able to avoid it or counter effectively. One major thing I want to point out here that makes me lean on Rodrigues even moreso is the striking inaccuracy of Alatengheili, he is a powerful fighter, i cannot state this enough, but it is thanks to that power and his willingness to throw down heavy punches that he often misses. I’m gonna list some stats, so bear with me… These are his striking accuracy stats from a handful of his recent fights, starting from the most recent to ones earlier in his career. Gutierrez with 28% Accuracy, Anheliger with 37%, Lopez with 30% and Kenney with 26%. This is why I emphasized before how important Alatengheili’s wrestling is going to be in this fight, because if you’re going to go up against a very tricky and accurate striker like Rodrigues, you cannot play that accuracy game and risk winging punches against him. With that said though, don’t count of Alatengheili here, his power and explosiveness are always going to be a problem and it should generally be a good idea to sprinkle a little bit of money on him, even moreso that he’s an underdog. My prediction for this fight is a long, drawn out Rodrigues win, but it’s a tough one because we haven’t quite seen that much greatness from Rodrigues.
Rodrigues via UD - (1/3)
Women’s Strawweight
Piera Rodriguez (-175) (9-1-0, NS) v Ariane Carnelossi (+145) (14-3-0, NS) - Normally, a lot of fights interest me, even the ones that don’t interest the vast majority of others… but this one? I have no feelings one way or the other about this one, it seems like a filler fight lol. Rodriguez is a relatively well rounded fighter coming off a tough loss against Gillian Robertson, and I mean, that kind of loss tends to come with the territory of wrestling a well known submission specialist, so I don’t exactly fault Rodriguez for losing in that way. There is very little doubt that Rodriguez is going to have a major advantage in the wrestling department, a lot of her fights involve her taking down her opponent, it's what she does exceptionally well and considering how dreadful Carnelossi’s takedown defence is, it is going to be Piera’s imperative to take down Carnelossi. The problem with Rodriguez is that she's a little bit one dimensional, she doesn’t do too well on the feet and Carnelossi does have very strong strikes, I mean, look at her, she’s absolutely a power puncher. Rodriguez is highly diverse with her striking, both in terms of range and variability of attack, she has excellent fundamentals with the boxing, landing combinations in the pocket and moving away, and one main thing she does extremely well is that jab, its a really long, lunging jab, and the reason why I point that out is because it somewhat masks the takedown, she uses that jab over and over, and because that motion to jab is almost similar to a level change, she doesn’t necessarily feint the jab to get to the level change/takedown position, but her opponents just think another jab is coming. This is going to be a great set up against Carnelossi, attack her with long, prodding jabs, and after a few of those, go for a level change, because its that long lunge that looks like a level change. To put it bluntly, anything to get a level change and a takedown will be highly effective against Carnelossi. Carnelossi is an interesting one to talk about because she had a fun start to her career with an extremely entertaining fight against Liang Na, but if you look closely, she is just a fun fighter, not a great one. Her punching power is probably her biggest asset, because everywhere else she absolutely is not worth talking about, and it’s that punching power that will be evident when she inevitably clips Rodriguez. Carnelossi is one dimensional, but boy is she scrappy and I don’t think Rodriguez can afford to get crazy with her on the feet, because Rodriguez will be hurt by something in the pocket, the smartest thing Rodriguez can ideally do is level change and absolutely remove the power from Carnelossi, and considering that Carnelossi’s power is generated from a very still-standing stance, it wouldn’t take much to take her off her feet. I got Rodriguez winning this one, it should hopefully be a fun fight.
Rodriguez via UD - (1/3)
Middleweight
Abus Magomedov (-250) (25-6-1, 2 FLS) v Warlley Alves (+205) (14-7-0, 3 FLS) - It kind of seems like they are setting Magomedov up for success here. Magomedov may have had a tough last two bouts, but considering the fact that he faced Strickland and Borralho, that’s ridiculous levels of competition for a newcomer. Magomedov had one major issue exposed when he fought Strickland and that was his cardio, everything else he looked absolutely incredible at, he has a lot of power in his hands, he’s long and dynamic with his attacks and he has great wrestling, but it was his cardio that made him fall apart. During his Borralho fight, despite losing that bout, those cardio issues didn’t seem as present, he has seemingly learnt to pace himself and he honestly looks to be a decent up and comer now that he’s facing slightly more adjusted competition instead of straight up killers. Magomedov has a massive, massive reach advantage over Alves, and that’s going to be prevalent when Magomedov lands those beautiful strikes at range. He does use his kicks alot, and alongside said kicks are a lot of knee feints, it's a bit odd to look at, it could just be him getting ready to check leg kicks or to feint a kick, but it's just one of those things that I can’t quite figure out. Anyway, Magomedov’s cardio is going to be in question again today, and whilst I did say that he seems to be mostly fine, or at least a bit better than when he fought Strickland, he still tends to overthrow a lot, there is no pitter patter of punches that you somewhat see, they’re all still big actions and those big actions cost him his cardio early on. The best way to kind of describe Magomedov, at least cardio wise, is a slightly more talented and skillful McKinney. My main concern is how exposed his face is to getting hit, all it would take is for Alves to rush in like a bull and throw some heavy overhand punches, make it very gritty in there and make Magomedov tired. That’s the only way I can kind of see Magomedov struggle a lot. Alves is an exceptionally quick starter, he is an absolute firecracker and if he can catch Magomedov early, that’s going to be absolutely massive given the size difference. Everything Alves throws comes with silly amounts of power, and he isn’t necessarily a headhunter, he chops at the legs and body occasionally, he’s quite diverse and I think those leg kicks are going to be problematic for Magomedov, considering Magomedov needs to push forward in order to get his combinations off. Alves is a tough, tough fighter, and whilst he is coming off a savage knockout by Aliskerov, I do think that Alves is still one dangerous fighter to take on, maybe not as technical as Borralho (to compare to Magomedov’s last opponent), but he is an absolute monster when it comes to aggression and that alone could exhaust Magomedov. However, the reach and movement of Magomedov is going to be a major challenge here. I am not completely counting out Alves here, I think he is being a bit underestimated here, but I just think Magomedov has a lot more tools in his arsenal that is going to be boosted by that reach advantage, and it does seem that Alves is fairly susceptible to down the pipe shots, something that Magomedov does well. Range and distance are going to be the main gameplan for Magomedov and his time I think. I got Magomedov winning this one, but i am not very confident in this one due to the volatility of Alves’ actions. He is a wild and fast starter so I expect that first round to be the most sketchiest.
Magomedov via KO R2 - (1/3)
Women’s Bantamweight
Tamires Vidal (+300) (7-2-0, NS) v Melissa Gatto (-410) (8-2-2, 2 FLS) - This is certainly an interesting one. Vidal is coming off a tough loss against Rendon, and it was a bit of a boring fight in all honesty, with Vidal being somewhat effective on the feet with big and powerful attacks, but ultimately succumbing to the wrestling of Rendon. I don’t see that much changing this time around since Gatto is a great wrestler and Vidal has clearly shown major defensive issues in the wrestling department, so to put it bluntly, it just seems like Vidal has a puncher's chance, and if she does land those punches, I do think the tides can change a little in her favour, but it would only take one takedown for Gatto to be in full control for the rest of that round. Outside of her loss to Rendon, Vidal looked fun against Pascual, then again, a lot of fighters of a reasonably low calibre can look good against Pascual, so I think that was one of those “set up for success” fights. Still, the aggression and threat of a knockdown/out from Vidal will be fairly prevalent during this fight. But that’s about it, shes a powerful striker and quite dynamic, but her takedown defence is going to be a problem. Gatto was scheduled to fight Dudakova a few weeks ago, however that fight fell off, which is probably good for Gatto coz she’s ready for a fight regardless, shes still somewhat fresh off camp and was going to probably employ the same strategy against Vidal that she would have against Dudakova, and that was to wrestle. Gatto’s wrestling has always been a bit of a highlight for her, she’s physically strong and is able to do well in advantageous positions, holding her opponents down and either landing ground and pound or just grinding them out, exhausting them for a large chunk of the round. Gatto is also very dangerous on the feet, she has deceptively quick and powerful punches which she uses to both damage her opponents but also as an opportunity to raise their guard so the level change is more easily accessible. No matter what way you cut this slice of cake, I think Gatto’s wrestling is going to be a major problem for Vidal, and Vidal’s only way to win this fight is to keep it standing and just brawl, make it look gritty in there and potentially freeze up Gatto’s ability to wrestle cleanly. I am leaning on Gatto to win this one, but that unpredictability of Vidal’s aggression is going to be a big factor here. No major bet advice here, it seems like there is a possibility of it going over 2.5 rounds, but that’s about it.
Gatto via UD - (1/3)
Light Heavyweight
Oumar Sy (D) (9-0-0, 9 FWS) v Tuco Tokkos (D) (10-3-0, 3 FWS) - ITS DOUBLE DEBUT TIME!!! These are getting rarer and rarer the more we see fighters from DWCS make their way to the UFC, so this is a fun little occasion. Sy is coming into this fight a little bit more prepared, at least physically and cardio wise, than his replacement opponent in Tokkos. Sy is coming off a string of beautiful fights on various promotions, but most importantly he’s been relatively tested on KSW, which is one of the better promotions to come out of the European world of MMA. Sy is a long and rangey fighter who has dangerous head kicks and dangerous wrestling skills that he uses really well, and whilst he has a massive reach advantage over his opponent, he doesn’t exactly strike in any traditional way, you don’t see him throw a lot of jabs, he mostly uses his reach to lock in takedowns (since it’s easier to lock in takedowns with longer arms), and the moment the fight goes to the ground, expect him to find a position to where he can reign down heavy ground and pound. I would love to see him strike a bit more, but most of his fights are him taking his opponents down and landing ground and pound, and if he does that against a replacement fighter in Tokkos, I expect him to dominate and completely shut down Tokkos since it would take preparation to get out of funky positions that Sy puts his opponents in, and I don’t know if Tokkos has that wrestling background to handle the larger and longer opponent in Sy properly on the ground. Tokkos seemingly came out of nowhere this last week, and that one thing that blasted me in the face was the record of his second most recent opponent, Brian Jackson. Dudes got a 1-7 record and Tokkos torched him (expectedly), that doesn’t bring a lot of confidence to me that a guy like Tokkos, coming from a relatively decent gym in Kill Cliff FC, takes on and fights someone like that. Tokkos is overall a decent fighter with some strong wins under his belt, but the main thing going against him here is preparation time, and whilst he does have a fair bit of experience under his belt, I just don’t think he’s ready for someone like Sy on short notice. Tokkos is a relatively well rounded fighter with great wrestling and decent striking, but i just think all of that is going to be possibly negated by the substantial reach advantage of Sy. This is a double debut though, and whilst I normally steer clear from calling someone new to the UFC a lock, I think the fact that Sy has had a full camp for… three fights (Bellato, Trocolli (both cancelled) and now Tokkos), I think he’s ready for this fight and ready for the UFC. He will be an optional lock, but still a 2/3 confidence pick, if that makes sense.
Sy via KO R1 (2/3)
Lightweight
Tom Nolan (-450) (6-1-0, NS) v Victor Martinez (+340) (13-5-0, NS) - Both fighters made their debut and lost in the same way, in the same round, so let’s call this a second attempt at a debut lol. Nolan made his debut against knockout artist Nikolas Motta, and honestly that is a dangerous fight for anyone to take, but it probably made sense to the matchmakers since both fighters are prolific knockout artists. Nolan does finish his opponents very quickly a lot of the time, and I do think he has a massive advantage on the feet against Martinez since Martinez isn’t exactly a big threat on the feet, and his inactivity over the past few years (or lack of solid activity at least) leaves some questions hanging in the air. Nolan has a reach and height advantage here, but the most prominent advantage will be with his reach where he can string together gorgeous straight combinations to decent effect, and that’s what he’s really known for, he’s got awesome boxing and he is very confident in his punching power. He is also relatively defensively sound for someone with his size because I have pointed out before that a lot of taller and longer fighters don’t shell up a lot or have a lot of defensive layers to their style, but Nolan is overall a fairly solid boxer both on the offence and defence, it’s just a shame he got fed to the wolf when he fought Motta. Nolan made the simple mistake when he fought Motta of being in the pocket without care, and i think those kinds of mistakes are easy enough to fix, and considering Martinez is not the same kind of threat on the feet compared to Motta, I do think that gives Nolan a bit more freedom to string together combinations and overall look great on the feet, as he was meant to be, since his whole career up until that loss to Motta has been him having gorgeous striking. Martinez is coming off a KO loss also, but it was by Jordan Leavitt, and that’s just a painful look on anyone's record to get knocked out by someone who is not known for his striking. Martinez is overall a good striker, he has very fast hands, but I have noticed one thing about him that I can see Nolan landing cleanly. Martinez has the tendency to leave his right hand far from a block position, its more of a parry position, in front of him instead of beside him, and he tends to lower that hand when taking a back step, and I cannot help but see the Southpaw striker in Nolan land that left hand to the chin of Martinez. Now, any sort of exchange between either fighter here is going to be a dangerous one for both parties, but that is where reach comes in, Nolan has a diverse boxing skillset and his long attacks allow him to carry power as much as anyone elses short hooks would. One major thing Martinez is going to have to be careful of is a knee up the middle by Nolan as Nolan’s height is going to allow that knee to come up to target without a major loss to momentum, and I mean, if Martinez got dropped by Rosales on DWCS, then by Leavitt, I just don’t know if he has the chin to withstand the battering that comes from Nolan. I got Nolan winning this one, but this is going to be a fantastic fight which isn’t likely to go the distance.
Nolan via KO R1 - (2/3)
Main Card
Women’s Strawweight
Angela Hill (#12) (-160) (16-13-0, NS) v Luana Pinheiro (#13) (+130) (11-2-0, NS) - This is a great fight. Hill is coming off a very strong win over Denise Gomes, and it was honestly such a brilliant performance by someone who a lot of people tend to ignore. Hill is an incredibly diverse fighter, she is tenacious on the feet, highly capable of stringing together strong combinations from all ranges, and as she closes the distance, she’s good at tying up her opponent in a clinch and landing awesome knees and elbows. This is all Hill and her cumulative experience in the Octagon against a wide range of different fighters and styles, and it’s clear to me that her preparation for a lot of her fights involve solid planning and back up plans, because whilst her record reflects a rough run through her career, her level of competition is insane. Hill isn’t a finisher though, but she is someone who can keep a ridiculous pace for three rounds, so I do think that she has the capabilities to overwhelm Pinheiro on the feet, especially since we just saw Ribas do the same thing a little over 5 months ago. Hill will have a striking advantage in this fight, she throws a lot of volume at high speed towards her opponent and they do land effectively, and with a slight edge in reach I do see her having a bit more success on the feet here especially since Pinheiro does not have a lot of head movement or striking defence. Pinheiro is a danger to Hill in the grappling department though, especially in those transitions from standing to ground, she utilises hip throws relatively well and could make this fight ugly on the ground, but I don’t think there is a major submission threat here, I think her style is predominantly control and ground and pound, both things that Hill has experience in dealing with, although she still will lose the round if Pinheiro executes her gameplan well. Pinheiro has power in her hands, she could potentially make Hill a little bit frozen and hesitant on the feet once Pinheiro lands that overhand right that Pinheiro loves to throw early, but she doesn’t throw it often enough to lead to a significant finish, she’s a very low volume, high impact striker and that could play in the favour of Hill if Hill’s volume walks Pinheiro back into the cage. Pinheiro could make this fight dangerous for Hill on the ground, but we have seen a few times now that Hill is very good at the basics of takedown defence, underhooks, whizzers (if i spelt that correctly) and quickly getting back to a standing position, she is not complacent on the ground or in that transition to the ground, and I think any sort of failed takedown attempt from Pinheiro is going to fuel Hill a lot more, since Pinheiro only has a few kinds of takedowns. This is a hard on to pick in all seriousness, I might get the prediction wrong, but I have a strong feeling that we are going to see this fight go over 2.5 rounds, or even hit the scorecards. As for the prediction, looking at this fight, I am kind of leaning on Hill here, because Pinheiro’s wins aren’t as significant as Hill’s wins, and i do think Pinheiro fades a little bit as the fight goes on.
Hill via UD - (1/3)
Bantamweight
Adrian Yanez (-350) (16-5-0, 2 FLS) v Vinicius Salvador (+275) (14-6-0, 2 FLS) - I love this fight. Yanez is coming off two painful back to back KO losses, whenever a young fighter comes into the UFC, tears through the division, then hits a losing skid, it’s always a concern to any fan or pundit. However, I do think that leg kick KO is anomalous to the UFC, it rarely happens and I don’t think Salvador is much of a leg kicker anyway so the threat isn’t there. However, I do want to add that the psychological factor of maybe getting leg kicked to oblivion is going to weigh heavy on Yanez’ mind, and I do wonder if Yanez has drilled checking leg kicks before. Now, Yanez is still a dangerous opponent for anyone to take, he still has incredibly technical MMA boxing, and that’s going to be on full display this weekend. Yanez is so fluid and yet tricky on the feet, he’s very good at gauging range and firing away from different angles, as well as timing his shots off his opponents striking attempts, everything involving striking exchanges will most likely be in the favour of Yanez, he thrives in that space and I do believe his experience and his wins prior to those two devastating losses are going to shine this weekend. My only concern about Yanez is his ability to not get carried away and show his chin too much, because whilst Salvador is yet to get a win in the UFC, he still has had some mild striking success against fighters like Altamirano and Vergara, and it wouldn’t take a lot for Salvador to find the chin of Yanez. Salvador is a very funky and unorthodox fighter, and whilst that always brings positive attention to him, I also think that has been a product of failure for him also since the more cleaner fighters outbox him, are generally a lot faster and just find their mark a bit quicker, if that makes sense? I mean, Salvador’s stance is fairly loose, his chin is in the air and his shell is rather loose, and that’s not good news, especially if he’s facing a vicious fighter like Yanez. Salvador thrives in chaotic fights though, he is awesome and making it dangerous and risky for his opponents to fight in the pocket, but his style emanates a lack of self preservation. He is a kill or be killed kind of fighter in my opinion, and I firmly believe that when he got dropped numerous times in that first round against Victor Altamirano, it only showed us, and any future opponent (via tape watch in prep) that he is very hittable, his head is right there and the only reason it wasn’t there for Vergara was due to the significant difference in height and reach. Salvador moving up to 135 could make him a lot more interesting in terms of being able to explode more often and having more power behind his punches, but I also think it means he is dealing with more harder hitting fighters, and with the accuracy and boxing skill set of Yanez, I just think Salvador is going to get outdone here. I got Yanez winning this one, but I am interested to see if Salvador has what it takes to win and upset a lot of parlays out there.
Yanez via KO R2 - (1/3)
Welterweight
Ramiz Brahimaj (+170) (10-4-0, NS) v Themba Gorimbo (-205) (12-4-0, 2 FWS) - Brahimaj is coming back after two tough years away, and the reason why it’s tough is because he has been dealing with a spinal injury, and boy do i empathise with that. Now, his injury is mostly C-Spine and shoulder area nerve damage, this is terrible for a fighter because it effectively eliminates your ability to comfortably strike, sprawl, wrestle, underhook/overhook stuff, everything that you see in a fighter typically comes from shoulder rotation and all that stuff, so for Brahimaj to be out for two years, dealing with all of that, does not give me a lot of confidence in him being 100% coming into this fight against Gorimbo. Brahimaj is a dangerous grappler who thrives on the ground, he is honestly only dangerous on the ground, but the problem is that Gorimbo is very good on the ground himself, at least good enough to know what is being set up, and it’s on the ground where Brahimaj has his only chance to win. Unfortunately for Brahimaj, it’s going to take some work to get the fight to the ground and Gorimbo is more than willing to keep the fight standing, so honestly, I just don’t think Brahimaj is going to be as well rounded or as effective as he needs to be in order to get a win here. Gorimbo is riding some momentum coming into this fight, as he is coming off a lightning quick KO over Pete Rodriguez, and I mean, Rodriguez sucks, he’s one of the worst fighters in the UFC and that KO means nothing in the grand scheme of things, it’s just an additional win on a record with barely any weight to it. Gorimbo is going to be a lot more confident in his boxing though since that win, that feeling of getting knockouts is an addictive one and I think he’s going to be using his incredible reach advantage to look to get another KO this weekend over the possibly rusty Brahimaj. Gorimbo is a very well rounded fighter who honestly has a lot of potential to be a star, he has excellent boxing, and honestly very good wrestling and grappling, and I do think if the fight does go to the ground, Gorimbo has the fight IQ to notice set ups coming, neutralize them and remain on top in control, landing ground and pound or just advancing to his own submission positions. The most likely scenario though is Gorimbo keeps this fight standing and overwhelms Brahimaj on the feet, because he probably wants to chase another KO since that feeling is notoriously addictive. I got Gorimbo winning this one, I can’t wait to see how far this man goes in his career.
Gorimbo via KO R1 - (2/3)
Co-Main Event
Welterweight
Khaos Williams (-125) (14-3-0, NS) v Carlston Harris (+105) (19-5-0, 2 FWS) - This feels like a classic Striker versus Grappler fight. Williams is a strong, powerful striker who is such a threat on the feet, especially early on when he wants to push a nasty pace and land those devastating punches. He is known for being a bully, crashing forward with crazy power and aggression. There is no clean technique coming from Williams, it is mostly wild, wild punches and he is confident in his ability to knock out his opponent, that’s what makes him a dangerous threat to his opponents, that confidence. The right hand is Williams best weapon, his right overhand or hook is going to be the one that knocks out Harris if it lands, but that’s all he is, a powerful right side puncher, and if Harris times a takedown well, all of that threat is gone. On the flip side, Harris is primarily a grappler with a solid grappling base, and whilst he has faced his fair share of dangerous strikers, I believe Williams’ power is something different. Now, Harris has the potential to take this fight to the ground, I know that according to UFC stats that Harris has an 80% takedown defence, but there has not been enough wrestling in his fights, by his opponents, to fully prove that his takedown defence is that great, it’s only been used sparingly against him since most of his fights are absolute wild exchanges and beautiful displays of violence on the feet. Williams' propensity to head hunt could lead to an opening for a level change by Harris, but it’s a risky thing to do because any punch that lands on Harris is going to hurt him, and considering the age factor here, its possible his chin isn’t going to hold up well against the power of Williams. Now, Harris was getting ragdolls and outwrestled by Wells when they fought, and whilst that isn’t a great look for Harris, I don’t think Williams has the wrestling capabilities that Wells has, so I think the main submission threat from Harris in this fight is going to come from the clinch, so guillotines and front head choke variants are going to be on the menu for Harris this weekend, it’s just a matter of if he gets into that position or if he gets his head blasted over and over by powerful punches from Williams. This is a dangerous fight to bet on if you’re thinking of Moneyline betting, it can easily go either way since both excel in their respective styles, the safest and smartest bet here in my opinion is that this fight doesn’t hit the judges scorecards. As for my prediction, I don’t think i’ll be getting this right due to the volatile nature of this match up, but…
Harris via Sub R2 - (1/3)
Main Event
Featherweight
Edson Barboza (#14) (+125) (24-11-0, 2 FWS) v Lerone Murphy (-150) (13-0-1, 5 FWS FWS) - Man this is a funky main event. Barboza is a legend of the sport, but most importantly, and perhaps most relevant to this write up, he is an old dog who can still hang with the toughest. His last two wins have been against Yusuff and Quarantillo, two very difficult fighters to take on at 145 and it’s his win over Yusuff that I want to highlight… Yusuff exploded in the first round, looked for that finish and Barboza survived and thrived throughout the rest of the fight, it was a beautiful display of heart, toughness, and adaptability, because that was not the first firefight that Barboza has been in, and considering his current opponent, it sure as shit won’t be his last. Barboza is well known for his outstanding kicks, but he’s also just overall a ridiculously dangerous striker. An understated aspect of his whole game though is his wrestling and grappling, he might not be looking for a lot of takedowns when he fights, but he is well versed on the ground, having taken down Yusuff 3 of 4 times in the final round of a high pace main event is testament to his cardio and conditioning, despite the concern surrounding his age. Barboza is going to be a true test on the feet for Murphy, and I think it’s going to be the toughest fight of his career. Murphy is coming off a string of strong victories in the UFC, with his most recent one being against Culibao, and I gotta say, Murphy is one of those dangerous prospects that we all should keep an eye on. Murphy is a rapidly improving fighter who adds weapons to his arsenal every single time he comes out. He was originally a boxer with outstanding punching power and speed, he was ridiculously slick on the feet, but after each fight he adds more kicks, more movement and wrestling, he has slowly become a very well rounded fighter, and this makes his upcoming bout against a very tested veteran who is still here to stay in Barboza incredibly fascinating. There is a slight catch to all of those additional things added into his arsenal though, and that’s each time something has been added, the next opponent has something else to prepare for. I firmly believe that Murphy’s rise to this position and to this fight is not from his outstanding skill level, but from his incredible repertoire of techniques he has acquired and learnt over his UFC career. Unpredictability is king when it comes to new fighters, we have seen new fighters add things to their game that have completely changed and accelerated their growth, and that’s exactly what we have seen for Murphy. Murphy has a wide variety of strong strikes he uses effortlessly, from standard boxing combinations to a very snappy high kick, to strong grappling and control on the ground, he hasn’t mastered any of these things, but since they are added along each and every time he fights, his opponents are rarely prepared. This is not going to be the case for Barboza, Barboza is very, very well rounded and well versed in almost every aspect of MMA. Ill keep this short. I got Barboza winning this one, but I am still going to be a fan of Murphy, regardless of result.
Barboza via UD - (1/3)
Primary Parlay: Ducote/Demopoulos o2.5 or GTD + (optional Gatto/Vidal o2.5 or GTD) + Nolan/Martinez ITD + Hill/Pinheiro o2.5 or GTD + Barboza/Murphy R3 Starts
Locks of the week: Optional Sy + Nolan + Gorimbo
Alt Bets: Alves KO R1, Pinheiro Sub R2 or 3, Williams KO R1, Murphy KO R1 2 or 3 (combo rounds)
And that's it!!!!
Prediction accuracy as of 2024: 64.6%
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Reddit: u/smooth-option-4375 Discord Name: Swag Name and House: Waymar Corbray of House Corbray Age: 24 Cultural Group: Andal Appearance:
A tall man, lean yet muscular after the fashion of a professional athlete. He has the build of a knight who favors lithe dexterity over sheer strength.
When garbed for battle he is an intimidating figure, wearing a mail hauberk and chausses covered with a blackened steel cuirass, with a white surcoat emblazoned with the sigil of his house: a black raven in flight carrying a red heart. On his limbs, he wears steel vambraces, darkened black, enclosed around his forearms and simple should guards. On his feet, he dons hard leather boots with steel toes, that rise to meet steel leg greaves.
On his side swings a scabbard that holds his ancestral longsword, its pommel housing a dark red ruby in the shape of a heart. The guard as simple as it is ancient.
Though young he has a well-worn face, making him appear some years older than he ought to. Hardened from long hours in the sun and scarred from battle. He has piercing blue eyes, and cheeks rough with stubble.
When on the road, he will be found with a travel-stained cloak and hood, tied to his shoulders. Never far from his side is his massive, pitch black destrier Warlord, who stands at the considerable seventeen hands high at the shoulder.
Compared to most nobility he makes a pitiful sight, his armor is darkened, scratched, and dented. His clothing torn and mended a dozen times over. Dressed in hardy cloth and wool rather than more extravagant furs and silks. Despite his outward appearance however, he bears the heart full of valor and chivalry.
Trait: Strong Skills: Andal Knight (e), Swords, Water Dancer, Riding Talents: Etiquette, Heraldry & Tourney Lore, Outdoorsmanship Starting Titles: The Wayfarer, Hastiluder of Hearts Home Starting Location: [Starting Event]
BIOGRAPHY:
Ser Waymar Corbray was born into the noble house of Corbray in the year 1 AC to the Raven Knight, Lord Corwyn Corbray and Lady Ellyn Hightower. The pair spared no expense with any of their children despite the houses less than robust financial situation, thinking of it as the most sure of investments.
Lady Ellyn, a woman of refined taste and abnormal learning saw to it that Waymar (and the other children) were all well versed in etiquette and had a firm grasp of the intricacies of court life. In particular she bonded with Waymar, Corenna, and Tristan by sharing her love of literature, music, arts, and story telling. This had the dual purpose of sharing her loves but also ensuring the children grew up knowledgeable and well-rounded nobles.
On the other hand, Lord Corwyn focused on their martial educations. Where Colmar received the lions share, especially in terms of governance and lordship, Waymar was free to pursue and focus solely on knightly pursuits. Lord Corwyn himself, well known across the seven kingdoms as 'The Raven Knight' was both a superior commander and deadly swordsman, teaching the now famous Ser Rolland his art.
One of, if not the first momentous events that shaped Waymar's life was the birth of his younger brother Tristan. Tristan grew up with great difficulty, small, frail, and lacking the ability to speak many considered him ill-fated and treated him with contempt. Waymar however quickly developed a deeply engraved sense of guardianship over Tristan, and the two grew inseperable. Each day Tristan would attend his brothers studies, and each night Waymar would regale his brother with stories of epic heroes, fell deeds, and legendary champions.
The second was the Mooncrest Tourney, where Waymar entered in secret as a Mystery Knight: The Knight of the Wild Wood. During the tupinaire, Waymar encountered his elder brother and defeated him soundly. He went on to fight and overcome the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Malwyn Blackwood. Earning himself a knighthood when his identity was later revealed, for scoring seven strikes in seven seconds, with each strike having the force of three men'. This day was one of the best and worst days in the young Waymar's life: It was the day he was knighted by a living legend and it was the day a rift was formed that would never heal, between the two brothers.
The third was young Tristan's plan to study at Oldtown. In an attempt to separate the ever more violent Colmar and the young Waymar, Tristan convinced his parents to allow him to study at Oldtown and to take with him a small entourage for security. Amongst them was Waymar who, during there travel entered into the Strawberry Hall tourney.
His showing there was impressive if varied, fairing well in the melee, tupinaire, and archery contest, even going so far to claim first in the footrace. Unfortunately an administrative error meant that he was disqualified from the joust, his match timing being changed at short notice and the heralds unable to contact him in time to advise him of such.
This was however the start of his errantry. Taking near a year to return to Heart's Home where he stayed for only handful of weeks before departing again.
Now a man grown, Waymar travels Westeros following the tourney circuit, participating in as many as he can. The knight has earnt himself the moniker ‘The Wayfarer.’ A mocking title meant to demean him and his families fortune as he would walk rather than ride from place to place, lacking the funds to have a second horse and unwilling to tire his treasured destrier “Warlord.” Despite its original purpose, he bears the title with great pride.
Unbeknownst to lords and commonfolk alike, even those within the Halls of Heart’s Home, Waymar has been sending his earnings home to his younger brother who has been named Castellan of Heart’s Home, though for what purpose only the pair could know.
TIMELINE:
10 AC — Lord Corwyn and Lady Ellen marry. 3 BC — Colmar Corbray is born, eldest son of House Corbray and Heir to Hearts Home. 1 BC — Corenna Corbray is born, second eldest of House Corbray. 1 AC — Waymar Corbray is born, second eldest son of House Corbray. 6 AC — Lord Corwyn leads a band of knights against the Root Father & the Sons of the Tree. 7 AC — Trisan Corbray is born. 10 AC — Waymar attends the Maiden Bay tourney and begins his dream of becoming the Greatest Knight in the Realm. 14 AC — The Cavaliers visit Heart’s Home to secure recruits and sponsorship. 18 AC — Colmar Corbray marries XXXXX of House XXXXX at age 21. 19 AC — Mooncrest Tourney is held, Waymar enters as a mystery knight defeating his elder brother Colmar. 19 AC — For excellence with arms and unyielding valour Waymar is knighted by Ser Malwyn Blackwood, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 20 AC — Ser Waymar rides under Ser Godric Royce against the mountain clan raiders of the Burned Men clan, his first battlefield proper. 20 AC — Corenna Corbray marries Marq Grafton of Gulltown. 21 AC — Tristan leaves for Oldtown, intending to study at the Citadel and stay with their cousins. 21 AC — Waymar enters Strawberry Hall Tourney with mixed results, being suspiciously disqualified from the Lists. 22 AC — Janyce Swyft and Tristan Corbray become betrothed. 22 AC — The first piece of the Winged Knight armour is found, the quest for more pieces begin. 22-25 AC — Waymar travels Westeros largely by foot, earning himself the moniker Waymar the Wayfarer. 25 25 AC — Start Date

FAMILY TREE:

Auxiliary Character -------------------------
Name and House: Tristan Corbray
Age: 18
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance:
A young man with who looks as young as he is, Tristans black hair is unruly and quite long, resting on his neck and usually covering his ears. Despite his inability to speak, Tristan has a warm and genuine smile. His eyes are a deep thoughtful blue, with freckles adorning his nose and cheeks. His skin pale, indicative of the long hours he has spent inside studying. Despite being called timid he moves and dresses with a quiet confidence and grace that comes from self-awareness. For Tristan, his silence is not a barrier but instead a weapon. Tristan is not the most striking nor handsome man, but he bears a comfortable and approachable appearance that endears him well with others.
Trait: Erudite
Skill(s): Scrutinous, Scholar (e)
Talent(s): Mechanisms, Puzzles, Arts & Music, Cyvasse
Negative Trait(s): Mute
Starting Title(s): The Timid
Starting Location: Starting Event
BIOGRAPHY:
A ferociously keen mind, Tristan is a maester born, with an endless appetite for puzzles and mystery and an eerie ability to calculate. Despite being considered a fool for much of his early life, he has blown away his detractors with his prodigious intelligence. At the age of 15 he entered the Citadel to study, and in just three short years has earned himself no less than 8 links being: black iron, copper, both yellow and red gold, silver, brass, lead, and pewter.
With his father’s recent illness, he has been summoned back to Heart’s Home and named Castellan of the Castle and aide to the Lord. Rumours abound as to how his elder brother has taken this, having shortly afterwards departed on a quest for the Wing Knights legacy.
Supporting Characters -----------------------------
Name and House: Martyn Rivers Archetype: Trader (+4 bonus to Trade)
In his youth Martyn Rivers was a sellsword in the riverlands. He first entered service with House Corbray prior to the battle of Misty Moor. Later, he returned to permanent service after the Riverlands went up in flames. Lord Corwyn took him in first as a trade caravan guard, but in the years since he has reached the lofty heights of seneschal.
Name and House: Maester Dormund Archetype: Scholar (+2 lore searches, +1 treating others)
Maester Dormund has served House Corbray for three generations, serving first serving Lord Corwyn’s Father Corswain and now advising the young Master Tristan. He is one of the few that both knows of, and understands Master Tristan’s sign and short hand conversationally, the others being his mother, sister, and favourite brother.

“Well…..frak.”
Those were the only words Corporal James Diogenes could think of to describe his current situation. Behind him, he watched as his comrades turning tail and running away.
“Cowards. Cowards one and all.”
He spit into the dirt towards his former allies then turned towards the other part of his problem.
Xenos. A large army of Xenos, one that was far more disciplined and had far more bodies than command had assumed. He couldn’t remember what they were called or even remember the name of the planet he was on. He couldn’t care for either topic. He wasn’t surprised that the Intel he and his colleagues had been fed was wrong, it often was, but never to this degree. The enemy outnumbered the imperial army forces at least 7 to 1 if not far more. Their tactics were similar to those employed by the imperial army but their population meant they could do more tactical maneuvers, on more fronts, at the same time.
Why the imperial navy didn’t annihilate those armies from orbit, James would never understand. Given his current situation he most likely wouldn’t get a chance to ask. He checked the magazine on his auto-gun, the rifle being rather old by the standards of the current imperial army but its age held up as it punched through most body armor he came across.
“…..Frak.”
He cursed again as he inspected the magazine. Three, maybe four rounds left before he was out? He looked over his shoulder and sighed. The cowards took the ammo with them along with any other supplies they could carry, leaving an empty trench and a few rows of rusty flay-wire.
And James but he chose to stay behind.
A low chuckle escaped him as that thought came to mind. He shook his head as he took his spot in the trench. He wouldn’t win this fight, he was sure of it, but by Terra and in the Emperor’s name he would make them bleed. He would make them hurt.
The few rounds he had in his magazine were gone in no times at all. Four enemies laying in the dust and being trampled by their friends was proof of that. He smiled grimly as he watched his enemies march towards him. They had all bowed their heads slightly, seemingly expecting more shots. That got him laughing. A few bullets and a whole army was shaking before him. He wondered if this is what the primarchs, the emperors daughters, felt like whenever they were on crusade.
He tossed his empty rifle to the side. His smile grew as he held his knife, gripping it tightly as he watched the advancing line of xeno scum. The leather of his glove strained as his hidden knuckles grew white from how tightly he gripped his knife. He considered for a moment what he’d do when the enemy came into the trench. He knew he would fight and die, but he wondered how many of them he’d kill before they took him down.
He reached back behind him, grabbing the Krak grenade he had attached to his belt. He held it tightly and used the middle finger of his knife hand to pull the pin. He held close, holding the striker lever down to ensure it wouldn’t go off until he let go of it. Then he waited.
The world closed in. Darkness tinted the edge of his vision as he watched his enemy march ever closer. Nothing existed save for him and the enemy. He knew what this was. Adrenaline, anticipation, and fear all coming together to activate his fight-or-flight response. He whole body felt charged and he had to stop himself from jumping out of the trench and running…..where? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t guarantee his body wouldn’t turn tail and follow the rest of the imperial army back to the transports.
He adjusted his cap, scratched his bearded cheek and continued to watch. Watch and wait. That was all he could do now. His breathing grew heavy and erratic, his teeth barred, and a low growl escaped him.
The marching stopped.
He stared and waited.
A ploy? A chance to surrender maybe? Were they simply calling in artillery on his position?
That last thought stopped him. Artillery. Would they call artillery or an orbital strike or some other long distance attack on his position?
No. No, no, no, no they wouldn’t escape him that easy.
He scowled and climbed out of the trench, charging the Xenos line with a roar. The knife was raised over his head, holding it in an upside down fashion, as he sprinted towards his enemy. He refused to die to some cowardly artillery strike, he absolutely refused to be turned into a red smear on some backwater planet that no one would ever remember or care about.
The enemy….ran. They ran! He laughed as he chased after them. It didn’t make sense and he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, he was beyond caring.
“Get back here you throne damned bastards! GET THE FRAK BACK HERE!”
He slowed down long enough to toss the Krak grenade, laughing loudly when he saw it go off and take a handful of Xenos down.
The blood….was blood always so beautiful?
He continued running after the enemy before he stopped again. He stopped running cause something had stopped him. He didn’t understand, his legs were still under him, he was still alive, he could still fight!
“Kraking, bastard, filthy xenos, kill you all-“
“Shut up.”
He stopped talking, the voice snapping him out of…..whatever that was. He regained control and realized why he stopped running. Something had picked him up. He stared down at the ground only to realize how high he was above it.
“Hnngh, let go of me.”
He turned towards whatever was holding him only for his eyes to grow wide.
There stood….a woman. A very big woman with metallic dreadlocks poking out of her skull, her armor exposing skin and flesh in the fashion of a gladiator of old. He stared at him with a raised eyebrow and a silent growl as a twitch of pain or anger made her right eye close for a half second.
“Excuse me….heh….corporal.”
She said his rank as if it was an insult, even going as far as spitting on the ground after she said it. She held up by the back of his flak vest like he was little more than a lost puppy. She treated him like he wasn’t worth even talking to and that he was some stupid grunt who was simply in the way.
Space marines raced past both of them, ignoring them in favor of chasing after the retreating Xenos. They….were gonna steal his glory.
“Let me go damn you, the fights over there!”
The woman laughed loudly. Her head held back as her laughter echoed over the battlefield. A part of him thought her laughter was the most horrific and beautiful sound he ever heard, but it was overshadowed by his growing rage.
“You wouldn’t do-hnngghh-do anything to those alien freaks by yourself. Go home boy. Run with the rest of your fri-“
He swiped at her and smiled widely when he saw a small, paper thin cut open up on her cheek. A small trickle of blood dribbled down her skin as her smile disappeared. Her free hand came up and wiped at the cut. She studied the small swipe of blood on her finger. The cut was nothing, it wouldn’t even scar and she had lost far more blood then this in the blood pits. But something about this man taking a swipe at her, daring to cut her, daring to even consider killing or harming her…..
She smiled widely and put the man on her shoulder.
“You. I like you. You’re mine now little man.”
He tried to jump off but she held firm and turned away from the battle. Her sons would handle the fight. He roared on her shoulder and struggled against her grip, his rage growing as he did everything he could to get into the fight and kill. He wanted to, no needed to spill blood. He needed to kill, he needed to make them bleed.
But this goddess in bronze wouldn’t let him. She walked away and set him down in a space marine Rhino. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know why she took him, and he didn’t care. Instead he sighed and hung his head as he lit a iho stick.
“Don’t worry Corporal, there will be more glory to be had.”
He stared at her. His eyes were bloodshot, his body covered in dust and he felt exhausted.
“Hnngh…frakking….throne damn you….”
She smiled widely at that and pulled the trigger on her chainaxe. She then turned towards the driver.
“On second thought, hmm let’s go. I wanna see what you got little corporal.”
He smiled at that and stood up, popping his neck. He exhaustion was forgotten for the time being as the thought of killing those damned Xenos got his blood pumping and made him want to move.
“By the way.”
The giantess spoke as the rear hatch opened, revealing the same battlefield he had just left.
“My name is Atalanta.”
Please note: I’m not a writer and this whole story came to me while I was in a shower and from my lack of artistic skill. Sorry if it’s trash.

Most prices are negotiable

for those who like picture like me:2019, 2020, 2020pt2, 2021, dead_reck, 2022, 2022pt2, 2023 ,2024
my steam account
add me so we can trade.need to be friends for 30 days. Steam rep
why trade with me ? i have a lot of giftables i want to sell and im not willing to risk my rep for a single trade. also check my steam profile for recent comments , those are people i traded cache sets with ,they all went first you can check their profile for my gifted items .
i always give discounts for people who buy 2 or more.

newest 2023 cache

Item	Price
Snailfire (SnapFire)	20$
Brightfist (Marci)	20$
Dezun Viper (Dazzle)	5$
Primeval Abomination (Primal Beast)	5$
Astral Herald (Dawnbreaker)	5$
Spectral Shadow (Abaddon)	5$
Taur Rider (Alchemist)	5$
Crescent Huntress (Spectre)	5$
Tyrant of the Veil (Wraith King)	5$
Tomo'kan Footsoldier (Hoodwink)	5$
Darkwood Eulogy (Death Prophet)	2.5$
Sea Spirit (Kunkka)	5$
Triumph of the Imperatrix (Legion Commander)	5$
Beast of Thunder (Storm Spirit)	5$
Ancestral Heritage (Jakiro)	2.5$

Dead Reckoning Chest

item	price
Dead Heat (lina)	10$
Spectral Hunter (antimage)	10$
Dying Light (dawnbreaker)	10$
Expired Gun (sniper)	10$
Death Adder (medusa)	10$
Soul Serpent (viper)	10$

Diretide 2022 Collector's Cache

set name	hero	price
Shadowleaf Insurgent	hoodwink	15$
Chines of the Inquisitor	faceless void	12$
Spoils of the Shadowveil	Spectre	10$
Starlorn Adjudicator	dawnbreaker	10$
Trophies of the Hallowed Hunt	ursa	5$
Whippersnapper	snap fire	7.5$
Scarlet Subversion	riki	10$
Forgotten Station	terror blade	5$
Champion of the Fire Lotus	monkey king	5$
Hounds of Obsession	chen	5$
Crimson Dawn	pheonix	4$
Seadog's Stash	clockwerk	4$
Deathstitch Shaman	witch doctor	4$
Dirge Amplifier	undying	4$
Blue Horizons	marci	15$
Dark Behemoth	primal beast	30$

Diretide 2022 Collector's Cache 2

set name	hero	price
Freeboot Fortunes	ogre magi	4$
Darkbrew's Transgression	alchemist	5$
Acrimonies of Obsession	vengful spirit	7$
Withering Pain	clinkz	4$
Sacred Chamber Guardian	huskar	5$
Feasts of Forever	nightstalker	5$
The Wilding Tiger	brewmaster	5$
Dawn of a Darkness Foretold	doom	5$
War Rig Eradicators	techies	5$
Grand Suppressor	silencer	7$
Transcendent Path	oracle	5$
Cursed Cryptbreaker	pudge	7$
Bird of Prey	legion commander	10$
Darkfeather Factioneer	phantom assassin	10$
Grudges of the Gallows Tree	treant protector	12$
Brands of the Reaper	anti mage	15$
Sublime Equilibrium	void spirit	30$

Nemestice Collector's Cache 2021

set name	hero	price
Twilight Hex	dark willow	20$
Litany of the Damned	doom	25$
Astral Terminus	enigma	20$
Caerulean Star	enchantress	15$
Arcane Inverter	gyrocopter	25$
Creed of the Skullhound	lycan	30$
Desert Bloom	nature's prophet	25$
Eyriebound Imperator	skywrath mage	20$
Anthozoan Assault	tiny	35$
Defender of the Brumal Crest	winter wyvern	25$
Red Sands Marauder	shadow shaman	35$

2019 cache sets

set name	hero	price
Echoes of the Everblack	abaddon	20
The Arts of Mortal Deception	enigma	10
Adornments of the Jade Emissary	earth spirit	25
Poacher's Bane	tide	15
Appetites of the Lizard King	slark	20
Forbidden Medicine	dazzle	15
Curse of the Creeping Vine	undying	15
Priest of the Proudsilver Clan	chen	10
Soul of the Brightshroud	deathprophet	10
Pursuit of the Ember Demons	husker	15
Riddle of the Hierophant	oracle	10
Paean of the Ink Dragon	grimstroke	10
Allure of the Faeshade Flower	dark willow	20
Glimmer of the Sacred Hunt	drow ranger	30
Defender of Ruin	disruptor	15
gothic whisper	phantom assassin	69

2020 cache sets

set name	hero	price
Origin of the Dark Oath	night stalker	25
ravenous abyss	underlord	20
abocalypse unbound	ancient apparittion	10
beholden of the banished ones	warlock	20
fury of the righteous storm	distruptor	10
mindless slaughter	pudge	15
heartless hunt	bounty hunter	15
herald of the ember eye	grimstroke	10
fissured flight	jakiro	10
flashpoint proselyte	husker	15
signs of the allfather	nature's prophet	15
songs of starfall glen	enchantress	5
Glory of the Elderflame	lina	25
Lineage of the Stormlords	juggernaut	25
Silent Slayer	silencer	20
ancient inheritance	tiny	25
forsworn legacy	mars	35
Blaze of Oblivion	phoenix	10
Beast of the Crimson Ring	bristleback	15
Talons of the Endless Storm	chaos knight	15
Ire of the Ancient Gaoler	arc warden	30
Horror from the Deep	tide hunter	20
Evolution of the Infinite	enigma	10
Clearcut Cavalier	timber saw	10
The King Of Thieves	keeper of the light	10
Carousal of the Mystic Masquerade	rubick	10
Secrets of the Celestial	skywrath mage	10
Blacksail Cannoneer	sniper	10
Wrath of the Fallen	doom	10
Crown of Calaphas	shadowdemon	10
Master of the Searing Path	ember spirit	25
Steward of the Forbidden Chamber	templar assassin	20
Claszureme Incursion	faceless void	55

Aghanim's 2021 Collector's Cache

item name	hero	price
Silverwurm Sacrifice	dragon knight	30$
Scales Of The Shadow Walker	phantom lancer	10$
Perception of the First Light	dawnbreaker	10$
Apex Automated	clockwerk	10$
Test of the basilisk lord	Razor	15$
Secrets of the frost singularity	Ancient Apparition	5$
Perils of the red banks	Chen	5$
The chained scribe	Grimstroke	5$
Widow of the undermount gloom	Broodmother	10$
Forgotten fate	Mars	5$
March of the crackerjack mage	Rubick	10$
Stranger in the wandering isles	Drow Ranger	35$
Cosmic concoctioneers	Alchemist	10$
Days of the demons	Axe	25$
Blightfall	Abaddon	10$
Pyrexae polymorph perfected	ogre magi	15$
Wrath of the celestial sentinel	Chaos Knight	50$

old cache sets

set name	hero	price
Creeping Shadow	phantom assassin	around 90
Stormwrought Arbiter	sven	around 90
Submerged Hazard	tinker	around 90
Manta Marauder	bat rider	around 90

Weathers. buy 3 and get 4th for free

the lowest of them is the free one

weathers can be traded now!!

weather	price
Ash	15$ 9$
Aurora	2$
Harvest	3$ 1$
Moonbeam	5$ 2.5$
Pestilence	3$ 1$
Rain	9$ 5$
Sirocco	3$ 1$
Spring	2$
Snow	5$ 2.5$

PS: even if you don't see an item in my inventory feel free to add me and ask about whatever item you're looking for

Reservation Fee: $5 (USD)
Applied to Everyone. Everyone pays the same Reservation fee no matter the size of your order. Reservation fee is subtracted from the total cost of your Order. Reservation fee is non-refundable.

**Buy x3 Sets Pay for x2

FAQ (Frequent Asked Questions) can be found on my steam profile.
Accepting PayPal Payments. PayPal payments must be in the form of Friends & Family to prevent fees & chargebacks.
U = Unbundled Price
My Steam Profile
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Add me & Leave a message in the comment section. Will respond once I see it.

Treasure Nr. & Year	Rare & Retro Sets	Hero	U	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Summer 1. 2023	Snailfire	Snapfire		$25	4
Summer 1. 2023	Brightfist	Marci		$25	4
Diretide 1. 2022	Dark Behemoth	Primal Beast	20$	$40	6	1
Diretide 1. 2022	Blue Horizons	Marci		$15	7	1
Aghanim's. 2021	Wrath of the Celestial Sentinel	Chaos Knight		$50	1	1
Aghanim's. 2021	Pyrexae Polymorph Perfected	Ogre Magi		$25	1
Cache 1. 2019	Defender of Ruin	Disruptor		$18	3
Cache 2. 2019	Fowl Omen	Necrophos		$15	1
Cache 2. 2018	Cruelties of the Spiral Bore	Magnus		$80	1
Cache 2. 2018	The Rat King	Chen		$15	2

Summer Cache 1. 2023	Hero	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Spectral Shadow	Abaddon	$10	8
Taur Rider	Alchemist	$10	8
Astral Herald	Dawnbreaker	$10	7
Dezun Viper	Dazzle	$10	4
Darkwood Eulogy	Death Prophet	$10	7
Tomo'kan Footsoldier	Hoodwink	$10	7
Ancestral Heritage	Jakiro	$10	8
Sea Spirit	Kunkka	$10	7
Triumph of the Imperatrix	Legion Commander	$10	7
Primeval Abomination	Primal Beast	$10	8
Crescent Huntress	Spectre	$10	7	2
Beast of Thunder	Storm Spirit	$10	7
Tyrant of The Veil	Wraith King	$10	5

Diretide Cache 2. 2022	Hero	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Darkbrew's Transgression	Alchemist	$10	2
The Wilding Tiger	Brewmaster	12 €	Unbundled
Withering Pain	Clinkz	$10	1
Sacred Chamber Guardian	Huskar	$10	2
Freebot Fortunes	Ogre Magi	$10	2
Cursed Cryptbreaker	Pudge	$15	1
Grand Suppressor	Silencer	$15	Unbundled
War Rig Eradicators	Techie	$10	unbundled
Acrimonies of Obsession	Vengeful Spirit	$15	1

Diretide Cache 1. 2022	Hero	Price	Stock	Reserved
Hounds of Obsession	Chen	$10	10	1
Seadog's stash	Clockwerk	$10	11	1
Starlorn Adjudicator	Dawnbreaker	$15	3	1
Chines of the Inquisitor	Faceless Void	$10	6	2
Shadowleaf Insurgent	Hoodwink	$15	Unbundled	1
Champion of the Fire Lotus	Monkey King	$10	14	1
Crimson Dawn	Phoenix	$10	12	1
Scarlet Subversion	Riki	$10	10	2
Whippersnapper	Snapfire	$10	7	1
Spoils of the shadow veil	Spectre	$10	9	3
Forgotten Station	Terrorblade	$10	10	1
Dirge Amplifier	Undying	$10	10	1
Trophies of the Hallowed Hunt	Ursa	$10	8	1
Deathstitch Shaman	Witch Doctor	$10	12	1

Aghanim's Cache 2021	Hero	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Blightfall	Abaddon	$10	3
Secrets of the Frost Singularity	Ancient Apparition	$10	2
Perils of the Red Banks	Chen	$10	4
Perception of the First Light	Dawnbreaker	$25	1
The Chained Scribe	Grimstroke	$10	2
Forgotten Fate	Mars	15 €	Unbundled
Test of the Basilisk Lord	Razor	15 €	Unbundled
March of the Crackerjack Mage	Rubick	$10	1

Cache 2. 2019	Hero	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Fury of the Bloodforge	BloodSeeker	$10	4
Automaton Antiquity	BroodMother	$10	3
Directive of the Sunbound	Clockwerk	$10	1
Sight of the Kha-Ren Faithful	Drow Ranger	$15	3	1
Souls Tyrant	Shadow Fiend	$25	2
Verdant Predator	Venomancer	$10	1
Tribal Pathways⠀	Warlock	$15	1

U = Unbundled Price

Cache 1. 2019	Hero	Euro Price	Stock	Reserved
Echoes of the Everblack	Abaddon		0
Priest of the Proudsilver Clan	Chen	$15	1
Forbidden Medicine	Dazzle	$15	1
Soul of the Brightshroud	Death Prophet	$15	1
Scorched Amber	Dragon Knight	$15	1
Glimmer of Sacred Hunt	Drow Ranger	$25	1	1
The Arts of Mortal Deception	Enigma	$15	2
Pursuit of the Ember Demons	Huskar	$20	1
Riddle of the Hierophant	Oracle	$15	1
Poacher's Bane	Tidehunter	$15	1
Curse of the Creeping Vine	Undying	$15	1

Genuine Weather Effect can be traded without delay.

Genuine Weather	USD Price
Ash
Rain
Snow
Moonbeam
Spring
Aurora
Harvest
Pestilence
Sirocco
Full Set	$28

PayPal payments must be in the form of Friends & Family to prevent fees & chargebacks.
**Offer applied to sets that costs 10$ each or less, The cheapest set is for free.
***(Discounts Do Not apply to Weather Effects)***

During the golden era of the early '00s, I landed what might have been the best high school job at Blockbuster. My official title read "Rewinder", which was as glamorous as it sounds, but came with its fair share of other cinema-centric chores.
Each day started with a scavenger hunt through the return drop box. My mission? To find and rescue VHS tapes that customers returned unrewound. Technically, we were supposed to charge a $2 rewinding fee for these misdemeanors, but let’s be honest, most of us were too chill to bother.
Once the tapes were checked in and the good citizens (those who rewound their tapes) had their videos shelved back for rental, I'd retreat to my fortress: the Rewinder Room. This was a windowless 8'x10' bunker, where the walls were armored with VHS rewinders. Here I would spend the majority of my shift, hiding out and living the life.
But that's not all. Between the rewinding sessions, I played the role of shelf organizer, snack bar operator, and occasionally, the reluctant customer advisor (only when I couldn’t convincingly blend into the background). Oh, and let’s not forget the critical task of checking video cases for proper tape returns and making sure the snack aisle was stocked with the freshest of the "expired" candy selection - okay they weren't always expired. If they were close to expiration, they somehow magically found their way into the rewinder room.. odd...
My throne? A metal folding chair from which I ruled over my 33" CRT kingdom, indulging in movie marathons that would make a film buff weep. Yeah, it was an era of watching films, munching on stale candy, and mastering the art of minimal customer interaction, and possibly partaking in some "movie-enhancing herbal therapy" - I can neither confirm nor deny.
A note for all you youngsters: Back in the day, frequently rewinding on a regular VCR was a quick way to wear out both the VCR heads and the VHS tapes themselves. That's why we had these nifty little gadgets called rewinders at Blockbuster. These devices were dedicated solely to rewinding tapes, and they did so much faster than your average VCR could. So next time you're chatting with your parents, ask them about these—chances are they'll remember these unsung heroes of the VHS era.
Any questions about working at the most amazing job every, feel free to ask!

-Jack
Every kid growing up in Gympie in the early 90- 2000s knew about the Love Tunnel.
The love tunnel was located over the hill from the skatepark on the Riverbank. It was a massive storm water drain filled with spray paint and lore unbound throughout the generations; the glowing dick, whose name is the furthest in, the people who live inside, the bull shark that lived under the bridge just outside, all that fun stuff.
It collapsed in the late 2000’s in a flood and was eventually rebuilt, but it was all fancy, modern, safe and not the same. Back in the day it had decades of graffiti, crumbling cement, jagged metal pole framing bent and jutting out from the sides. You know, real character.
I remember when I was just a kid at the skatepark and I spotted a bunch of other kids at the metal grating of a drain. I joined them and gazed down a few metres to some older teenagers, they had trekked through this “love tunnel” under the massive hill all this way. Badass I thought. LEGENDARY.
I talked about it at school, about this mysterious “love tunnel”. It was in view from the road when I crossed the bridge everyday on my daily commutes from the backseat of mums car.
I would gaze down at the weir and see the top of the love tunnel, sliightly hidden from view by a hill. It fascinated me.
I learned all these mysterious tales; this person slept with this person there, someone took a dump at the entrance and some other girl stood in it and now she had a nickname, someone found needles, another found a homeless woman and she screamed at them. I was pumped for the next weekend. I was going to go see it for myself.
I saw too much.
Early Saturday morning I was riding my push bike through town and toward destination adventure! I started out at the skatepark, met up with a few of the regulars, a mix of 5-19y/o everyone on the half pipes and ramps had a code of comrady that I've never found in a public place anywhere else and you always had someone to hang with.
My usual crew slowly arrived through the morning, a bunch of other 10/11 year old misfits like myself and we headed on our first place on our journey, Hungry Jacks. Now we never technically stole, we found a loophole…
One or two would order a stunner meal, then we'd take privilege of the free refills and fill up the empty plastic 4L juice jugs that we all had prepped in our backpacks. Coke and red Fanta for days.
So we got our supplies and headed behind HJ, past the volleyball courts and headed down a bush track down to the river.
We walked along the banks to loop back down to where the bridge was, we passed a few teenagers fishing and a couple other groups of kids swinging from rope swings into the water or huddled in groups smoking things they shouldn't.
We eventually arrived at the weir and the stormwater drain that I had been so intrigued by. The Love Tunnel.
Climbing up the hill and seeing it up close when you were just a tiny human. It was like staring into the dark abyss of hell.
There was a small stream of water flowing out of the big grey cylinder and it was covered in multicolored quotes and crude pictures that was very eye opening at the time.
Our voices echoed as one by one we climbed up the grassy, eroding clay edging that was the makeshift path into the mouth that probably changed each time it rained. Each of us had pulled out clumps of grass that we thought were handholds. If you fell, you fell down an embankment of slippery jagged rocks poking out from the fast flowing river.
So were inside and began to walk a couple of metres in then around us the light abruptly disappeared into complete darkness. And I remember the way the sounds traveled you could feel it through your chest it was mesmerizing.
I remember bravely stepping into the darkness and taking five or six steps in. That thick darkness was something else, I ran myself back to that entrance and light, heart pounding from the adrenaline.
This turned into a game of who could go in the furthest. This stopped when one of the boys screamed out from the darkness in pain.
He was back in the light teary eyed a few moments later wet on one side and feigning a laugh. He'd slipped down and cut open his knee, it was hilarious. We teased him saying he was going to get gangrene and leprosy and a myriad of other ailments we had no idea actually was.
We decided to bail, we forgot torches, we didn't plan that part out too well, and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon being little menaces.
We met the next day with a game plan, we had an array of various sized torches, from small ones that didn't do anything, one of those giant rectangle ones that was our main light source, a couple of handheld ones, one which flickered and the other stopped working before we even got into the tunnel.
We got in safely and tested out our torches and began walking into the unknown. It was pretty much the same as before, but there were strange things, old makeshift bongs, shopping bags, random shoes, a shopping trolley, a mattress that was all moldy and rotted. I still to this day do not understand how people managed to get that shit in there.
We passed a section where someone had thrown a can of red paint all over the walls, the amount of those ‘S’ symbols was more terrifying.
We saw light up ahead, we were passing our first grate. It was kind of daunting looking up towards it. Even getting on each other's shoulders we couldn't reach. There was an array of broken beer bottles and glass was everywhere, under the grate was a dead snake amongst some debris.
We had a debate whether to go further, we ended up going on at least until the next grate, we came to a fork, one seemed like a smaller offshoot so we stuck to the bigger side.
There were more offshoots and we came to a part where the big pipes split off into three under another grate. We gazed up hoping to get an identifier of our location, but all we could see was blue. We called out to see if we could get anyone's attention.
“Cooooweeee” we shouted in unison, the sound echoing in all directions.
We were laughing and having a grand time until something shouted back, something that still shakes me to my core to this day.
Some yobbo crackhead chick in her fifties with this ratty pink tank top that was all stretched half showing her saggy titties. “What the fuck you think you little cunts doing down here.” This chick screeched at us through her few teeth or something along the lines of that. She just exploded at us with a barrage of threats.
We were shocked silenced moving together to make one mass.
One of the boys screamed when a skinny guy emerged from the darkness. He was covered in tattoos with scraggly hair and a beard, he was all crazy eyed and pantless.
Someone yelled out to run and it was all the motivation we needed.
We could hear them screaming and the guy ran after us, we heard glass shattering behind us, they must have thrown a bottle. We were legging it.
We got split up in our running, I fell down, tripping over some rubbish, one mate stayed back to help me, this left us without a torch. We came across the same kid who slipped over yesterday, he had slipped down again cutting open his other knee. He wore those with badges of honor at school, but he was blubbering like a baby at this point.
He had the flickering torch and it disoriented us more than helped, as it turned on and off every time he took a step. I thought we were lost but we found the other grate, then eventually the entrance.
The others were already climbed down, we were soon by their side panting in the grass and wiping away our tears so the others couldn't see.
We ran back over to the skatepark and immediately told every kid we saw.
That was the wildest shit we had ever experienced. Sure we’d seen crazy up on the street but to have it jump out at you from the shadows in a storm water drain was next level.
By that night one of the other boys had spilled to his parents about our escapades and a couple of other mums got phone calls, three got in trouble, two of us didn't, including me.
I never stepped foot back in that tunnel, I swam at the weir more times than I could count afterwards though and never encountered anyone else too sketchy.
I think only a year or two later I saw on the news people dying in storm water drains somewhere else in Aus, we never realized how dangerous they could be back then. Lol.
Every party or get together afterwards it was a crowd favorite to bring up. It was a good conversation starter and joined the tales amongst my friends of the weird shit that happens in ‘Helltown’.
Growing up and looking back they were probably just homeless drug addicts freaked out from a bunch of children's voices yelling out coooweee from the underground where they thought they were alone. That would have scared the shit outta me if I was them.
Good times.
.VJ
Tl:Dr kids go into storm water drain and find creepy couple who scream at them.

To live in the Undead Burg is a daily test of one’s wit and their will. The brutish and dull fall to the cunning, and the weak intellectual tears their own mind asunder. For those who escape the Asylum, it is sometimes enough to make one consider voyaging back to their cell.
After all, only a few are Chosen.
In the lower levels of the Undead Burg, a cloak of rat skin fluttered behind a walking corpse as they hurriedly turned the corner of a short length of stone stairs, slamming the shield of a hollow soldier against the ground just as the claws and fangs of the first hound rose to meet it. In truth he lacked the strength to properly defend himself with the thing, to raise it with only one arm and withstand a blow with the same, but it didn’t matter here. The lower corner of the shield lay braced against the bottommost of a length of stone steps. This, with his shoulder pressed against the shield’s top, made progress against him nearly impossible for a foe so light as this.
If idiocy was to lose one’s common sense, then it couldn’t account for the stupidity of an undead hound. The corpse raised a spear over the shield and swung it downward in a pathetic arc, the wood slapping against the metal with hardly a noise to report. Seeing the motion, the dog leapt sideways out of some horribly trained reflex, and in this manner crashed into large pile of eternally burning corpses. It yelped as the heat caught it, spasmed as it searched for purchase amidst the mass of charred bones and melted flesh, and promptly died. The commotion brought with it the sound of distant footsteps, and soon another beast had run headlong into the shield. This one took two similar “attacks” of the spear to repeat its fellow’s mistake, and the one after it four.
To think he had once been terrified of these things, and discovered his tactic in panic.
Beside the steps was a well, and (after a moment to ensure no further dogs were coming), it was this against which the corpse laid his heavy shield. The next test between him and his goal would require agility, something ill-afforded with such heavy hardware. For this, he turned his attention to the well’s crank, and set thereafter to turning it. From the depths was raised a target shield tied in place of a bucket, and upon it a collection of bones, a severed hand, a ring, and a candlestick. The corpse laid the miscellaneous treasures aside, untying the shield and equipping it to his left arm.
The first two thieves were marked by buckets… or rather, the buckets were set in place to tell the thieves which doors were to be hid behind. As travelers came and went, the buckets would roll down the hill as they were knocked aside or blown by the wind or carried around by the dogs, and thus the thieves’ stations would move. When it was determined one had rolled too far down the decline of the alleyway, an annoyed thief would inevitably carry it to a more desired station, pretend it had always been there, and hide themselves behind the newly marked door. It was possible some band of thieves set this tradition in place long ago and retained the habit after they’d eventually gone hollow, but proving this thought today would be nearly beyond impossible. The reasoning didn’t matter to the corpse, of course, but the effect he used to his advantage.
The tops of the doors he adorned with knives from the Lady of Moss- blades up, such that the forceful opening of the door would spin the knives just right to sink their poisonous bile into the victims below. What additional wastes and acids the corpse had applied need not be mentioned by name, only that they shared their patron creature with the leather cloak on his back. With his work done, he now walked the side of the alley as any clueless traveler would have, and awaited the springing of the trap.
As always, the third and lowermost thief signaled the attack by kicking open their door. The two now behind the corpse followed, and shortly thereafter issued their raspy exhales of pain amidst the clatter of falling steel. The corpse charged. The leader hurriedly reached for their throwing knives but was swiftly force-fed the edge of the corpse’s shield, thusly to be brought to the ground. Here was the corpse’s blade drawn, its cracked and jagged tip turned down towards its latest prey.
When skinning rats, it is important that one carries a sharp blade. This both to pierce the thick hide, and to avoid unnecessary damage to the intestines, stomach, and other usable bits lying beneath. Replacing the rat with a hollow, the corpse preferred the tip of a broken straight sword to the edge of his usual dagger. The motions made indeed bore some crude similarity to his work when harvesting leather, but the abandon of care became only more evident with each forceful cut and flailingly resisted gouge. In the end, what remained could hardly be discerned from a spot of muck on the road, a hollow-faced madman above it.
Further down, beyond a second set of stone steps, was another favorite spot of ambush for the thieves. The mutts at the end of the alley had long since devoured whatever scraps had been used to position them, and so readily charged forth at the beckoning call of the corpse. They found at his feet the now separated legs of the corpse’s most recent kill, adorned in many fresh gouges and oozing with a pungent liquid. The source of this meal mattered not to them, and so they eagerly set to work engorging themselves on the new flesh. So single-minded were they, intent on ridding themselves of the insatiable undead hunger that plagued them, that neither one slowed as a white foam began to pour from their mouths. Their stomachs first bulged, then split apart and spilt what little they had for content as the acid worked its way through. Their legs gave way from beneath them, first the hind, then the front, and yet still they desperately swallowed more of the decaying flesh and embedded stomach-skin pouches that rapidly digested them in return. When at last the pair had at last lost such strength as to no longer reach the meals inches away from their first gasping, then whining maws, the corpse delivered their mercy. A swift kick, and what little remained of their necks gave freedom to their lifeless skulls. The thieves, meanwhile, bore no challenge the corpse had not already faced. Knives over the first few doors, the greeting of jaw and shield, the pillaging of another victim. Nothing unusual, and nothing of note.
With the capra demon gone, some “chosen” adventurer having long since vanquished it from realm, little now stood between the corpse and… her… save only one thing. The corpse took the last flight of stairs three at a time, ricocheting off the wall on the outside of its only turn and bounding towards his target.
There she was, out in the open as always. The corpse sprinted down the stairs and, after passing a blind corner, set his left foot forward and crouched to halt his considerable momentum. The ambusher behind him was easily parried as he brought his shield up and behind him, cracking something in their forearm or perhaps their wrist. Not bothering to waste time, the corpse’s broken blade was brought upwards through the ambusher’s jaw until it snapped the bit bone between their eyes. This done, the corpse wrenched his weapon up and sideways with a hollow “pop” as the neck gave leave of its skull. The body collapsed to the side, its head twisting unnaturally upwards and backwards as it freed itself of the blade. The corpse, unbothered, bore no interest in holding either aloft. Now he turned, inspected the last of the thieves, and after a moment returned his blade to its holder.
“You are Patient.”
This first time he’d uttered the phrase, the last word was merely an attribute. ‘Twas a description of the one hollow that could be shot with any arrow, afflicted with any pain, and would yet remain loyally in her position. To be fair, it wasn’t for great gift a choice, as the position of “live bait” was reserved only for whichever of the thieves had been deemed least desirable by the rest. What caused this, and whatever penalties lay for abandoning of the post, were matters the corpse could only assume. The important part was that it was her, the thief who had become “Patient” by name. At their first encounter the corpse had considered dispatching her like the rest, but had hesitated in piercing her skin. He still bore the scar about his neck that she had given him for his idleness, and she still wore the rat skin “grieves” he’d forcefully tied to her for a marker. As time passed, the two gradually traded more scars and more black fur hide between them- the corpse receiving the former, Patient gaining the latter. He had stripped her and tied a pelt about her chest which lay now beneath her leather armor, he’d fashioned a double-thick leather stock to protect her neck, and though he tied gloves to her at a point she’d taken great effort in cutting them off. All this he had done across many visits, through much pain, and at expense of his best materials. Todays gift had by far been the hardest to craft- a thrice layered leather helm affixed on one side with a jawbone to replace what he’d broken so long ago.
His approach was slow, and well-rehearsed. At about ten paces, Patient’s patience finally broke as she ran for him. Today she chose to hesitate upon reaching him, though he'd learned this was by chance of random choice than any form of compassion. The corpse waited for the attack, not daring to kick another outcast as he had once been in life. She tried first her more viscous pattern, a pair of vigorous strikes that slid across the corpse’s target shield rather than bouncing away. She completed the maneuver and immediately prepared for a more powerful, slamming attack, granting the corpse the opportunity he had been seeking.
As she brought her blade down, the corpse deftly batted her strong hand away and gripped her shield with his open hand. Having no further need for his own shield, he cast it now away and spun the patient thief ‘round. She made as if to leap upward and over the corpse, but the maneuver was one he’d long since learned to counter. He stepped back, spinning himself so as to bring her sideways and around and down into a prone position with his right elbow along her back and his left hand pinning her knife arm down.
His next task, before gifts could be given, was to ensure he received no further scars in return. Placing his knee at her back to free one of his hands, he drew from beneath his cloak a coil of red twine fashioned from the same rats he’d skinned for his gift… some of the same, at least. With great effort, the twine was managed around the thief until she could no longer terribly well resist, and her hood was pulled back from her head.
Seeing the sunken red skin, the glowing eyes, the bare teeth, it reminded the corpse of life in the Pit of Outcasts. It was there he’d met the kindest of the living, the most desperate of the poor, and occasionally even a soul or two willing to speak or come close to him. ‘Twas a place for the diseased, the undead, and those criminals deemed too vile to disgrace the hangman’s noose with their neck. It was there he’d learned to knit and to sew, skills gifted to him from an undead woman not terribly discernable from the one before him now. The main difference, at least for now, was the slack jaw broken in uncountable pieces during their first encounter.
Casting the memories aside, the corpse set to his work. The leather about the thief’s neck stilled her head a little, but precisely cutting the skin beneath her jaw to remove the old bone was still a difficult task. The end result was unsightly, and it involved more than a few excessive cuts from the patient’s constant struggling, but it was enough to work with. Removing the old bone took a great deal of time thanks to the many fragments hidden in odd bits and pockets of flesh, but sliding the new one into place and wrapping it in the old muscle proved as easily said as done. The most tiring part was retying the cuts back closed, as the thief regained and continually demonstrated a greater ability to bite and snap as the corpse made more and more progress. The last of these gaps closed, the corpse finally wrapped the rest of the leather helmet about the thief’s skull and tied the loose end to the other side of her new jaw with more twine. It wasn’t his best work, but it was the best he’d done on something still kicking around.
Patient’s hood was returned to its proper position, and the corpse took hold of a length of twine connected to a slipknot in the middle of her back. Midway up the last stretch of stairs he’d come down, the twine was pulled and the knot it held gave way, restoring the thief her freedom. Knowing better than to stick around, the corpse fled to the top of the stairs, standing on the bridge overlooking her station just beyond where she would pursue. He watched as she freed herself of the last of the twine, as she looked to him, and as she eventually returned to her post. He said then the same thing he always said to her, though still he knew not if she recognized it.
“I am Aldin Paltry, the Leper of Hangknell. I will return again.”
He watched a moment more, but was paid not a glance in return. Back through the alley he went, bound for the dragon’s bridge.

After sixty-seven sessions of Curse of Strahd (read all about it here), it was time for a change. So into the wild we went...
My group is nearing the end of Hither, and along the way I've written summaries of each session ("What Just Happened?"), along with interesting/funny quotes from PCs/NPCs ("Certain Things Were Said"), and a list of new characters introduced that session ("Dramatis Personae").
My intention is to write the summaries for each of the five parts of the campaign in a different format. For the Witchlight Carnival, each summary was presented in verse (my own, no machine learning shortcuts!), using the metre and rhyming structure of various Lewis Carrol poems.
I'd like to share my summaries/poems with you all here, for posterity, and in the hope you'll find them entertaining.
For reference, the players are:

• Holafina (a harengon paladin who has lost three inches of height)
• Skerrek (a kobold druid who has lost the ability to lie)
• Arix (an owlin monk who has lost all sense of direction and is always hungry)
• Jexim (a brash fairy warlock who has lost his diary)
• Sylenos (a beatnik/slacker satyr rogue employed by the Carnival)

NOTE: Lewis Carroll was known to hide secret messages in his poems. I've done the same, revealing the campaign's big twist in one of the poems below. None of my players have picked up on it.

Part I: Welcome to the Witchlight

What Just Happened? (in the style of Jabberwocky)
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates, And those with tickets did arrive, Seeking things they had misplaced.
One harengon of curious size, A kobold with a slithy gait, An owlet who possessed two eyes As wide as Annam’s dinner plates.
Yet are we three or are we four? Let’s add vibrations rarefied: A Witchlight hand here to ensure That every guest is Satyrs-fied!
Enter now and taste the sounds, Feel these colours, smell those sights! Kaleidoscopic fun abounds This synaesthesiac’s delight!
Yet where’s the drama? Where’s the tension? Certainly we’ve had a switch (At least in here there is no mention Of that cad von Zarovich).
Instead let’s race a giant snail, Eat candied mushrooms by the pound, Or listen to a gnome assail The tightness of your mother’s gown.
Yet hark! A misadventure glum! Those not heroes please give berth! The best laid plans of love undone By Tasha’s wild unruly mirth
These mirrored halls! This desperate task, To find a luckless paramour A sweet-toothed lass with porcine mask That you could swear you’ve seen before…
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates And those with tickets did arrive, Now guided by the wiles of fate.
Dramatis Personae
Arix Specklefoot, a sweet-toothed owlin Holafina, a curiously short harengon Skerrek Tirael, a slithy kobold Sylenos, a cosmic satyr Nicholas Midnight, elderly goblin ticketmaster at the Witchlight Carnival Candlefoot, a mime and not by choice Rubin Sugarwood, a lovesick halfling Ween Sundapple, his laugh-sick paramour Glorange Turple, a poetry gnome
Certain Things Were Said
“I am worried about your ability to sense vibrations that I cannot.” - Skerrek Tirael
“Tymore, goddess of good fortune! Look well upon Shellymoo this day!” - Holafina
“Hate to say it, man, but that gnome really insulted your mother.” - Sylenos
“Snacks?” - Arix Specklefoot

Part II: Lost and Found

What Just Happened? (In the style of The Walrus and the Carpenter )
"The time has come," the Satyr said, "To talk of many things: Of poems—and props—and Jeremy Plum— Of crowns and pixie kings— And why things here keep getting lost— And what this pig-girl means."
"But wait a bit," the Owlin cried, "Before our minds do meet, For some of us are pretty spooked, And I would like a treat!" "No hurry!" said the Satyr, And kicked up cloven feet.
The Owlin and the Kobold Were walking close at hand, They smiled like anything to see The gates of Pixie Land. "If we could only stay a while,” They said, "it would be grand!"
The Satyr sighed so sulkily, Because he thought that Plum Had got no business to be there When all was said and done. (“It's rude of him," the Kobold said, "To try and spoil our fun!")
"Oi, Satyr," said the pixie king, "You've had a pleasant run! Should you be getting back to work?” But answer came there none And this was scarcely odd, because He had real beef with Plum.
Now Arix made a hamster friend Who offered up some clues. The others tried the riding-pug: A pleasant thing to do! (“The pug is fine," the Rabbit said, "But he’s no Shellymoo.”)
"How nice of you to come!” said Plum, "You all are oh-so kind!" Puddlemud said nothing as His teeth began to grind. The Owlin and the Kobold cheered: “That was our FAVORITE ride!”
“A wooden crown," fair Jexim said, Is what we need to come Our way along with golden paint For some un-princely sum.” The others stared, confused, and said: “Now where did YOU come from?”
‘Twas then the party dared approach The famous Mystery Mine Where psychedelic spectacles Broke the Satyr’s mind. (“I really wish,” Zephixo sighed, “You wouldn’t ride while high”).
Next Dirla pulled all kind of things Out of his wagon/portal: Bottles, bunnies, candlesticks, A shining blade of vorpal (Incidentally, there’s a word That kind of rhymes with purple).
“If you put your mind to it And searched for long enough, Do you suppose," the party said, "That you could find our stuff?" "I doubt it," said dear Dirlagraun, And gave a bitter huff.
Then he gave the Harengon The greatest gift by far: A copy of “Gnome On The Run” And bid them au revoir (Morgie would have laughed at that While trying to type slash “R”).
“I do believe,” the Satyr said, “That something is not right, And think we ought to pay a call To Messers Witch and Light.” “I think we ought,” the Owlin said “To first stop for a bite.”
But in their way old Thaco stood, A clown grown grim and surly: “Rabbit! Owlin! Pixie! Skink! You aren’t allowed to be-“ The Fairy interrupted him: “Wait, WHAT did you call me?”
Poor Thaco cried: “Things move too fast! And have since my debut In R-1: To the Aid of Falx From Nineteen Eighty Two! And if you’d seen what I have seen Then you’d smoke bubbles, too!”
Finally he stepped aside, At last the way was clear. The Satyr ambled stealthily With open eyes and ears And pressed them to a wagon large To see what he could hear.
"The time has come," Witch and Light said, "To talk of things galore Of prizes—plans—and kenku pests— and ever so much more— But first we’d better ask inside Those spying at our door!”
Dramatis Personae
Jexim, a puzzled, puzzling fairy Jeremy Plum, operator of the Pixie Kingdom and bestower of silly names Biscuit, a talkative hamster Pinecone, a riding-pug Zephixo, dwarven inventor and mastermind behind the Mystery Mine Ernest Wilde, middle-aged calliope master currently inhabiting the body of his pet monkey Marigold, his button-collecting goblin assistant Dirlagraun, a kindly but inefficient displacer beast, minder of lost children and property Thaco, a bubble-smoking clown who is long past his prime
Certain Things Were Said
"Worried I was, with talk of missing supper." - Arix Specklefoot
"Could you not just purchase a new pair?" - Skerrek Tirael "Not like this, man." - Sylenos
"If you'd see the things I've seen, you'd smoke a bubble pipe, too." - Thaco
"Is this it?" - Dirlagraun "NO." - Everyone

Part III: On the Trail of the Kenku

What Just Happened? (In the style of The Hunting of the Snark)
"Where the heck is our stuff? We just want to know This Harengon ain't getting bigger, Arix has no idea of where to go And lies send poor Skerrek a-quiver!"
"Would you get back to work?" Mister Light cried, Twirling his cane with a smile, "Otherwise find where this kenku pest hides; She's cramping this carnival's style!"
"Well, that was a bust," said our heroes, conferring, "Anyone got a suggestion? If we need to pull strings to get back our things Then there are some folk we should question."
"Time's an illusion, free will a delusion!" Sylenos' mentor decreed, "Get a contusion battling occlusions, Or relax and have some of this…wait, what was I saying?"
Sylenos proclaimed: "A genius flawed!" "A man/dragon ahead of his time." Skerrek looked at his claws; Holafina at paws, And the other two just rolled their eyes
"A centuar I'm not! I just made a bad trade The "Cloppinton's" just serendipitous, Now lend me your aid and you'll maybe persuade These horsies to drop some significance."
Then they took to the skies on a dragonfly ride (Holafina and Skerrek abreast), When you're this high there's just nowhere to hide (And to which Sylenos attests)
Now Skerrek honed on a runaway gnome Who was fleeing the carnage with glee, Holafina struck home and that's it for this poem For the gnome was the kenku, you see.
Dramatis Personae
Mister Witch, a matter-of-fact elf, devoid of pretense Mister Light, a flamboyant elf, luminous and coy Burly, a philosophical, pumpkin-helmeted bugbear Mandragon, a seeker of truth (and not much else) Diana Cloppington, a centaur who is apparently not, operator of the Carousel Northwind, a very forthcoming treant, operator of the Dragonfly Rides
Certain Things Were Said
"There’s something weird going on. For some reason everyone thinks I don’t do anything around the carnival." - Sylenos
"It's true, Miss Cloppinton! We've ALL lost things." - Arix Specklefoot
"Wait, when did we have biscuits?" - Jexim

Part IV: Through the Looking Glass

What Just Happened? (In the style of A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky)
Now hear the Kenku’s strange reply (As Arix struggles to apply Triage to these pixie guys)
Asking questions, getting nought Set her on a different course: High sabotage without remorse!
And what has got her so irate Is what’s she trying to intimate: Zybilna has been quiet of late!
Ignore the rest, and let’s take flight To confront dear Witch and Light (Surprisingly, they’re quite contrite)
To keep the carnival in motion A tapestry of lies was woven: A deal with the Hourglass Coven!
Who take from those who can’t afford Entrance through the Witchlight’s doors Miscellanea adored
So THAT’s who taken all your junk! Time to find these Hourglass punks! Which way to this Feywild dump?
But first we’ll make a brief aside So Candlefoot can vocalise His mermaid love (now legalised)
Now the pair can tie the knot And while we’re passing time why not Ride the fabled Bubble Pot?
Yet ere you all are translocated (Everybody’s breath now bated) Arix must be coronated!
The time of truth has come at last Hesitation as you pass Though the hallowed looking glass
Are you afraid to lose your minds? What lies ahead? What lies behind? What do you expect to find?
Will Skerrek ever fabricate? Or Holafina emulate A bunny’s median height and weight?
Shall Jexim’s memoirs find acclaim? Can Monty locate Bobbitt Fane? (…hang on, that’s a different game)
Does Arix ever find the door? And will Sylenos flee the cause To study unemployment law?
Dramatis Personae
Kettlesteam, a mischievous patron of Zybilna Paleesha, a mellifluous mermaid, now reunited with Candlefoot
Certain Things Were Said
“Sylenos, perhaps in eight years you can come back and find your lost employment.” - Skerrek
“Ask me where the exit is.” - Arix Specklefoot “Where is the exit?” - Mister Light “I don’t know.” - Arix